Let them eat cake

Why is it when you are bored, your body suddenly thinks this would be a perfect time to eat?  I mean, did the cavemen and women have a moment where they were just sitting around after dinner, and decided, "hey, you know what would be really fun to do right now?  Eat again!"  So now when we are sitting around bored we go back to that priamal time in our lives and eat.  At least I hope that is what it is, because it would at least be a valid reason.  We could say, "Instinct got me again! It is a primal instinct you know...."  You would think it would be the opposite.  You would think that since your body is burning fewer calories from being sedentary, it would not crave food.  Do you realize how thin I would be???   

Not that I sit around.  I mean, really.  I have told my mom on many many occasions how I need to install a spring to my backside, because every time I sit down, someone needs something, and I have to jump right back up again. I think the only time I sit down is after they go to bed, and then I am laying down as fast as possible, (with preferably graham crackers, nutella, and duck dynasty on.)  It is just that when I am following the crazies around, I am not really working up a sweat.  The exhaustion comes mostly from mental anguish, as opposed to physical labor. 

You also would think that the opposite would be true for toddlers.  You would think that by the amount of physical exertion they exhume, they would eat an entire cow for dinner.  But they don't. In fact, I can barely get them to eat a mouthful.  I would take it personally, except I have had multiple people that are not my husband/mother/father/family tell me I am a pretty good cook.

Let me paint a picture for you.  It is 5 oclock.  One of my twins, we will call her Thumbellina, comes up to me, "mommy, I am hungry."  My maternal instinct kicks in.  Need must be met!  So I start dinner.  I will use our most recent dinner that was NOT pizza or Raising Cane's (don't judge me).  I made homemade hamburger patties in homemade from scratch brown gravy, with creamy mashed potatoes, and green beans.  I am not a slacker when I do cook.  I try to keep out the processed crap, and leave that to the other days when we eat out.  Hey man, it is all about balance.  A day of chemical free, then two days of crap.  It is all good.
 I get all of this prepared, while my other twin, we will call her mini-me, because OH MY GOD THIS CHILD IS ME.  From the sassy talk, to the way she mothers EVERYONE around her.  She is my clone.  Any way, I digress. She comes up to me and says, "Mommy, I am hungry." 

"Alright baby, it will be ready in 5 minutes."  Then I hear a stampede of feet from the downstairs playroom, where my youngest, little man, and the Admiral come running up. 
"Dinner almost ready?" 
"Yes, in a couple of minutes."  So I am plating it up, cutting up peices (because when you have 3 toddlers you are Cutting. Food. Up. Forever.  Serisouly, by the time I get it all diced up, the food is almost cold, which is good because Thumbelina has a thing with things being "Too HOT!!') I call in his royal highness, the 10 year old, from outside. 

Dinner is served.

LET THE MELTDOWN BEGIN!  This particular night was the night of the infamouse "Call of Duty" fiasco.  But really, you insert any of his royal highness's recent issues, because this is a nightly thing.  Then please add Thumbellina blowing on her cold food, not eating, yelling at her dad who is next to her, "To HOT!" and he is trying to say to her "It isn't hot, it is fine now." but she will have none of it.  On top of this, add Mini-me's also not eating,  calling for "I need ketchup!  I need branch!" (ranch dressing, she calls it branch)  and me trying to answer and say, 'it is gravy baby, you don't need ketchup or ranch', and her just yelling more. So I give it to her, and then she won't eat it, because well, it is gross now.  Then on top of that cacophony, add little man, banging his spoon on the table, refusing to eat, and yelling "I no like it.  I no like it." and  "Potatoes." as he only eats the mashed potatoes that do NOT have my delicious gravy on them, and winging green beans at his sister.  All the while his royal highness is also not eating, and telling me how mean I am that I won't let him play call of duty.

When all is said and done, the only people who have had really anything to eat is my husband, because I have been up running around cooling off cold food, pouring ranch over gravy (GROSS!!!), and taking away little man's spoon, cup, green beans, and anything else he could launch.

Now, remind me why, again, is the dinner hour so sacred and important?  Because every night  I leave dinner,  not feeling closer to my family, but mainly thinking about lacing all of their food with Benedryl so they will just go to bed after, and I can lay down.