The fight over food- From the Bungalow

Tonight’s blog is a guest post by fellow blogger From the Bungalow. If you like what you read, be sure to check him out on his blog and his Facebook page!

“Hey- What are you picking up for dinner?” It’s from Karin via Facebook Messenger on my phone. Dang. I forgot I said I’d pick something up tonight.
I’m already on my way home from work. It’s Friday and I’m ready to unwind a bit. Only my kids are leaving for two weeks tomorrow to spend the holidays with their mom, and we’re hosting brunch tomorrow. There won’t be much chance to chill tonight. I think to myself, It’s cool. I’ll just call her and find out what she wants to eat.
“Hey, I forgot that I was supposed to pick up dinner. What did you want?” Simple, right? She says she doesn’t care, but she doesn’t feel like pizza. Fair enough. I’ll have to stop at Arby’s anyway to grab something for the boy with dietary restrictions (GFCF). But what about the other ones? Maybe I’ll get a pizza for us and some Arby’s for them. Oh, they don’t want pizza tonight? They love pizza. They’re tired of it, you say? But it costs twice as much to feed everyone Arby’s as it does to get a Hot-N-Ready from Little Caesar’s. Fine, whatever, Arby’s is fine. So what do you want? The usual? What’s the usual? Wait, you don’t really feel like Arby’s? Well what should I get? Oh, you’ll eat anything I bring home?…
By now, we’ve spent a good 15 minutes getting worked up over what crappy fast food I should buy. I hang up, frustrated, and decide to stop at Mickey D’s AND Arby’s since they’re basically next door to each other, and both on the way home. This way, I think, I can get lots of dollar menu stuff and please everyone.
Two kinds of fries, four potato cakes, a large soda, and eight sandwiches in four varieties later, I get home. “Old McDonald’s!” the youngest one yells. No “Hi, Dad” or “thanks for yummy dinner, Dad.” Just lots of where’s-my-food style blurting. OK, I tell myself, they’re little. They still don’t get the grateful thing. Chicken sandwich, cheeseburger, or roast beef? I start doling out sandwiches, fries, and potato cakes. Wait a second, there are five of us, aren’t there? Eight sandwiches won’t be enough. Dur. Let’s cut one in half and the little ones can split a second sandwich.
Now I’m starting to lose my shit.
“You’re gonna cry over getting a sandwich and a half instead of two sandwiches? How about next time you don’t get any? Give me a fudging break!”
Only I didn’t say fudge. I said THE word–the big one–the Queen Mother of Dirty Words: the F-dash-dash-dash word. Queue ominous, minor-key violin music. Oops.
I usually don’t drop the F-bomb in front of the kids. It probably goes without saying, but dinner only declined from there. I felt guilty, only instead of apologizing and moving on, I acted like a complete ass, most likely for the sake of consistency. Ego was now running the show. Suck it up, Dad, you’re blowing it!
There was walking away from the dinner table and awkward silence and pointless tension. What should have been an easy, fun dinner was a complete fiasco. But you see, dear reader, it wasn’t really about that now, was it? I let the stress of the week get to me. Before I had a chance to transition from office to home, which I usually try to do during my drive with some music and loud singing–complete with campy a capellainstrumental lines–it seeped out and oozed projectile vomited all over my family.
So I found myself doing what I tend to do on a no-less-than-twice-daily basis: apologizing. Because let’s face it; if you can’t be perfect, the least you can do is apologize, right? Thankfully, Karin is very forgiving. She doesn’t like to hold onto things. Me, I’m a grudge holder. It’s dumb, and I try not to do it. Apologizing helps.
I think next time I’ll stick with the Hot-N-Ready.
Posted on December 17, 2011 by Holdin' Holden 6 Comments
Holdin' Holden

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  • It’s funny. I read half of this post, and then had to go correct my 2 year old for saying ‘fuck’…. then I came back and finished the post…lol. Clearly, I’m equally guilty.

  • LOVE LOVE LOVE your honesty. I think by going to our most difficult truths is the only way we can truly grow. And being able to go back and say, “I’m sorry,” is huge. People don’t say it often enough. Your kids learned something from you tonight: we make a mistake, we apologize, and we move on. Thank you for being real.

  • Thanks for your comments, Heather and HFM! I seriously apologize to someone for something every single day. Not because I feel like I should, but because I believe in maintaining positive relationships with people. At times, it seems that’s most difficult to do with my own kids.

  • LOL!!! it’s ok, you are definitely not the only one to let the ole F bomb slip from time to time. kids have big mouths and even bigger ears. i thought we were being careful, until one day my 5 year old found the mess the cats had made of his legos. i was totally unprepared for the whole hands-on-hips, “mom, those F*cking cats did it again,” o.O

  • F*cking cats! Haha! Sometimes we think the youngest one is so zoned out that he doesn’t hear what we’re saying, but it’s still going into those little ears of his on some level, I’m sure. I gotta be more careful.

  • Next time get one sandwich and make them all fight over it. Whoever ends up with it deserves it more than the others anyway.

    JJ – The Dude of the House
    Twitter: @DudeOfTheHouse