|Clipart from www.freeclipartnow.com|
"What's For Dinner?" More horrifying words have not been spoken and I've decided they are banned from being used in our home.
If there's one thing that probably stresses me out more than anything else, it's trying to figure out what to freakin' have for dinner. Hubby asks me this every day and every day I say, "I don't know". (Sometimes while laughing hysterically) Thankfully I wasn't born in the 1950s when dinner was expected to be on the table when the man of the house came home from work, 'cuz it ain't happening 'round here.
This has become such a dilemma for me and it hounds me each and every day, so much so that I'm paralyzed by the not knowing and so I've kind of given up, handed in my notice; I am waving my white flag. Basically I'm done. Dinner, you win. I hope you're happy.
There are three reasons behind this major frustration of mine:
- I'm a vegetarian (and not a very good one)
- Hubby is from Scotland so it's pretty much meat and potatoes for him.
- I have young children.
You know how you're not supposed to be a short-order cook for your kids? Well...um...even before we had kids Hubby and I were having two completely different meals. It was always: "What are you having for dinner? I don't know, what are you having for dinner?" Throwing Big T, who is beyond being a "picky eater", and Little K, who is just 2-1/2 (so not his fault), into the mix and it's just plain brutal. There have actually been nights when we have had 4 different meals on the table. (Don't say it...I know it's crazy)
I actually have a fantasy. No, it's not lounging on a sandy beach in the Caribbean with hunky men seeing to my every need...hmmm....no, not that.
It's cooking one delicious, healthy meal at dinnertime for my family. They'd be sitting at the dinner table, huge smiles on their faces, eagerly awaiting my fantastic meal, mouths watering, anticipation...(hey, much like the above clipart). There is no ketchup involved and every delicious morsel disappears without complaint. Afterwards, cute 'lil elves would come and clean up, leaving my kitchen counters clear & sparkling clean.
Yeah, that's my fantasy.
Maybe I should've been a 50s housewife afterall. (They had elves back then, right?)