Last night Cooper refused to eat dinner. (What’s new, right?) There was kicking, screaming, head hitting, throwing, etc. The whole ordeal lasted a little over an hour. I got it into my head that this kid was taking one bite of pasta. And I wasn’t giving up.
After the first time-out Cooper took a bite. And then pulled out the gagging. And spit it out.
He shoved his plate, threw his fork, dumped out his milk, and dropped a few handfuls of pasta on the floor.
I went about my business picking up as he thrashed and kicked. Once he calmed down we tried bite number two. Again, the gagging and spitting.
Next came some hitting and kicking and then a short second time-out.
The whole time Jamie and Sawyer were watching this shit show from the living room. Not to mention the windows were open so I can only assume the neighbors had social services on the phone.
I was progressively getting more frustrated. I think I even started repeating the words “one F-ing bite kid.”
And then Jamie looked at me and said, “it’s not his fault Kate.”
I was speechless. I sat down at the table and thought, “is that what people think? Do you they think I blame him? Is that possible?
It’s a constant struggle between expecting more from Cooper and not wanting to expect too much.
Honestly, one f-ing bite. One. That’s all I wanted. And it took 60 minutes and tears and timeouts. But I had to do it. I can’t give up. I still have to set goals for him. They may be small but they still need to be there.
I eventually got the one bite down Cooper and off we went to play outside.
I know it’s not his fault. And I’m not mad because I think it’s his fault. I’m mad because it’s so unbelievably hard. And nothing is ever easy. And I’m not the perfect patient mother. And between Jamie and I, one of us ALWAYS has to be on. And that’s exhausting.