by LAUREN INCOGNITO Several scenarios come to mind when I think of what constitutes torture for me but none so much as mealtime with my kids. There is nothing relaxing or leisurely about dinner in our house, quite the opposite. There is no chewing or sipping of drinks; there is no stimulating conversation about political candidates or global warming. Eating a meal at our house is like being in an evacuation; I never know whether to pick up my fork or the emergency backpack. The last time I chewed my food entirely was circa 2011. Most of my meals are swallowed whole or ripped apart the way an anaconda might gag down an alligator carcass. I don’t recall the last quiet, mess-free meal shared by my family. Someone is usually getting yelled at, typically my daughter. It doesn’t matter that I’ve pleaded with her hundreds of times to sit correctly in her chair, or simply sit. She’s up 42 times throughout dinner for a drink or a napkin. One of my sons is a chronic beverage spiller, usually coinciding at the exact moment some other chaos is unfurling around the table. If I was blindfolded and three states away I […]
by LAUREN INCOGNITO Several scenarios come to mind when I think of what constitutes torture for me but none so much as mealtime with my kids. There is nothing relaxing or leisurely about dinner in our house, quite the opposite. There is no chewing or sipping of drinks; there is no stimulating conversation about political candidates or global warming. Eating a meal at our house is like being in an evacuation; I never know whether to pick up my fork or the emergency backpack. The last time I chewed my food entirely was circa 2011. Most of my meals are swallowed whole or ripped apart the way an anaconda might gag down an alligator carcass. I don’t recall the last quiet, mess-free meal shared by my family. Someone is usually getting yelled at, typically my daughter. It doesn’t matter that I’ve pleaded with her hundreds of times to sit correctly in her chair, or simply sit. She’s up 42 times throughout dinner for a drink or a napkin. One of my sons is a chronic beverage spiller, usually coinciding at the exact moment some other chaos is unfurling around the table. If I was blindfolded and three states away I […]