Ok, every week I sit down and comb through all of the grocery store ads that come in the circulars in my mail box. I write out a list of groceries that we need for basic things (kids' lunches, breakfast, etc.) and then... the magic happens. That's when I get to do it. The 2 words that inspire ALL homemakers everywhere. "MEAL PLAN".
I saw you shudder. Don't lie.
I'm the same way. I think "WHY?! Why do we have to eat every single day?"
And then I realize that I have to do the shopping, and the prepping, and the cooking, and the cleaning. And I even though I am thoughtful and I post the weekly menu on a cute little "Menu" board on my refrigerator, I will still have to answer that dreaded question "What's for dinner?" a million times. Every. Night.
So, I feel your pain. It's ok.
This isn't a post about how to make your grocery list, or how to meal plan, or coupon, or anything like that. This is totally just a story to embrace the chaos that is life, to join together in solidarity, and to say that "it happens" to all of us.
Yesterday morning, I got up early (shocking, but true). I made coffee for DH and I, did my Bible study (see mom? I'm a good girl!), threw in a load of laundry, started the dishwasher, fed the chickens/rabbit/dogs, put dinner in the crock pot, and left for work on time. That was an entire days' work right there, all by 8 am. I was on top of the world. I even bragged about it to my coworker when I clocked in.
Which is probably why the rest of this story happened.
I came home after work and going to the gym, and smelled... something. It had to be dinner in the crock pot, but at the same time, I really didn't want it to be dinner in the crock pot. I can't even describe what it smelled like, but it was SUPPOSED to smell like a honey-soy-garlic chicken with carrots and green beans. That is NOT what I was detecting. I checked to make sure that nothing had scorched, and that everything was turned on and working well. Dang. It was.
I waited until DH got home, and as he was walking in the door he says "I'm starving!". He must not have been able to smell it. Maybe working in a truck with a bunch of stinky guys has its advantages afterall.
I did my best June Cleaver bit and brought him a lovely plate of the stinkiest thing I have ever cooked, and a cold glass of sweet tea. We always have sweet tea in the fridge. It's the house wine of the South. I reluctantly made myself a plate and sat down to eat dinner with my DH. He took a bite of the chicken. And then... he just... LOOKED at me. I can't describe the studious lack of emotion in his face, but I know it had to be deliberately blank. I took a bite. I LOOKED at him. He cut another piece of chicken off, and manfully swallowed. I think neither one of us knew for sure whether the other was enjoying the meal, and so we didn't want to spoil it if they were. As I'm mentally preparing myself to take another bite of this HORRENDOUS food, I finally just set my fork down and say "Please don't eat any more of this. This is disgusting. I am so sorry. I am not eating this. You don't have to either."
A huge sigh of relief from my husband as he sets his fork down and says "Oh thank God. That was terrible." The rush of guilt was quickly replaced with laughter when he adds "But I want credit. I was going to eat that whole thing." What a good man.
I cheerfully dumped the plates in the trashcan, and start rummaging around for what I can quickly make that will feed him and not keep him waiting forever. You know what I found? Pepperoni Lean Pockets. Thank goodness I had bought the big pack! Heated them up, then snuggled on the couch to watch an episode of Doctor Who, and the evening was saved thanks to Lean Pockets!
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