ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Sometimes, when no one's looking, the conductor feeds me grapes and calls me "Babe"

To my beloved, cherished adult friends:

Words cannot express my deep, deep, deeeeeeeeeep (like the recesses of the ocean, where all those creepy eye-less fish live) desire to dine with you. Maybe here?



Maybe in a withered cardboard box on my sidewalk. It really doesn't matter. What matters is that I will not have to employ methods like timing you or racing you to get you to sit in your chair. Nor will I have to sit stuffed animals in the chair next to you and move their arms enthusiastically to prove that sitting at a table is fun.



It's fun, dammit!

I long to turn to you, mid-meal, and not have you sneeze or cough your dinner on me. I also eagerly anticipate your ability to discreetly remove unsavory food from your mouth instead of letting it avalanche down your lips and clothing and onto to the floor.

I love how you keep your utensils out of your nostrils, how you don’t need me to coerce food into your mouth by whistling, singing strange songs or by making a loud knocking sound that signals that the train conductor would like to be let into the station.



Mainly, I love that you'll just shut up and eat your vegetables.

Your ability to choose beverages—instead of screaming “nooooooooooooooo” because I mistakenly believed you wanted orange, not apple, juice—makes my heart flutter. (Or maybe that’s my leg hair fluttering? It has been a while since I’ve had more than 10 minutes to myself in the fricken shower.)

When we someday meet for dinner—next week? Tomorrow? Shall I come right now?— I hope you will look away as I cry into my plate. They are tears of joy. Tears free of strife, slimy germs and undesirable carrot chunks. Pure, unfettered tears.

I heart you and your meal prowess. Your ass looks fantastic in a chair that you don't need to be strapped into. Please don’t develop any freaky food issues from now until we can get together. That would kind of be the steak in the coffin.

Get it? Steak? Not stake?

Omigod I’m falling apart,
Mrs. Mullet

22 comments:

Keely said...

Hahhahhahhahah! You can't possibly be talking about ME - I'm fairly sure I've lost all those skills. Ask me to negotiate how many bites of green beans you have to have before you can go back to watching Ice Age:Meltdown.

6p00e54ed49fcb8833 said...

You know, I'd seriously invite you out to dinner if you could promise not to cut my meat for me.

Pricilla said...

You have obviously never eaten with a goat....

Dto3 said...

To have a dinner in silence would be awesome. Let's sneak off together and hit Outback.

Stacie said...

Your blog rocks!

I had to laugh at "All I do is flap my fucking arms." I just bought my daughter that same Elmo for Christmas. And, all he does is flap his fucking arms.

Sara said...

BWAHAHAHAHA! Hysterical! You make me laugh at 3:30 am. I'd better be quiet, the hoodlums are sleeping...Thankfully. My solution to your problem was I had two really close and bought them their own table. I haven't had the experience you described in a while.

Lindy said...

I am so sick of neogtiating how many more bites of something my kid has to eat before she can get up.

Not only quantity bites but also quality bites.

Just eat the damn corn and be done with it.

The Mother said...

Yeah, eating with the grownups is cool. The alcohol is better.

Mama Badger said...

I'd be happy to eat Mc Donald's with you, as long as you don't scream "Mine" everytime a fry gets near my mouth. Or tell me you're done, then scream bloody murder when I take your plate, only to toss it on the floor when I hand it back.

This is why having toddlers makes it impossible for parents to get together with other parents of toddlers. We might mutiny.

Brandy said...

oh how i miss adultness.

Frogs in my formula said...

Mutiny sounds delicious.

Oh no, another bad food pun.

Otter Thomas said...

My favorite is when our son swats the food out of his spoon and it flies all over creation.

Becki said...

I was afraid you'd been looking in my window for a minute there...

VandyJ said...

Real actual adult conversation without the yuck, I'm not eating that! comments. Surely you jest-that does not exist any more. Small people have taken over meal time and it will never be the same again.

blognut said...

OMG! I know! I have only one dinner negotiator left, the other two kids eat me out of house and home.

I swear this will pass, just hang in there!

Mrsbear said...

It gets better as they get older. Eventually they ignore you.

Although I did threaten to run away from home yesterday, so if I follow through on that I'm open for dinner. How many states away are you from Florida?

Petra a.k.a The Wise (*Young*) Mommy said...

I'm free tonight. No, seriously.

Buggys said...

It will get better, eventually they might become foodies and decide you no longer prepare desirable recipes and of course, you can't even prepare the undesirables properly! Then they go away.

Joan M. Cannon said...

Oh my Lord, and here I've been thinking that it was just ME engaged in the heat of battle(with my two-year-old Isabella Josephina)...I am failing miserably bec. I don't think I'm supposed to be turning to her and saying this as muych as i do:
"Now that's just bullshit...."

SLColman said...

You probably don't want to eat with me unless you don't mind dairy/wheat/gluten free food oh not to mention no bananas, pumpkin, squash, and red 40 please.

Have I mentioned that food allergies SUCK!

Small Town Mommy said...

I love dining with adults. I am happy to even cook for adults. They don't sit there and go "ewww." Come down anytime. I would be happy to cook for you as long as you promise not to complain.

peter said...

My heart beats faster at seeing that famous character from the moppets or so, sell I don't know whether the spelling is right but that's the idea. Can you imagine your arms like flaps, my life would be like crap if my arms were like that. When I first started to see that on TV my father started using medications for increasing his sexual activity Viagra Online.