The green beans simmered on the stove top as the scent of garlic filled the air. The kitchen became hot with steam from the stove, so I opened the kitchen window. Outside I could hear the children riding their bikes on the driveway. It wasn’t long before I peered out to find they had taken their helmets off.
Being the mean mother I am I yelled for them to protect their heads from possible death if they crashed. This resulted in an unnecessary argument in which I won by a thread. I love them too much to loose them on a bike. I want Grandchildren.
The fact is that some days are really grueling and hard being a Mom. Does this mean we have failed? Nope. It just means that we have tiny humans who make stupid mistakes JUST like we did as kids. It’s our job to guide them, even when exhaustion sets in. To make you feel better about your family time during dinner hours, I will be happy to share my dinnertime story while my husband was away working. Surely you will feel much better about yourself, and I won’t call you Shirley.
The day lasted longer than most. By the time dinner was served my eye was twitching from correcting young people that like to involve the word POOP into any sentence possible. My favorite today was:” I DON’T WANT TO EAT ALL MY DINNER, IT LOOKS LIKE POOP.”
Dear children. If I was going to serve you poop, I could easily do so. As much as you poop there would be much to go around. Alas, I am a nice person. So I fed you bourbon chicken, rice, rolls and green beans. I understand… to most this would be inedible… but at least I tried to please you.
I love when children giggle and make jokes, just not during meal times. Meal times should be moderately quiet … only because children should be chewing.
Tonight our children chose to laugh and carry on while dinner was to be eaten. If their Father was home during this whole thing this wouldn’t have been an issue. So after several warnings that I would separate them into different rooms in order to consume their disgusting food, I did.
I did the unthinkable in a rage for order. I put the oldest in his room to eat his dinner. The middle child went to the dining room table, and the baby I placed in her highchair in the corner of the kitchen. Everyone had food and water. No one was being hurt in this lesson. Only nourished.
There came a time tonight where I felt I was being disrespected in my own home. The food I had prepared in love was being pushed aside, and as a servant in my own home I was being dishonored. So, everyone ate in silence. Even me. I ate alone on the kitchen bar stool in silence and a few tears. Sometimes Motherhood requires a lot of discipline, although all you want to do is love on them.
Teaching children respect for adults is loving them.
Everyone ate their food and promptly went in silence to their bath time. At first I felt like a mean Momma, making them eat alone. But it wasn’t long before I saw that the lesson was learned. Everyone ate all of their dinner, fruit and all.
They were quiet as I brushed their teeth. The older two told me they were sorry for being disrespectful of my wishes.
Do I want to run a home in which our children don’t have fun , laugh and play? Absolutely not. I just want to run a home that I am respected in. If that takes a little hard ass Momma on my part, so be it.
Being a parent means taking this job day by day. Yes, I sure did say job. It requires all my energy, my love and my effort to make this family function. That’s a job if I ever heard of one. It’s one I am capable of doing, but need much wisdom and guidance in. No monetary value is placed on this JOB because it’s worth much more.
Sometimes we are required to lay down the law, set boundaries, and gripe a bit. And the next day we start fresh.
We are raising the next generation of adults. I want to do my part in making them respectable people, even if that means taking a few ” choices” away from them when need be.
Tonight when I laid down the law I saw them take me seriously. They knew this was a serious thing to their mother when tears streamed down my cheeks while making them move. Often times discipline hurts both parties, but in the end bears much fruit.