Monday, 11 February 2013

Kiss My Grits!!!!

The woman I aspired to be
When I was younger, I had an unhealthy obsession with being a waitress in a restaurant. So much so that I would save my allowance in order to purchase order pads from the local Thirsks store, and torment my parents with endless demands for what they would like for dinner. At the end of the day,  I would tally up everything they owed, and present them with a bill. Consistent failure to pay resulted in me spending more of my hard earned money towards the purchase of Duplicate Order forms. I still didn't get paid for the incredible service I was providing. Perhaps it was because after every order I would state "Kiss My Grits" just like Flo from the sitcom 'Alice'. Eventually I got tired of being stiffed grew up, and decided that a waitress life wasn't for me.

Flash forward 30 +a few years - apparently my children think I am a short order cook as well as a waitress, and not very good at either vocation. The other night I made a beautiful dinner (chicken, vegetables, rice, etc.) and my son complained that I never serve 'real food'.

Uncertain as to what 'real food' actually implies, he informed me that in his world, if the meal didn't contain hot dogs and mustard, then it was crap. While it is tempting to only serve hot dogs for the next couple of weeks, I can't bring myself to do it. I blame it on a weiner documentary I saw a couple years ago. Ugh. (Side note: Don't ever watch a weiner documentary . . . just, don't. It isn't pretty and you will be scarred for life.)

I can live with this constant berating of my food however. I think it is a phase - made particularly more difficult by the fact that my oldest son is could be classified as a very picky eater. Eventually he will grow out of it - or become hungry enough he will try something new. I hope. Yes, I can grin and bear it for a while longer.

What I struggle with is this (and please, please, PLEASE tell me I am not the only one) ... When I put on my waitress cap and pose the question to my husband "What would you like for dinner?", I am greeted with responses such as:

'Doesn't matter to me - whatever you want'
'I don't care - whatever you feel like cooking'
'I have no preference really'

and I'm all like HUH?

I sigh in exasperation. I stomp over to the freezer, open the door and stare at its contents, trying to determine what I could pull out that at least 75% of the family might eat. And mentally I don my beehive wig, unbutton my pink uniform a bit and conjuring up the best southern drawl I can manage, I bellow "KISS MY GRITS"!

The thing is this - I only cook because I have to. My bank account can't afford take out on a nightly basis, and frankly, neither can the seat of my jeans. So I have no choice but to spend the better part of my day trying to determine what to make for dinner. Will they eat fish? What will I cook to go with it? Didn't we just have spaghetti yesterday? What the h-e-double hockey sticks can you make with ground turkey?

So for you my darling husband and love of my life (because I know you are reading this), here is your homework:

(If this happens in your house as well, you may wish to consider doing the same ....)

1. Identify 3 meals that you enjoy eating (preferably ones that do not involve hot dogs).
2. Memorize them.
3. When I ask what you would like for dinner, tell me one of them.
4. Receive undying gratitude and devotion from your wife. Or at least not be told "Kiss My Grits".

And now, I'm off to search in my freezer for something to make for dinner tonight, because apparently popcorn doesn't quite cut it for nutritional value. If you don't hear from me for a while, I've probably caught a cold from standing in the cool air for so long and am sick in bed. Send gin. Thanks in advance for your thoughtfulness and caring.


  1. In my house I do a lot of the cooking. I can relate to how frustrating it is when kids are picky. I was never picky. I ate everything my parents put in front of me.

    So I gave up caring if anyone else wanted what I was cooking. I just cook what I like and eat it. If the kids dont eat, then they get it for breakfast.

    1. Oh my word - you are SO mean! LOL! Someday (I hope soon!) my kids will realize there's more to life than hot dogs and kraft dinner ;) Until then, I will continue on with my torturous ways ;)