We went out to eat tonight. Not a big deal, we just went to the local chicken place, but you know what? It was nice. The people there made the food, brought it to the table, and when we were done eating I got up and walked away from the mess.
It was a lovely thing.
I’m not a cook. Can I cook? Sort of. My family eats three meals every day – they get well thought out and nutritious meals too. I am not however one of those Moms who spends hours pouring over cookbooks, I don’t equate feeding my family with loving them. I prepare meals because I have to. It’s a chore like making the bed or sweeping the floor. It’s better then cleaning the toilets but to me cooking is still a chore.
Here’s the drill: I decide what we will eat, go to the grocery store, buy the food, haul it home, and then I put the food away. When it’s time for a meal, I get the food out, prepare the meal, set the table, serve the food and then I listen to at least one person in my family COMPLAIN about what I’ve made. After the meal is finished I then clean up the food and the kitchen, start the dishwasher and put everything away. A few hours later I do it all again.
And you know what? I’m tired of it. I don’t want to do it any more.
Do I have a better idea? Not really.
But after about thirteen years of sorting out what this family will eat all the time I just wish someone else would worry about it for a change.
Maybe I’ll just take a day or two off. We all need to lose a little weight anyway. Besides, if they don’t have anything to eat at least my family will have something LEGITIMATE to complain about at dinner time tomorrow.