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Thursday, August 9, 2012

Dinner Disaster

My fingers are flying across the keyboard pumping with adrenaline.  Recent events have caused me to take a few deep breaths and find an outlet for my rant that is about to follow.

It all started with the nice wholesome dinner I prepared for my children.  But of course, it wasn't what Camryn had hoped for.  It wasn't on the right color plate and the chocolate to milk ratio was all wrong.  That kind of whining, I can handle.  Usually I can easily distract her with our nightly high/low game.  But instead of recounting her day, which I thought was fun-filled, she decided to try to make her brother laugh.  She was making silly faces, talking jibberish and even threw in a few comments about tooting.  Strike one!

I thought I had roped it in.  Dylan was doing his best to keep a straight face sensing my impending frustration, which he probably enjoys as long as it is not aimed at him. And Camryn was quietly moving her food around her plate.  That's when I realized there was a puddle on her chair that was slowly dripping onto the floor.  With our drinks, clearly still intact on the table, I knew she had peed.  Hanging on to my last thread of sanity, I asked her why she peed on her chair and not in the potty, she of course took no responsibility for it and blamed me.  She said she didn't want to leave the table while we were eating. I called her bullshit because I often have to wrangle her back to the table several times throughout dinner.  Strike two!

When she returned newly dressed and dry, I just wanted everyone to finish as fast as possible to get this dinner over with.  But sadly, that wasn't the case. She filled her mouth with milk and rather than swallow it, she held it in and then spit it out on her plate full of food.  Sanity flew out the wind, I ripped her out of her chair and carried her kicking and screaming to her room.  During the transfer, she informed me it was again my fault because my face was funny.  Way to add insult to injury kid.  Strike three!

So she screamed and banged on the door for about thirty minutes before exhaustion took over and she is now sleeping on the floor next to her door.  I am in need of some serious ice cream therapy, but of course there is none in my freezer.  Strike four...I think I'm going to bed too!

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