Let's get something straight: I love to cook. My mother loves to cook. Her mother loved to cook.
And I love food. All kinds of food.
Obviously, this order can be switched up. But then, Dinner, you go and throw some monkey wrench into my planning. For example, I make enough salsa to feed an army of Mexican banditos and guess what happens? The Reds go into extra innings and the Cap'n eats ALL OF IT after I go to sleep. Or notwithstanding the fact that my kids have loved the pesto/pasta thing about a trillion times, they decide they will not eat it because it is does not have red sauce. So there goes my plan. Awesome.
(Editor's Note: Weekends aren't part of the plan. Because on weekends, the Cap'n is home and he is usually very helpful. In that one of us is responsible for wrangling the Little Terror Suspects and one of us is responsible for dealing with Dinner. When its a more evenly matched fight, Dinner is less of a bully. And depending on how badly our kids are acting during the pre-dinner, low-blood-sugar, wheedling phase, its a toss up as to which job you want. - Lydia)
So when the plan gets shot to hell, I am then forced to be creative and improvise crap to eat at the last minute while my kids are losing their minds from hunger and are trying to raid the fridge and beg for snacks - that will ruin you, their Dinner - all while I am silently cursing the Cap'n for finishing the salsa and not telling me.
And let's not even talk about the nights when I am so frazzled and exhausted that if I tried to cook I would burn the house down. Where are you then, Dinner? Huh? Are you being nice and making things easy? No, of course not. You're making sure that's the day we run out of eggs. So I can't even "treat" them to breakfast for dinner. Thanks a lot.
Dinner, my old nemesis. Why do you make it so hard? Why do you put me through my paces every night only to have me end up hating every single thing in my repertoire? I recently wrote down every dinner I know how to cook. Its a long list and guess what? I hate everything on it. I am sick to death of all of it. So that means I have to learn to make new stuff and that means learning and thinking and if you haven't noticed, Dinner, I am getting dumber every damn day.
I blame you for turning them into little culinary ingrates, Dinner.
I think it might be time to officially add your name to the Enemies List. You and Randy the Laundry Fairy can continue to conspire against me. But why do you bother? I'm clearly outmatched in the ongoing domestic battlefield called My House. And some day - when you least expect it - I will figure you out and destroy your hold over me. I have managed to lower my family's expectations for everything else I do for them - so guess what's next? That's right - DINNER. Soon there will come a time when they'll be happy with a ham sandwich and when I cook a big meal, I will enjoy cooking again...
And then you will know defeat at the hands of Lydia.
Your nemesis, Lydia
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