You Mean It's Dinner Time Again?
By far, my worst time of day is dinner time. It is my most disorganized, chaotic, frantic self that comes out at this time. Every day it surprises me. What? It's 5:30?!!! How did that happen? What am I going to fix again?
Alexa's crying and fussing. Andrew's wanting to make art projects, go outside, anything that requires one eye on him and a gigantic mess. Doug is not home yet, working in the yard, making a mess on the kitchen table.
See the thing is this, it shouldn't be chaotic. I grocery shop according to a menu I plan. I plan a meal for every night, but . . . sometimes I get home later than I planned and I don't have time to fix the "extravagent" meal I had planned, or sometimes I realize I didn't buy all the ingredients I needed, or sometimes I am just not in the mood for what I planned, or sometimes everthing goes wrong.
Tonight for example: I suddenly realized it was 5:30. Doug was in the middle of trying to fix the lawnmower, he dashed off to Tractor Supply to get a necessary part. I started dinner- only to realize I was missing 2 key ingredients. Meanwhile, Alexa is terrorizing the kitchen. She has emptied the cabinet with all my rubbermaid containers and strewn them across the floor, and has moved on to the cabinet with the kitchen appliances in it and the drawer with my cooking spoons and utensils (Are you wondering why I haven't locked the cabinets shut? I have the cabinets with the breakables and chemicals locked up. While it's a nuisance, it keeps her happy and then I can fix dinner in moderate peace- sometimes, I just have to dodge plasticware. Consider it a form of exercise). After I called Doug to stop by the store and pick up the necessary ingredients, Alexa melts down. She's starving. So I decide I'll quick fix her and Andrew dinner and then Doug and I will eat later. So I fix some scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. While she's eating I put everything back in the cabinets, clean up the kitchen from lunch, and start prep work while I wait for Doug. Doug comes home, and I finish fixing dinner.
The point is every dinner is chaotic. Generally by the time I sit down to eat, I am a smidge out of sorts. And definitely not enjoying my food that I am eating at lightening speed. That's not the mood I want to be in while I sit down to eat with my family!
I wonder if I am trying too hard to fix a meal. Every night I intend to fix one. Granted it's not fabulous- sometimes it's spaghetti or ravioli with sauce from a jar. Sometimes it's breakfast. I have considered casseroles, but they tend to be full of things my family doesn't like and the ones my family will eat are pretty unhealthy. Plus . . . I don't actually like casseroles that much either. So then I think I'll do the whole fix a fairly big meat on Sunday (turkey breast, london broil, etc) and use that to prepare for the rest of the week, but inevitably we're not home on Sunday or I forget that plan or . . . something comes up. So there I am Monday . . . with nothing to fix. Which leads me to spaghetti sauce from a jar, which then causes me to be fraught with guilt over not fixing my family an organic, wholesome, nutrious meal. But then I remember that I ate a lot of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and peas and I am a fairly healthy person and I don't think my height was stunted, my intelligence lacking, my success at life at a minimum because of that meal, so then maybe Andrew and Alexa won't be completely ruined because on a Saturday in October I fed them scrambled eggs, toast (whole wheat- for real whole wheat not that pretend stuff) with all fruit jelly, and a side of fruit (albeit from a can- with light syrup) for dinner.
Alexa's crying and fussing. Andrew's wanting to make art projects, go outside, anything that requires one eye on him and a gigantic mess. Doug is not home yet, working in the yard, making a mess on the kitchen table.
See the thing is this, it shouldn't be chaotic. I grocery shop according to a menu I plan. I plan a meal for every night, but . . . sometimes I get home later than I planned and I don't have time to fix the "extravagent" meal I had planned, or sometimes I realize I didn't buy all the ingredients I needed, or sometimes I am just not in the mood for what I planned, or sometimes everthing goes wrong.
Tonight for example: I suddenly realized it was 5:30. Doug was in the middle of trying to fix the lawnmower, he dashed off to Tractor Supply to get a necessary part. I started dinner- only to realize I was missing 2 key ingredients. Meanwhile, Alexa is terrorizing the kitchen. She has emptied the cabinet with all my rubbermaid containers and strewn them across the floor, and has moved on to the cabinet with the kitchen appliances in it and the drawer with my cooking spoons and utensils (Are you wondering why I haven't locked the cabinets shut? I have the cabinets with the breakables and chemicals locked up. While it's a nuisance, it keeps her happy and then I can fix dinner in moderate peace- sometimes, I just have to dodge plasticware. Consider it a form of exercise). After I called Doug to stop by the store and pick up the necessary ingredients, Alexa melts down. She's starving. So I decide I'll quick fix her and Andrew dinner and then Doug and I will eat later. So I fix some scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. While she's eating I put everything back in the cabinets, clean up the kitchen from lunch, and start prep work while I wait for Doug. Doug comes home, and I finish fixing dinner.
The point is every dinner is chaotic. Generally by the time I sit down to eat, I am a smidge out of sorts. And definitely not enjoying my food that I am eating at lightening speed. That's not the mood I want to be in while I sit down to eat with my family!
I wonder if I am trying too hard to fix a meal. Every night I intend to fix one. Granted it's not fabulous- sometimes it's spaghetti or ravioli with sauce from a jar. Sometimes it's breakfast. I have considered casseroles, but they tend to be full of things my family doesn't like and the ones my family will eat are pretty unhealthy. Plus . . . I don't actually like casseroles that much either. So then I think I'll do the whole fix a fairly big meat on Sunday (turkey breast, london broil, etc) and use that to prepare for the rest of the week, but inevitably we're not home on Sunday or I forget that plan or . . . something comes up. So there I am Monday . . . with nothing to fix. Which leads me to spaghetti sauce from a jar, which then causes me to be fraught with guilt over not fixing my family an organic, wholesome, nutrious meal. But then I remember that I ate a lot of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and peas and I am a fairly healthy person and I don't think my height was stunted, my intelligence lacking, my success at life at a minimum because of that meal, so then maybe Andrew and Alexa won't be completely ruined because on a Saturday in October I fed them scrambled eggs, toast (whole wheat- for real whole wheat not that pretend stuff) with all fruit jelly, and a side of fruit (albeit from a can- with light syrup) for dinner.
Comments
Post a Comment