Almost Found Out for Who I Am!

Let me just come out and say it: I am never winning mother of the year. And I don't even pretend to be in the running. If they started the qualifying every January 1st at midnight, I'd be disqualified by 12:05 a.m. When my older son, in fits of anger, tells me I'm the worst mommy ever, I just nod and agree with him.

It's easier that way. Why fight the truth?

You may ask: "Why do you consider yourself a bad mommy?" Well, there are numerous reasons. And I'm sure I'll share them with you over the coming weeks. But today's example of poor parenting concerns my inability to properly feed my children according to the standards, of well, most people with basic standards.

Let me preface this by stating: I myself have never been a good eater. I think I went until 4 pm yesterday before eating something. Today, I was good and actually had a snack around lunch time. It's not that I don't like eating, I just have others things I rather be focusing on. If you put food in front of me, I'll eat it. But left to my own devices, well...As my husband says, I'd never survive in the wild.

My children have learned to adapt to my lackadaisical attitude towards food by fending for themselves. Older Boy, who is 5, began raiding the refrigerator regularly, until I, in all my wisdom, decided to stock the bottom shelf with healthy snacks for him and Younger Boy. My mother is pretty much in a constant state of criticizing my mothering when it comes to food.

Part of the problem is I'm just not very interested in food. Recipes, cooking? I'd rather balance my checkbook. I'm firmly in the camp that sees food as fuel - if it tastes good, well, that's just a plus. If someone came out with the type of nutritious gruel that the people in "The Matrix" eat on-board the Nebuchadnezzar, I'd be mad stocking up on it.

But, back to the topic at hand: My messy mothering.

One of the neighbors, a girl about a year older than Older Boy, came over to play this morning at our house. Older Boy starting complaining he was hungry. I looked at the clock. It was 11:30. Oh, crap: Lunchtime. Even worse than that, lunchtime with an outside participant.

I tried not to panic.

Lunch at our house generally consists of either leftovers from dinner, ramen noodles, sandwiches, or macaroni and cheese. We didn't have leftovers from dinner. Crap. A peanut  butter and jelly sandwich didn't seem adequate enough to feed someone else's child. My kids? Sure, nothing but the minimal standard for my kids, but this involved someone else's child. I opened the pantry to look inside. I offered macaroni and cheese. Nope, neighbor kid had it for lunch the day before. I began to panic. My poor mommying was about to be found out. Luckily, Older Boy poked his head into the pantry and screamed, "RAMEN!" Neighbor girl got excited about ramen. Phew! Saved! I made the kids ramen and supplemented it with apples. Apples are healthy, right? 

The kids happily munched their ramen and apples. Disaster averted. Neighbor girl went home with a full tummy and my secret was safe.

For now.