That could be gorgeous, I think. Grainy wood, long rectangular shape. Our German walls of concrete could even take the weight if we get out the impact drill...
Then I thought about the fact that there would be a mirror that would show what we look like eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
(Shudder.)
I'm thinking no.
I don't think I want to go there.
I barely get a bite of food in my mouth before I spy youngest child swiping a finger across the plate to get an extra lick of pesto.
So I chew my own food at the speed of sound to remind her that we don't do that.
I watch eldest child unable to close his lips over the quarter banana he popped in his mouth.
So I nearly choke on my oatmeal getting to "smaller bites, please!"
Then there's the middle child who wants to serve the youngest child, but youngest child most defiantly wants to serve herself. Her. Self.
We are in the learning years.
Armpit noises.
Spilled milk.
Finger in the honey jar.
Finger in the honey jar.
The unfortunate effects of beans several times a week.
"I want the FISH cup!"
Spending 45 minutes cooking dinner that takes approximately 7 to eat.
I really love when I try to tell Drew something about the day or ask him a question. We are generally interrupted approximately 4 times before we get to finish the thought.
I thought we might have mastered not learning to interrupt adults by now.
Really.
I do feel better having witnessed a beloved 18 year-old youth grouper nearly chant her mother's name trying to get her attention while in a conversation with me.
Thank goodness...we're all still learning.
"No cavemen allowed at the table, fork tines up, please."
Planting seeds.
"Where is your napkin?"
Raising polite little humans.
"Sit IN your chair, Ada."
Trying to remember to love them along the way.
Having a sense of humor.
Embracing the toddler who prays for the soup.
The truth is, sometimes there's that glorious moment, when I glance across the table set with placemats, napkins, and glasses and see children happily gobbling their vegetable stir-fry. They are using knives and forks in combination to get food to their mouths AND having a conversation with each other.
And I smile. And breathe. And keep going.
The truth is, sometimes there's that glorious moment, when I glance across the table set with placemats, napkins, and glasses and see children happily gobbling their vegetable stir-fry. They are using knives and forks in combination to get food to their mouths AND having a conversation with each other.
And I smile. And breathe. And keep going.
