...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

betty draper would have fixed them with a steely glare and sent them to bed without dinner

Last night around the dinner table with my sons:

"Was this something pre-made?"

"You saw me standing at the oven cooking this meal not 20 minutes ago!"

"These noodles taste weird."

"These noodles taste like dirt. Are these noodles supposed to taste like dirt?"

"These noodles do not taste either weird or like dirt. These noodles taste fine."

"I'm thinking they taste weird."

"They're quick cooking noodles. That might have something to do with the flavor. They're fine. Let's just eat, OK?"

"I take it the corn is quick cooking corn then, too?"

"Seriously?"

"Well?"

"NO. It's just corn! Let's eat, OK?"

"That reminds me. When I woke up this morning, that hangy down thing in the back of your throat was numb."

"In my throat?"

"Yeah."

"My throat was fine."

"My throat!"

"Hmmm."

"It's not now, though."

"That's good. You should be able to eat without any problems then!"

"It was, though. It was weird."

"Indeed."

-- 45 seconds of uninterrupted eating --

-- or so I thought --

"Honey, I know your tooth is loose, but can you not try to pull it out at the dinner table?"

"That reminds me! Today in PE, we were playing hockey, and someone whacked me right here and I was bleeding."

"That will happen when you get hit in the nose."

"But it wasn't my nose. Weird."

-- looking down at my pasta...with red sauce --

"Can we just eat now?"

"Do you remember Courtney, Mom?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"She has this dry skin and it just flakes and hangs off her arms and stuff."

--putting my fork down --

-- because so far, putting my foot down hasn't worked --

"Also? When she thinks the teacher's not looking when we're on the carpet, she'll pick scabs off her legs and fling them."

"Well, be sure to duck if you see her aiming for you. And please, leave your loose tooth alone!"

"It's gross. She just picks, picks, picks!"

"Does she eat them?"

"No."

"So, it's kind of like this dinner, then, hmmm?"

"What?"

"She's saying this dinner is like Courtney's scabs."

"Huh?"

"Since you're not eating your dinner..."

"My nose is running."

"Seriously, this pasta tastes like dirt."

"It. Is. Fine!"

"I was looking at the Guinness Book of World Records today, and there's this dude who has 9 fingers on one hand!"

"Gross."

"I'm sure he didn't see himself as 'gross.'"

"And three of the fingers? Were stuck together! And there was, like, TWO THUMBS!"

"The better to pick up his fork and eat his dinner when his Mom asked him to, I'm sure."

"I've heard that a monkey went to space once. Is that true?"

"Yes. Also? Let go of your tooth!"

"Is it true, then, too, that corn helps you poop?"

--and then I caught myself actually explaining how corn doesn't fully digest in a person's body and five minutes later, I realized I was still talking about it, so I paused and pushed myself away from the table because clearly, this meal had gone down the crapper --

"I'm done. No dessert for you two tonight, gentlemen."

"Wha? Wait! This pasta's not too bad!"

Labels:

18 Comments:

Blogger Meg said...

Wow, that is quite the dinner conversation.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 9:28:00 AM  
Blogger MadameQueen said...

It was the scabs that got me. "Be sure to move out of the way if she flings them at you." Hahahahahaha. Priceless.

I don't know if this will make you feel better or not, but dinner at my house is often accompanied by a similar soundtrack.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 9:43:00 AM  
Blogger Bijoux said...

One time, I repeat, ONE F-ing TIME, I used frozen mashed potatoes for a dinner.

For the next decade, my oldest would ask, everytime we had mashed potatoes, "These aren't those frozen mashed potatoes,are they??"

I hope you don't have trouble with noodles from now on. I don't wish that torture on anyone.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 10:49:00 AM  
Blogger Pat said...

I just love your dinner conversations! I'd be a thin person if I ate with your family all the time! scabs, flaky skin, and noodles that taste like dirt!

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 1:26:00 PM  
Blogger Craig said...

Utterly delightful!

Sounds disconcertingly like some of our dinnertime conversations, actually. . . Right down to the dissertation on poop. . .

And I am strangely comforted that (per your tag line) you're giving thought to their future wives. . .

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 1:56:00 PM  
Blogger Anna See said...

I'm glad to hear some others have rousing dinner convos like we do. Sometimes M comes down wearing a surgical mask in anticpation of gross food.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 4:31:00 PM  
Blogger Possum said...

Delectable!

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 6:27:00 PM  
Blogger SciFi Dad said...

"My tummy says I'm full. Is it time for ice cream now?"

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 7:01:00 PM  
Blogger Sailor said...

Oh, so good to know it's not *just* my house!

I'll give you an encouraging bit of news though, cuz I'm all helpful like that...

It ends. Yep. The discussion of scabs, teeth, flaky skin & poop at the dinner table, will eventually be outgrown.

Of course, it's replaced with even *better* topics, like sex & drugs & "can I borrow the car?"
"Where are you going?"
"ummmm"
Silence

Good luck ;)

(Turns out, to go see a new girl, but he didn't want to say in front of the siblings, lol- there's that, too)

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 8:13:00 PM  
Blogger Logical Libby said...

Have you thought of going out for dinner? Not them, just you.

Wednesday, February 02, 2011 9:05:00 PM  
Blogger Bethany said...

See, because I have 4 children under age 9? This just makes me giggle, in a comradely way. Why is it that everything they need to share at the table is gross?! Thx fadkog. Love it.

Thursday, February 03, 2011 3:18:00 PM  
OpenID bikinfool said...

Isn't raising boys great? That conversation can't happen with girls. Funny how so many conversations devolve into talking about poop too. Guess it's a guy thing.

Friday, February 04, 2011 8:17:00 AM  
Blogger Kate Coveny Hood said...

When they're little, we so used to eating in between wiping bottoms and cleaning spit up off our clothes that we're not even phased by the gross out talk. But I guess that changes as they get older and require less assistance with their personal maintenance? I think I'm somewhere in the middle at the moment. I'm repulsed by my now less frequent contact with poop, but I can definitely finish my sandwich while I talk about it.

Friday, February 04, 2011 8:31:00 AM  
Anonymous Kelley @ magnetoboldtoo said...

If only I could tell you what The Damn Emos used to talk about at the dinner table...

But I don't want you go googling that shizzle cause DAY-UM, it was like their life goal to make me vomit at the table.

Damn kids.

Friday, February 04, 2011 6:09:00 PM  
Blogger TwoBusy said...

Your label pretty much says it all.

Sunday, February 06, 2011 6:43:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love this blog. Check out mine, it a contant work in progress:

http://mamachellec.blogspot.com/search/label/welcome

Sunday, February 06, 2011 5:53:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Meg - There's a dinner invitation extended to you! ;)

Madame Queen - This is the curse of all parents, isn't it?

Bijoux - Oh, lord, the mashed potato thing. What kid doesn't like mashed potatoes?! Oh, that's right. Mine. Almost nightly, I must assure them I'm not poisoning them with our meals.

Pat - My kids are so very thin because they spend all their time talking instead of eating. I could learn from THAT!

Craig - Lord have mercy on their future wives. :)

Anna See - I suffer the wrath and rejection of my kids about dinner before breakfast is even finished some days!

Possum - It's a refreshing treat every night!

SciFi Dad - We had a situation like this at our house this past week, but in a shocking reverse. My youngest insisted he was full, but I kept catching him sneaking back into the kitchen to eat chicken I'd shredded. "I LOVE chicken!" he declared. Cripes, I'd almost be tempted to make chicken nightly to get that kind of dinner reception!

Sailor - The only answer to the question of "Where are you going?" that I get here is "The bathroom." Weird how my boys ALWAYS have to go to the bathroom during dinner!

Libby - Brilliant idea...but are there restaurants out there? I'm only familiar with fast food...

Bethany - I think they store this information up and suspiciously only think of it during that time of warm family bonding at the dinner table!

bikinfool - Poop talk routinely comes right before the end of the salad course around here with these boys.

Kate - As long as I don't have to catch anyone's poop and/or vomit, I can pretty much go on eating while discussing it. This is what motherhood does to us!

Kelley - Was it while eating vegamite? Oh, Australia, I love ya!

TwoBusy - I should probably just stick with those!

Anonymous - Thanks!

Sunday, February 06, 2011 8:30:00 PM  
Anonymous Jenn Sullivan said...

Wow, this was awesome. I just found your blog today and I never in my life thought that other people get pulled into these crazy kinds of conversations with their kids that never seem to end and just keep getting worse. I am surprised you are able to remember it all, I try to forget it while it's happening!

Thursday, February 10, 2011 10:35:00 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home