Why Do I Bother?

Here's tonight's dinner event:

Ethan, eagerly awaiting dinner, standing behind his chair... "What's for dinner? What's for dinner?"
I place a casserole-type thing in the middle of the table. Something I found on the Campbell's soup website in an effort to (shock!) cook for once. Nothing crazy or weird: stuffing, cheese, veggies, chicken. You'd have thought that I served him cow pies. The scrunched-up face, the disheartening look that he'd rather starve that eat that thing on the table.

"I'm not hungry," Ethan exclaims, and as he walks away I order "don't tell me you want something later, because you're not getting it!" (so there.)

Evelyn sits down. I have to credit her with her asuteness that Ethan's approach didn't go over well. She's smart enough to try a different one. "Mom, can I please have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? (smiling) To go with this, to go with this."

Alex, sensing an opening, "can I have one too, Mom?"

*************dramatic pause whilst I gather my strength for my oncoming outburst**********

"WHY DO I BOTHER? WHY? I SPEND AN HOUR TRYING TO FEED YOU KIDS AND THIS IS WHAT I GET? FINE! FINE!" (as I dramatically sweep everybody's plate, including my own, and the casserol-y thing on the table and throw everything into the sink.)

Alex, in his so-sensitive-way, starts to cry. He can tell my feelings are hurt and says through tears, "that was good too." Oh, buddy, you are the sweetest. (But I can't really stop now, I'm kind of on a roll.)

"ALEX, DON'T BE UPSET- IT'S NOT YOU, REALLY. REALLY, IT'S NOT YOU. IT'S MY OWN FAULT. I SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO TRY TO MAKE ANYTHING RESEMBLING A REGULAR DINNER AROUND HERE. REALLY, IT'S MY OWN FAULT."

And I proceed to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all around. Alex asks for banana on his and in a show of consideration, I don't outright refuse but actually slice banana onto his. I cannot help but add as I hand him the sandwich, "if you cry because the banana is sliding out of that sandwich, I will FREAK OUT." It was all Alex could do to not cry into his dinner since that banana was totally slipping out.

But as it turned out, the dinner was cathartic for everybody. They were cheery and talkative over their sandwiches, Alex nicely asked for yogurt and they all got yogurts. We discussed how we would all vote for the Biggest Loser Finale. It was an okay dinner. And that casserol-y thing was really not good anyway.

Really. What was I thinking.
I'm thinking I better just stick to the grilled cheeses and tomato soup dinners. Really.

(And thank you, thank you, thank you, Sandy for bringing Indian Meals on Wheels tonight since I didn't eat that casserol-y thing either. It was kind of yucky.)