My kids are simply amazing.
My oldest son is 8 and he’s a million times smarter than me! He dreams of becoming a meteorologist and, honestly, he’s already better at forecasting than our local stations.
My daughter is 7 going on 17. She does winged eyeliner better than most adults and her attitude is that of a really good lawyer. She can argue like nobody’s business, and while she drives me insane with it, I hope she never loses that spark – because, one day, she’s going to change the world.
My youngest is 3 and he’s literally the poster-boy for cuteness. He has a smile that could melt any heart and he’s happy, like, all the time.
As much as I love my kiddos…and as sure as I am that I’d walk through fire for any one of them, any time…
There is something I just have to admit:
I freaking HATE feeding them.
So, when I became a mom, I was blessed with these lovely things called “maternal instincts.” No one told me that I will forever be in charge of safety, security, and nourishment. I just knew those jobs were mine.
And what’s more – I was pleased to have those jobs bestowed upon myself. I had dreamt of becoming a mother my entire life and when nature came a-knocking with maternal needs, I was like, hell yeah I’m happy to do this stuff!
But, now that I’ve been a mother for almost 9 years AND I’m currently pregnant with child number four, I’m here to confess – I’m tired of feeding my kids!
It’s common sense – food keeps you alive. Therefore, ya gotta feed your children as part of keeping them alive. It’s simple. I feel it. I get it. Obviously, I do it.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every single day.
And every day an argument. A turned up nose. An “I’m not eating that!“
Man, when did food entitlement become a thing?
Is my job to nourish going to forever consist of cooking chicken patties and dinosaur nugs at the demands of little tyrants? Are they ever going to willingly eat anything else?
It’s a tale as old as time: I spend hours of my life every week, making grocery lists, meal plans, shopping…I’m constantly looking up new recipes to keep meals interesting. I cook everything. Comfort foods. Healthy foods. Old favorites. Soups, stews, chili. Homemade pizza, homemade pasta sauces. Grill, oven, air fryer…I freaking do it ALL and I do it to keep the fam fed and happy! I’m by no means a gourmet chef, but guys, I cook A LOT and OMG, I TRY!
And, yet, do the kids happily consume every meal I lovingly plan and prepare for them on the daily?
Hahahahaha! Of course not!
If it’s new, they assume it’s gross. If it’s healthy, they beg for corn dogs instead. If it’s something they loved last month, you can bet your bottom dollar all three will swear they’ve always hated that dish.
Ugh!
I had always heard motherhood was “a thankless job,” but I had no idea it would make me actually dread meal times.
The words, “mom, I’m hungry,” literally make me cringe.
The question, “what’s for dinner?” instantly pisses me off.
And I HATE knowing that, “can I have a snack?” is actually code for, “I’m filling up on junk because I know your dinner is gonna suck!”
No joke – TWICE this week, my oldest asked what I was making for dinner, then conveniently became so tired, he just couldn’t make it to the kitchen (don’t worry, we didn’t let him off the hook that easy).
So yeah, feeding my kids is one instinct that can just suck it at this point.
I mean, think about it: I have this archaic maternal NEED to keep my kids healthy, which most commonly comes in the form of preparing them food…and they just…won’t…accept…it!
WTF, right?
My two oldest kiddos are actually capable of a lot in the kitchen on their own (with proper supervision for certain things, of course). They are able to make sandwiches, pour cereal and milk, work a toaster or microwave…they can absolutely feed themselves in a pinch.
Except – they’d rather starve.
I’ve heard all the advice from other parents and grands. I’m as sure as they are that it’s just one of many crappy phases you deal with in parenthood.
Doesn’t stop it from sucking though.
I Wore This Yesterday 