Sunday, August 23, 2009
Okay so I can't cook, what of it?
Before I was married, I would sometimes try to impress my boyfriends by ordering in and then pretending I cooked the perfect meal. I had read somewhere that a way to a man's heart is his stomach. I thought that was really lame, but I worked my ass off picking up those dinners from high-end restaurants. After I got married, all that went out the window. I have two specials. Pasta with red sauce and pasta with red sauce including meatballs from Trader Joes. Any idiot can microwave vegetables, so that is always the side dish. Occasionally I will break down and bake cookies, which I might add, I do really well. Even if I am the one that eats them all.
My son, now away in college, caught on pretty quick since so many of my pots and pans were always in the trash because I would forget I had something going on in the kitchen. So, he quickly adapted to ordering in. And eating out. He also has a great appreciation for good food. If there is a great meal, say across the street, he will be there.
The girls, at 6, have also now caught on. They also love to eat out, but in these hard times, I've had to pull back and buy some hot dogs. They like sushi, Lawreys, Ruth's Steak House, etc. Exactly like big bro. So I really tried one night to cook. I baked a chicken, which came out perfect, but NO ONE ate it. They requested a hot dog. And I know kids need their vegetables, fresh. So, this is what I ended up with. I think the girls thought it was an art installation. My husband will eat anything, so he actually took what you see and threw it in a pot and out came some kind of soup that suddenly the girls couldn't wait to eat. Because DADDY made it. In fact, it's all they talked about, when will the soup be ready, I can't wait to tell Alexis about the soup, why can't you make us dinner every night dad. Mom doesn't know how to cook anything. Ever. That's good.
This recession is killing me. My blonde hair is looking brownish for some reason and my plump face is dry and my lawn looks like total white trash, and I am often forced to tell people my gardener took his life because he couldn't feed his 12 kids. I have one thing going for me here however, I love to clean. Actually, I'm not sure I am cleaning, but I love to be on my hands and needs scrubbing stuff. Maniacally. I cleaned the bathroom floor five times. The rest of the house now has to wait, but the damn bathroom is spotless...for today.