Day 1 in the books as a single parent while Thelma is away at BYU for her yearly pilgrimage to Women's Conference. Traditionally, life without Mom has meant an orgy of fast food and takeout. No sooner had I dropped Thelma and my mother off at the airport then Braeden was calling me to see what I had planned for lunch.
"I was thinking we could go to the Grand China Buffet," he suggested in his sweetest voice.
I'm determined that this year will be different, though. We aren't going to eat out every meal. We're going to make our best attempt at cooking for ourselves, controlling our portions and choosing (moderately) healthy ingredients. That's our plan and we're sticking to it... starting tomorrow.
Tonight, it was the Grand China Buffet after all. Braeden speaks of it in reverent tones. Eight tables of Chinese and American food plus a Mongolian grill and sushi bar. He must have been playing it up behind the scenes because Emma and Mark were giddy like Christmas morning as we left for swim practice—an inconvenient pit stop, as they viewed it, on our way to what I heard someone in the back seat call the Terrestrial Kingdom of food. There are a lot of motivations for obeying God's commandments and seeking heaven. Apparently, my children are motivated by the menu. (Are there free refills in Eternity?) Thankfully, their gastro-theology leaves room for more refined dining.
Braeden was too busy stuffing his face to say much during our meal. He did come up for air long enough to try some sushi. He managed to keep it down, which is more than I was able to do. I want to like sushi, I really do. But I can't quite suppress the gag reflex when that seaweed flavor kicks in.
Emma was proud of her healthy choices—salad, fruit, vegetables, small portions—although I'm not sure you're allowed to be so self-congratulatory after plate number nine. Still, she was determined to have something healthy on every plate. Her desert plate consisted of chocolate pudding, vanilla pudding, jello, a brownie and—wait for the healthy part—a single grape the size of a small plum.
Mark is never without words and appreciation for food. He tried some new things. He discovered that he does not like coconut shrimp but does enjoy sucking clams right out of the shell. At one point he looked at me with a chow mein noodle dangling off his wide grin and said, "What if I was eating this while I was laying in bed and playing Lego Star Wars and a robot would just put food in my mouth and I would eat it. That would be awesome."
I started to get worried when he was going to get a few more grapes and instead came back with a plate full of jello and a cheeseburger. (The fact that I wasn't worried any sooner should tell you all you need to know about the quality of my parenting.) I told him that he had probably had enough for dinner. He looked at me with a sense of panic. "I thought this was lunch!" Whatever it was, it was more than enough. Mark's parting words were a declaration that tomorrow he would be fasting. He had just eaten dinner and breakfast.
The drive home was a series of moans about stomachs being too full interspersed with Chuck Norris jokes. ("Chuck Norris's tears can cure cancer. Unfortunately, Chuck Norris never cries.") At one point Mark asked for silence so he could say a "personal prayer so I won't feel sick". I tried to explain to Mark that sometimes we just have to suffer the consequences of our bad decisions. Braeden and Emma chided me for discouraging prayer.
Everyone is asleep now. It's been an hour since we ate and no, I'm not hungry yet. I'm left with a quiet house and my own thoughts to ponder the little words of wisdom we extracted from our fortune cookies.
"To truly listen, you must use your ears, not your eyes."
I'm not exactly sure what that means, but as Braeden put it, "any dumb thing can sound wise if you just make it Chinesey."
"I was thinking we could go to the Grand China Buffet," he suggested in his sweetest voice.
I'm determined that this year will be different, though. We aren't going to eat out every meal. We're going to make our best attempt at cooking for ourselves, controlling our portions and choosing (moderately) healthy ingredients. That's our plan and we're sticking to it... starting tomorrow.
Tonight, it was the Grand China Buffet after all. Braeden speaks of it in reverent tones. Eight tables of Chinese and American food plus a Mongolian grill and sushi bar. He must have been playing it up behind the scenes because Emma and Mark were giddy like Christmas morning as we left for swim practice—an inconvenient pit stop, as they viewed it, on our way to what I heard someone in the back seat call the Terrestrial Kingdom of food. There are a lot of motivations for obeying God's commandments and seeking heaven. Apparently, my children are motivated by the menu. (Are there free refills in Eternity?) Thankfully, their gastro-theology leaves room for more refined dining.
Braeden was too busy stuffing his face to say much during our meal. He did come up for air long enough to try some sushi. He managed to keep it down, which is more than I was able to do. I want to like sushi, I really do. But I can't quite suppress the gag reflex when that seaweed flavor kicks in.
Emma was proud of her healthy choices—salad, fruit, vegetables, small portions—although I'm not sure you're allowed to be so self-congratulatory after plate number nine. Still, she was determined to have something healthy on every plate. Her desert plate consisted of chocolate pudding, vanilla pudding, jello, a brownie and—wait for the healthy part—a single grape the size of a small plum.
Mark is never without words and appreciation for food. He tried some new things. He discovered that he does not like coconut shrimp but does enjoy sucking clams right out of the shell. At one point he looked at me with a chow mein noodle dangling off his wide grin and said, "What if I was eating this while I was laying in bed and playing Lego Star Wars and a robot would just put food in my mouth and I would eat it. That would be awesome."
I started to get worried when he was going to get a few more grapes and instead came back with a plate full of jello and a cheeseburger. (The fact that I wasn't worried any sooner should tell you all you need to know about the quality of my parenting.) I told him that he had probably had enough for dinner. He looked at me with a sense of panic. "I thought this was lunch!" Whatever it was, it was more than enough. Mark's parting words were a declaration that tomorrow he would be fasting. He had just eaten dinner and breakfast.
The drive home was a series of moans about stomachs being too full interspersed with Chuck Norris jokes. ("Chuck Norris's tears can cure cancer. Unfortunately, Chuck Norris never cries.") At one point Mark asked for silence so he could say a "personal prayer so I won't feel sick". I tried to explain to Mark that sometimes we just have to suffer the consequences of our bad decisions. Braeden and Emma chided me for discouraging prayer.
Everyone is asleep now. It's been an hour since we ate and no, I'm not hungry yet. I'm left with a quiet house and my own thoughts to ponder the little words of wisdom we extracted from our fortune cookies.
"To truly listen, you must use your ears, not your eyes."
I'm not exactly sure what that means, but as Braeden put it, "any dumb thing can sound wise if you just make it Chinesey."
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