XOXOXO.

Dinnertime is increasingly stressful for me. My conscience dictates that I serve something not only appetizing but healthy at some level, which basically means there should be a fruit, a vegetable, and whole grains somewhere on the table. Our dinners never lack variety. Tim has even mentioned that he wouldn't mind if I cooked certain favorite dishes more than, say, once every three months...
My attempts to help my 3-year-old try new things are failing miserably. Her will is too strong to break and honestly, I'm not a big fan of turning food into a control issue. But recently, she has stopped eating fruits and vegetables altogether. I'm at my wits end. The other night, my other two daughters (who eat only marginally better) turned up their noses at what I had cooked for dinner. There was plenty to choose from, the main dish was a child's favorite (pizza!), and they still didn't bother to touch their food. Even when I threatened that they would not get so much as a morsel of Rachel's birthday cake, they claimed they were full after a measly 4 grapes and a slice of apple apiece. Tim wasn't around to calm my escalating mood. Out flowed a stream of negativity for the next half hour until the kids had satisfied my requirements.
Sadly, the damage had been done. Still stuck in a rut of moodiness, I sat down on the couch in exasperation while Anna visibly sulked in the corner. She quietly remarked, "Mom, I haven't gotten any hugs or kisses today." She was wrong. But her comment was a pretty good indication that my criticism had not been balanced out by enough affection earlier in the day. I apologized, welcomed her onto my shrinking lap and hugged the guts out of her, stroking her hair and showering her with kisses.
So, I'm a bad mommy. And a good mommy. At least she could muster the courage to ask me for the affection she needed and know that it would be greeted with only the best of reactions. For that, I'm glad. But I'll do better next time.