I was going to

8 Sep

I was going to write a post about how pissed off I was.

I was going to write a post about how I’d worked hard to make a dinner that everyone would like but that the kids hardly touched.

I was going to write about how good the BBQ boneless spare ribs tasted, and about how I’d made sure that the carrots were fairly dead in the pan and smothered with butter and a touch of salt.

I was going to write about how Babygirl cried when she tried the carrots and spit them into a napkin, and about how Toad spit out his BBQ boneless spare ribs into his own napkin.

I was going to write about how Babygirl almost fell out of her chair…again…even though I’ve asked her 1,745 times to sit her butt down in the chair during supper.

I was going to write about how I got thoroughly upset and, after dinner was ended, began cleaning up saying the entire time that I was “never going to cook again because no one eats it.”

I was going to write about how I was washing down the table muttering about how “I try to make a nice supper that we can all eat together and no one cares.”

I was going to write about how I was more pissed at Scott than anyone else because he didn’t sit the kids down and talk to them, asking them to apologize to me for making dinner a not-very-pleasant occasion so often.

I was going to write about how he believed that I was expecting too much from our children and about how they’re “just 7 and 4 and won’t appreciate their mother for a long time”.

But I’m not going to write about that.

After I finished my much overdue work, Scott and Toad got into it over bed – Toad wanted a drink and Scott said he’d had enough chances to drink the milk he had and that he only wanted it now to get his own way. He called Toad a bad name – swore at him, actually, which is something he’s never done before. I heard Toad crying and screaming, trying to get his point across to his father, who, of course, wasn’t listening and, to quote, “don’t care”.

I approached Scott and told him, in between his sputtering, that he needed to apologize to Toad for calling him a swear word. Reluctantly, he agreed to and went in to apologize, with is classic “but” after the apology.

I then went and got a cup from the cupboard. I filled it with milk. I snuck into Toad’s bedroom and gave it to him. After he drank it I kissed him on the forehead and went back into the kitchen to hide the evidence.

They may irritate me and drive me insane sometimes but they’re still my children and I love them more than anything else in the world.


One Response to “I was going to”

  1. Mistress September 9, 2008 at 2:39 am #


    as a mother I think we all have days like this.

    My kids are 3 and 20 months and even though I know there is more to come, and on my worst days I would do it all over again!!!

    At the end of the day we can say we tried!!!

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