Family Dinners? F*@k that!!
We’re not very good with family dinners in our house. I keep saying that we’ll start doing them regularly, but it rarely works out. The kids need to eat by 5:30-6pm in order to get through the dinner/bath/bedtime routine by 7pm, and Mr McD and I aren’t ready to eat then.
Occasionally we give it a go, generally with disastrous results. Take our Boxing Day dinner for example. We had so much food on Christmas Day that we didn’t end up even putting our turkey in the oven, so I decided to cook it for the four of us on Boxing Day, with all the trimmings – potatoes, sweet potato, parsnips, carrots, peas, gravy and a couple of pigs in kilts on the side.
I thought it would be lovely to have an early dinner with the kids so we could all enjoy it together. (I’m shaking my head in disbelief at my naivety as I write this).
So after slaving away in the kitchen for about three hours getting it ready, we all sat down to ‘enjoy’ our meal. Ha! What a freaking joke!
From the minute we sat down, Little Miss flat out refused to even try anything on her plate, and began crying and carrying on, howling to be let down from the table.
“I don’t want my dinner, I don’t LIKE my dinner!” screamed my sweet Princess. “It’s YUCK!”
“But darling, you haven’t even tried it! Why don’t you just have a little taste – this is just like chicken, you like chicken! And the potatoes are just like big chips, you LOVE chips!”
“NO! It’s YUCK!” Tears streaming down her face, with strangled, choking sounds coming out by this point.
“Just have a lick. I promise you, if you actually taste it, you’ll really like it!”
“NO! It’s YUCK! I WANT TO GET DOWN!”
The Stuntman looked like he was having a go at his meal, but in actual fact was just using a piece of roast potato to smear gravy all over his chair, the tray in front of him and himself. He then commenced throwing each and every piece of his meal on the floor, first smearing it in gravy so it was extra sticky. Mr McD and I sat quietly, with steam coming out of our ears, trying to enjoy the delicious meal with the soundtrack of some kind of horror movie blaring all around us.
At this point I gave up and just let them both down from the table (many many baby wipes later), and said they could sit on the lounge and watch TV while we finished our meal (which was very quickly going cold). But no, they had no interest in leaving us in peace, and continued their double act from the floor. The Stuntman decided then that he was actually hungry after all, but only for booby milk, and that it was imperative that I feed him right then and there. He was climbing up my leg, onto my lap and pulling down my shirt, while I tried to remain calm and shovel in the remains of my dinner. I ended up sitting at the table with him attached to my left boob, scooping up peas with a spoon, trying to hold a conversation with Mr McD as if nothing was going on.
What a waste of a turkey! So we’ve given up on the family dinner idea for another little while, we’ll just continue eating our dinner at 8:30pm in peace and quiet. So what if it gives us indigestion eating that late; at least we can enjoy our meal and have a conversation!
Do you do family dinners at your place? How the hell do you manage it?!?