death and

Welp, I stayed up till midnight frantically doing my taxes, sifting through my files for receipts, forms, bank statements, etc, finally vindicated in my efforts to be organized and keep records.
Well, whadda ya know, for the first time in my life I actually owed Uncle Sam money. Only $27 but still. Gone are the days when I would get a fatty tax return. And why? I make like just barely over the amount you need to get earned income tax credit. Oh well. I will get some money back from federal, but not much.

I feel a lot better about paying taxes when the president isn't GW 'Big Government' Bush Jr.

In more domestic news, after several discussions and advice from A and V, and being tired of feeling like I have to serve pizza or burritos in order to have a peaceful dinner where my youngest actually eats the food and enjoys it, I exercised my 'mean parent' muscles today at dinner. We had a pathetically non-homemade 'i just got home from work and am tired and not cooking anything major' dinner of veggie hot dogs with black beans and cheese, and fettuchini alfredo with broccoli (frozen dinner) as sides. This may sound only vaguely nutritious but when you include the fresh fruit strawberry-banana-oj smoothie, well that balances it a little! Anyway (click on links above if you don't believe me) its not that bad. Just doesn't seem very '50's mom with apron slaving over a hot stove' -ish.

So at first I just gave J the hotdog and raw green beans, which oddly he likes, knowing he wouldn't want the black beans or fettuchini. Then I decided, what the hell, I can handle a little battle tonight, and what better time to start then now. So, I spooned a table-spoon size serving of black beans onto his plate. I figure start with something not too freaky, like not brussel sprouts or anything. I told him he has to eat the beans on his plate before he can get up, and this is not a request. First he started to get that 'deer in headlights' look, then he started to get a little whiny like, 'why are you being so mean?' and 'but i haaaate them!'

So, I told him, 'I don't want to talk about it, I just want you to eat them. You aren't leaving the table until you eat them and there's nothing else to talk about.'

Then I turned my attention away from him and initiated a discussion with C so it wouldn't turn into a big scene and into an attention thing.

Finally he asked, 'can I leave like, 2 or 3 beans on the plate?'
And, well being the kind, sweet, wonderful (pushover) that I am, I agreed.

And lo and behold, he ate them! Without some big scene with gagging and crying. hooray! Victory #1. I don't think this will be the end of our problems, but perhaps the beginning of the understanding that I'm not completely soft like marshmallow fluff. But I am as sweet. :P

And, Victory #2 of the evening? getting J not to be afraid to catch the full sized football (he previously only wanted to use the smaller nurf foam ball, and would get out of the path of the ball if you threw him the real one.) Yay again!

Well, I realize this may be a boring topic for a blog, so I'll finish with a question- Did your parents make you 'finish everything on your plate' or did they accommodate your pickiness? Did you have to gaggingly choke down liver and onions, long after they were cold, so that you could finally leave the table? Or did your parents buy you McDonalds on the way to the chinese restaurant because you were scared to try lo mein? Did you agree with their methods...? Or were you scarred for life? Were you SCARRED for LIFE??