It used to be “I love you.” My boys used to say those words all the time, every time they saw me. They would come and kiss me and lay their head on me and wrap their arms around me and whisper the words in my ear, and I would melt every time. Or maybe that’s just how my mind remembers those early years of parenthood.
Whatever. All I know is lately that used-most-often phrase that used to melt me has been replaced by another that melts me in a completely different way: I’m hungry.
The other day we were leaving for the annual family Christmas party a whole 4.5 hours away, which was already ratcheting up the anxiety, because who in their right mind likes to be shut up with six boys in a car for 4.5 hours (one way!)
When Husband and I woke that morning, we decided, in an effort to preserve the relative cleanliness of our kitchen for when we returned late that evening, to grab something at the store for breakfast. Sure, we could have gotten up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday to leave on time for a Christmas party 4.5 hours away so we could have fed them breakfast in our kitchen, but we also wanted to arrive alive. And, honestly, we’d stayed up too late the night before catching up on Game of Thrones. So it was in the interest of all that we slept an extra hour and a half.
Still, we were feeling a little testy, which is usually the hangover of not-enough-sleep. So after we’d explained to the boys that we were going to pick something up for breakfast at the store and strapped them all in and turned on The Red Badge of Courage, because we’re a nerdy family that enjoys audio books, and the firstborn called from the backseat, “Okay, I’m ready to eat now,” when we weren’t even out of our neighborhood yet, we looked at each other and tried hard to tamp down the crazy. Sometimes crazy can’t be tamped, unfortunately.
“Oh,” Husband said. “Oh, you’re ready to eat right now. Well, I’ll see if I can stop at this tree and get something.”
The 9-year-old looked out the window. “But I thought we were going to eat.” And then, when he realized we were still in the middle of nowhere, because it had been 48 seconds since we left the driveway, his panic infused an extra “But I’m hungry!” just to make sure we knew.
As if we’ve ever NOT fed them. But this doesn’t matter to children, because they don’t know how to look back on all that has come before. They only know RIGHT NOW, not the other three thousand three hundred seventeen days they’ve been alive, when we fed them three (mostly) balanced meals a day and even (bonus!) two snacks.
All this talking was distracting me from the story. “Should I turn the story off?” I said.
“No,” the 9-year-old said. “It’s just that I’m hungry.” This caused a maddening chorus of “Me too” all around.
“I’ll see if I can pull over this H-E-B truck up ahead,” Husband said. “Maybe they’ll give us a sandwich.”
I shot a warning look at Husband. “There are no stores around right this second,” I said. “We’re not going to be able to stop until we get to a store. But don’t worry. We are going to feed you.”
“But I’m hungry!” the twins whined from just behind our seats. Clearly my words were not clear enough.
“We’ll feed you as soon as we can,” I said. “As soon as we can. Ass soon as we can.” That’s not a typo. Sometimes, when the crazy comes calling, I take it out on words so I don’t have to word-wound my kids.
Husband looked at me and shook his head, smiling. The boys were quiet until we got to the store. And then, of course, their daddy was taking too long. He was never going to come out. They were never going to eat again. They were going to die of starvation, before he got back out of the store. I told them to count the cars in the parking lot, but that took all of three minutes, because no one else was out this early on a Saturday.
Finally, finally, finally, Husband came out and saved the day. I guess they were too busy stuffing their faces with blueberry bagel to say thank you.
My boys are always hungry. There are six of them, and they aren’t even teenagers, but they can inhale two dozen eggs in a single morning and punctuate the inhale with an “I’m still hungry.” They can eat five pounds of chicken and not bat an eye. Two of them sneaking into the freezer while I’m otherwise occupied cleaning up the last mess somebody “askidentally” made can eat a 12-ounce bag of frozen broccoli—frozen—and still go looking for more. The most opened door in my home is the refrigerator one. They’re always looking for something else to pass the eating time.
Well, there’s nothing left, because the schools are STILL ON CHRISTMAS BREAK. They have eaten me out of house and home. I can actually see what color my pantry shelves are now, because they’re empty. The only good thing about it is I gave the refrigerator its first scrub-cleaning the other day, because it was the barest it’s ever been. There’s nothing left in our freezer. I have no idea what we’re going to have for dinner tonight. Looks like popcorn, some chia seeds and…a handful of old edamame the boys won’t touch once it reaches “leftover” status.
Thank God school starts back up tomorrow. Oh, also, hey, teenage years: Stay far away, please.
