Monday, September 01, 2008
When Open Concept Goes Bad
Seeing how we've never lived in a house built later than 1950, we have never had an open concept kitchen.
I have decided that open concept kitchens are "da bomb."
If the open concept kitchen was a female Olympic volleyball player, I'd slap the open concept kitchen on the rear and say, "Good job. You rock."
I love open concept kitchens because I can see the dining room, the kitchen and the living room at the same time. In this house we're renting, I can even see the back yard. Not only is this GREAT for entertaining, I'm also thrilled to say that my mom super power (omnivision) has increased in this house.
There is no getting away with anything here.
I love it.
The boys are walking around stunned.
No more confusing dialogs trying to figure out who the culprit was...who first stole the toy...who first raised their voice...who first initiated the battle.
I can be in the kitchen, they can be in the back yard and I immediately know who did it because - I saw them do it.
I love open concept kitchens for all those reasons so far.
I don't like the open concept kitchen for this reason...
I'm not sure if you know this or not, but Aaron and I have had to come to grips with the fact that we are raising Theodore the chipmunk.
That's Ashton's nick name in our house...
This child LOVES food.
He loves it in a borderline, unhealthy way.
Food is his love language.
If you want to see a child scream with delight...and I'm not exaggerating, just say this to him...
"Ashton...I made you a cake."
The kid will squeal and jump up and down, then say...
"Where is it? Can I see it? Can I have it now?"
Try it. It's fun.
Ashton's love of food gets him in trouble a lot.
If he isn't fed as soon as he thinks he should be...melt down.
He asks just about every hour on the hour for a snack.
If one of us is in the kitchen, he thinks we are there to feed him. When he finds out we have other reasons for being in the kitchen...there might be a melt down.
When he's bored...he asks if he can have a snack.
And what happens most is...
He annoys me when I'm cooking dinner.
As soon as the dinner process starts, he comes into the kitchen and asks for a detailed description of what we're eating for dinner.
I comply. That's fine.
Then, he says...
"Are you almost done mom? Now? Now? Are you almost done? Now? How bout now? How many minutes will it be? After you stir that, are you done?"
"You have to stop that," I say.
So then he says....
"My belly really hurts mom...it really hurts..."
At this point, I have always said....
"You need to go out of the kitchen and stay out of here until I get dinner made. You are not going to pester me the entire time I'm making dinner."
He always leaves the kitchen...problem solved.
Until we moved here.
The first night I made dinner, the usual events transpired.
I finally said...
"You need to leave the kitchen right now."
It was nice and quiet in my space.
And then I heard his small voice...not far from me say...
"But my belly is really, really hurting mom..."
I looked over the counter, and there he was...in the dining room...which, thanks to the open concept is still WAY too close to me.
"You have to leave the dining room too."
He walked out slowly...head down.
peace in the kitchen
And then, I saw a little head pop up from behind the couch...
"But mom...I just want to know how long it will be..."
Blast this open concept.
I interrupted my punkin and said...
"I'm sorry...but you're going to have to go play in your room until supper is ready."
I wouldn't even let him play outside.
I knew I would look up to find his face smashed, all pouty like up against the kitchen/dining room/living room window, or worse...find him looking into the window, eyes locked on mine, feeding himself dirt so I would feel sorry for him.