Here's one truth about motherhood: the ingratitude. You work your ass off to take care of everyone but yourself, make sure they are fed and clothed and well-rested and don't eat too much sugar or watch too much TV and you spend an hour or more making a healthy well-balanced dinner from scratch and they push it away and say "Yuck!" and "Stinky!" and laugh about it and don't understand when you leave the table in a huff. In fact, as you sit on the front porch contemplating all you do for no pay and little thanks, you just feel guilty for storming off and saying something guilt-ridden and emotionally manipulative hoping for an apology. You know that's far, far too much to ask from children too young to understand but you do it anyway because you are so upset you can't help it.
I guess they'll appreciate me when they're grown up. I guess it's too much to ask for them to at least eat without complaining. I know I did it to my mom over and over, I must have. All kids do. But it still sucks.