|The woman I aspired to be|
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
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.