Wednesday, July 31, 2013

First World Problems

Seriously, though, it's just a matter of perspective, right? Surely we all have the right to complain sometimes.

So, a few evenings ago...

The kids and I were alone for the evening, and they were playing in the water table in our yard while I was destringing sugar snap peas. Maggie was down to panties since her dress had gotten slightly damp (Leo could be wrung out but couldn't have cared less). I had told her if she wanted to remove her panties as well, she had to play inside. Somehow this instruction was heard as, "You can play in the yard naked as the day you were born so long as you bring your wet clothes inside first." Oh, well. It's not like Brian's childhood friend and his modest, quiet daughter hadn't just dropped by to chat.

Actually, that part was just funny. Did I mention the sugar snap peas? Maggie loves sugar snap peas, and even Leo was getting into the action of stealing them from the colander once they were destrung. I had to stop them at one point because I needed them for this pasta recipe.

Eventually, we moved inside and all took a turn for the worse. I made the pasta and served it with oranges on the side. The oranges were gobbled up, but the pasta was scorned. Did I mention my children's love for sugar snap peas? They also love pasta. Ricotta has no taste and the lemon was extremely mild. Basically I served them sugar snap peas in noodles, and they found it utterly disgusting. Please tell me other mothers deal with this too. Individual foods are acceptable; prepared, combined foods are the worst of insults. This happens every night I attempt a real meal, and I am beyond tired of it. Leo littered the floor with his, and Maggie sat in her chair and whined. I ate mine, left the dining room and proceeded to clean the house (and start into a leftover half bottle of wine) to ease my irritation. Eventually, Maggie claimed she had eaten five bites. If she had, they were miniscule, so I filled her fork with one more and told her she could be done if she ate it (by this point it was bedtime anyway).

Then, while getting her changed for bed, she informed me she'd put her food on the floor. We headed back to the dining room to clean it up, and I discovered she'd spit her entire mouthful masticated pasta and peas onto the dining room floor. It took all my reserves of patience to wet a paper towel and tell her she'd better get busy. She didn't hesitate. And she didn't complain when I told her to get back in her chair and try that pasta again (though she did gag dramatically while eating it--the girl's got flair).

I celebrated the end of two bedtime routines with another glass of wine and an episode of Benedict Cumberbatch (which I truly believed was a name made up by my father the first time I heard it) as Sherlock Holmes (I'm eating this series up, by the way, though I find it hard to distract myself from BC's truly homely physiognomy) for me.

But then Brian stepped on my wine glass and smashed it like it was June 17, 2007. I finished my episode on the promise that there was more wine left in the bottle. But what found in the kitchen was  dirty dishes and an empty wine bottle. Brian offered me his empty (he didn't realize) glass in apology and taunted me with his blue teeth the rest of the evening.

http://insidemovies.ew.com/2012/10/23/steve-carell-alexander-and-the-terrible-horrible/

 My bath was too hot. My marble went down the drain. And I had to wear my railroad train pajamas. I hate my railroad train pajamas.


(By the way, I just discovered this book is being made into a movie with Steve Carrell and Jennifer Garner!)




First world problems, as I said. Maggie may not be the only one with a flair for the dramatic.

P.S. I did get flowers and an apology from Maggie, prompted by her daddy. Very sweet.

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