And in my bid for Mother of the Year... | Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

And in my bid for Mother of the Year…

Author: thenicknick

fast food The kids and I had dinner around the console tonight. We were rushing to Keenan’s Open House at Quail Hollow Middle when the ridiculousness of the situation hit me. Rachel’s phone rang. And instead of carrying on a conversation while eating, she told the kid on the phone that she was having dinner and couldn’t talk at the moment.

I was struck by how sacred meals are to her, and that she was treating this with the same reverence she would a REAL meal. Huh. Instead, she was passing us food out of a bag while I drove.

me: I’m ready for that pie now.

Rachel: Mom, I thought you were eating healthy.

me: It’s apple.

She passed me the pie. I ate it, glancing over periodically to notice that she was very carefully weeding out her fries. She was about to put some back in the bag to be chucked.

me: Hey! You’re not going to eat those?

Rachel: You can have them if you want.

She passed me about ten fries left in the bag. And I began to wonder.

Rachel: I ate all the square ones. They’re the best.

me: So, I’m eating your fry cast-offs.

Rachel: Yup. Those are pointy. They don’t taste as good.

me: So, I’m eating mishapen fries?

Rachel: Yup.

We pull in to the school. Keenan looks around, checking out the place that his sister had gone just two years before.

Keenan: Yes, people. (His hands are in the air as though he’s surrendering.) This is what I’m a product of.

me: Parenting at its finest.

And as I looked around and realized how miserable most of the other families looked, how they weren’t even speaking to each other, or worse, were sniping at each other, I didn’t feel so bad. I studied my kids. They were laughing. They were joking with each other. Rachel was imparting her brand of wisdom, sharing her knowledge of the various teachers and the ins and outs of the school. They like each other. They like me. And I don’t just love them, I really like them, too.

So, we didn’t eat some home cooked meal around the kitchen table. And the nutritional value may be questionable. The quality of our time together isn’t. We’re doing okay.

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This entry was posted on Friday, August 21st, 2009 at 7:06 am and is filed under Parenting. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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