I don't know about you guys, but dinner time in my house can go one of two ways:
Scenario A: Husband is outside in the golden afternoon sunlight with our two beautiful, happy daughters. I gaze at them through the large windows into our back yard as I quietly saute vegetables, peaceful in my solitude and entertained by a podcast.
Scenario B: Husband is trying to keep Child B(aby) from throwing her milk cup on the ground for the eighteenth time while Child A screams at me that she wants a jelly sandwich, even though she asked for sausage, rice, and avocado, which is exactly what's on her plate.
I've recently been having a lot of Scenario B's in my house. I've deduced that it's a combination too much television and not enough outside time, but really I'm being too hard on myself and it's probably just that two tiny hungry monsters inhabit my house. Recently, Child A was throwing a particularly aggressive tantrum about dinner, and she was boycotting sitting at the dining room table. So, to pacify her, husband went and sat at the tiny art table in the kitchen with her. Child B(aby) remained in the high chair where I'd entrapped her while trying to make dinner, and I stood in front of the stove eating bites of my bag salad as I tried to do the dishes.
The realization that I now take most of my meals standing in the kitchen was a sad one. We usually sit down for dinner as a family, but I almost always eat lunch while standing in front of the kitchen counter getting various pouches, avocado, toast, fruit, olives, crackers, milk, juice, water, and cheese sticks for my tiny humans. A meal eaten in a hurry on your feet is not a meal you consciously enjoy. Sure, this works for my morning cup of coffee, but it's a sorry way to eat lunch and dinner. I think in order to survive this pandemic while still feeling like a self, I need to start sitting down for my meals, even if that means I'll be getting up ten times to retrieve cups, plates, additional forks, more fruit, olives, crackers.....well, you get the idea.