tired body parts

Dinner time at our home is the one consistent battle we wage. Manners are a funny thing, aren’t they? There are so many indiscretions that don’t get me worked up: nose-picking, farting, and belching, for example. A simple, “excuse me” and you are in the clear as far as The Mama is concerned. But for whatever reason, I really need the Kidling to sit on her ass and eat her food at dinner time. My blood pressure rises just thinking about a wiggly little booger who is messing around and whose food might as well not exist for the amount of attention it is paid.

Okay, that is far slower than my ticked-off heart rate, but I dare you not to choose the video made by someone who calls himself/herself “NeonCupcake121.” When there are a million choices, go with a cupcake every time.

The Mama Monster. No wait, this is Zombie Mommy. Sunuva gun, I have too many alter egos.

We try not to make every single meal an epic battle. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we don’t, but the baseline rule is that dinner is meant for:

  1. Eating; and
  2. Having conversation; and that all dining parties must
  3. Sit on their bottoms or their knees.

No exceptions, or The Mama turns into a monster. The Dada doesn’t lose his cool because The Dada never, ever loses his cool. Lucky bastard.

The Kidling struggles like hell with this. All parts of it, really, as she:

  1. Doesn’t want to eat;
  2. Cannot keep herself from singing and jumping out of her seat for myriad microscopic “emergencies;” and
  3. Wants desperately to be allowed to squat in the most precarious and dangerous position known to kid-kind.

It won’t surprise you to learn that I had to tell The Kidling to remove her tiny body from the world’s most dangerous dining position. She objected vehemently, telling me, “My knees are tired of kneeing and my bottoming is tired of bottoming.”

Though this should have been positively enraging, I giggled. Then The Mama Monster crawled back into her cave and called it a night.

About The Mamahttp://kidlingville.comProfessional talker, editor, emailer, problem solver, adjunct lecturer, blogger, and mother to the brilliantly absurd Kidling.

21 thoughts on “tired body parts

    • Ha! Thanks, Shannon! I was in South Carolina in August in that picture, so the hair cannot be replicated in real life (outside of a sauna).


  1. She has learned how to tame the Mama Monster – after all, what can a monster say in response to ‘my bottom is tired of bottoming’? 🙂

  2. I’m not certain if it’s any consolation, but supper time at our house is exactly the same way, with any semblance of my cool being lost about 10 minutes into each and every evening meal. Also, Saarah has a knack for knowing exactly what to say, or which face to make in order to get herself out of trouble. Just last night I was saying that if she spent half the amount of energy on actually eating her supper that she expends on doing anything but, Saarah would be able to consume her supper in a matter of seconds.

    In case it wasn’t abundantly clear by this point, this issue is near and dear to my heart, and while I have absolutely no suggestions to offer, I’m with you 100%. Perhaps we should form a support group.

    • Yes, Moishe! A support group is brilliant. You, however, are in charge of naming it. It must include one Yiddish word that is very fun to say. What say you?

  3. That’s dinner at our house every night. My MIL read an article stating that eating dinner together as a family is one of the best things you can do for you kids. I wonder if killing your kids over eating dinner together counts.

      • You can absolutely call me Fathead–my father did.
        By the way, I nominated you for that Versatile Blogger award thingy. However, I’m not asking you to follow any silly rules. I hate blog spam. But I do enjoy your blog and thought you deserved a shout out.

  4. Huh. My knees are tired of kneeing, too. I just thought it was early-onset arthritis. But my bottom never gets tired of bottoming. If I could sit on my a$$ all day long, I would.

    • I was soooo confused by this comment, then I remembered the picture. Best photo ever, no? Every time I see it, I wonder to myself how the beautiful little specimen on the left could have come from that goofy looking face on the right. Was the photo taken mid-sneeze? Mid-sneer? Mid-life? Who knows, but it ain’t pretty.

      And yes, my shoulders are amazing. Amazingly huge. And square. And, well, huge. But I think I already said that.

  5. Sounds a lot like every meal at our house!! And when I lose my cool about sitting and eating, my youngest usually looks at me and says, “I love you Mommy.” Which shouldn’t work after the 100th time, but somehow he pulls it off. Can’t figure it out!

  6. Pingback: fast forward « the book of alice

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