I just want to eat my f*cking lunch!!
Seriously, there many annoying things about having kids (yes, some good points too for you pearl clutchers) but one of the stand out winners is the battle just to eat your own fucking lunch.
Why, WHY is it, that the second you sit down with something to eat evvvvryone is suddenly hungry AND they’ve transformed from a beige food only diner turned into bloody Matt Preston??
Today I asked the kids if they wanted some lunch. Two didn’t, one did. So I made my one customer exactly what she wanted to eat (which we had bought especially) and began to make lunch for hubby and I. Well, I got as far as getting a couple of tomatoes out of the fridge when my son decided he DID want something to eat after all. Awesome. So I’d just presented that to him, when in wondered subject number three with “can I have a Nutella sandwich”? Yes she bloody could I said as its quick and easy and I got back to what I came in here - for MAKING MY OWN EFFING LUNCH!
With kids all now sitting up and eating I began to make a salad for the husband and I (out of a small selection of random and questionable shit languishing at the bottom of the fridge) when an empty plate came skidding across the bench with an “I’m still hungry” following closely behind. Deep breath. Well, I pointed out, there was plenty of fruit, yoghurt, and a few other items I rattled off as I continued to cobble together the ‘salad’ out of tomorrow’s pre-compost. “I want salad” came the reply. Of course you fucking do.
So, because I am so mature, I cracked it, scoffed “FINE!” and pushed my bowl of ‘salad’ towards her. “You have it”. Again with the maturity, I made a big deal out of it to prove to her (or me, not sure which) that she was being a total cow for wanting my lunch, but it didn’t work. She just ate my salad.
Finally I managed to unearth myself something else to eat in an ultra down market version of a Masterchef mystery box challenge,. and was just heading to sit down with it when my husband came to give me a ‘comforting’ hug, Man, bad timing buddy. Just. Very. Bad. Timing.
So, about 45 minutes after starting to make my (first) lunch, I got to eat my plan b meal. I began to remember the days when my kids were babies and eating yourself just wasn’t even fucking worth it. When my son was little I could not put a single skerrick of food anywhere near my mouth without him clutching it out of my hand and slobbering all over it himself. It was just SO depressing. Just a little bit of something for yourself and even that was snatched away by a chubby little fist. It got to the point where I just didn’t eat at all, because I couldn’t handle the heartbreak.
If this is you – please, HOLD ON (and please go here if you need help). In a few years time there may still be occasions, like today for me, where it takes you 45 minutes, and 5 different meals, and an infinite number of silent “FFS”s until you can just eat your one shitty meal you’d been looking forward to, BUT these times will be fewer and farther between. And when you DO finally get to sit down and eat it, you too can reflect on how far you have come. Such are the small wins of being a parent!