Dinnertime. It always starts the same: I look at the clock and realize, fuck! I better start cooking, it’s 6:00! And right about this time, Junior’s stomach starts to growl because I really should’ve had dinner ready BY 6:00. But my husband doesn’t get home until 7:00 and, as you well know, family dinners are the only thing that’s gonna keep my daughter off the stripper pole! So, 7:00 it is…
Around 6:15, I give my child a nutritious, but low-calorie snack. Something like blueberries and crackers—just enough to stave her off until dinner’s ready and we can sit down to a REAL meal. But children’s stomachs don’t work like ours. They want dinner, now. The concept of a light appetizer just doesn’t work with a damn two-year old. (I really, really wish it did.)
It’s at this point where I either master the delicate dance of cooking a reasonable meal and restrain myself against all odds from giving my child her 3rd Stoneyfield
Yo-Toddler Yogurt of the day; OR, I end up huddled, in dark corner, ordering a pizza as shards of dried play dough hit my face, and my daughter is somehow standing over me, laughing. My daughter loves to throw play dough at me while I cook, she really does. She’s also particularly fond of attaching herself to my thigh while I’m standing in front of a hot stove. And every once in while, she’ll poop on the floor somewhere to get my attention while I’m making dinner. Those are the BEST days.
Now, what does this have to do with what your husband is thinking? Cooking dinner under these types of circumstances would make anyone feel like they just ran a fucking marathon by the time dinner ends up on the table. And like marathon runners, what they look like at the end of the race ain’t too pretty. While you may think every dinner you manage to scrape together should earn you a trophy, this is what your husband’s really thinking:
- A cold chicken/feta/spinach sausage from Costco and macaroni ‘n cheese left in the microwave for me to heat up is not really an acceptable dinner
- I’m pretty sure that 3 carrot sticks and some sliced cucumbers do not count as a “side”
- Those Cornish hens you tried to make? They were undercooked, but I ate them anyway because you looked crazy! I did not sign up for this shit!
- Have you ever heard of any other type of meat besides chicken???
- I firmly believe you dirty every dish in the kitchen while you cook because you relish the thought of me doing dishes ALL NIGHT. Don’t you know the GAME is on, bitch!
