All the women in my family are Domestic Goddesses.
They love to cook, clean, organize, and they hum when they do all these things.
I only do these things because I have to. And I never hum when doing them.
My sister, Amelia Bedelia cooks almost every night. Home cooking from scratch. Fried, baked, yummy dishes. My mom makes the best pies with homemade crusts. My grandmother and aunt have their talents of cooking extravagant meals, have closets that hold labled color-coded boxes and never have to rummage through drawers looking for scissors. Even Erin keeps her house so clean, you can eat off her floor. I do good to prepare a skillet meal that you dump in the pan and stir and serve 10 minutes later.
So when Amy was here this past weekend, she and Rick were talking about cooking and she says, "If you go the stuff, I will make you chicken fried steak." Rick was absolutely giddy and immediately left to go the store. She prepared the delicacy and Rick ate until he was sick. Then he did the unthinkable.
He called Amy when she got home and asked her to send him the week's menu she would be preparing. He said, without using words, that I am failing in the Good Wife competition. So she called me to get his email and when she told me what it was for, I laughed. After I told her she was a jerk for being so domestic and making me look bad. Then I hung up and immediately felt like a big fat loser.
As I watched Rick listen to Amy and mom talk about food and the preparation of it, I saw his eyes glaze over and realized I suck as a homemaker. I have cheated him out of wonderfully cooked meals and organized closets. I have never greeted him with my pearls and A-line skirt and heels and I don't even own an apron. I don't have his smoking jacket draped over my arm and his pipe waiting, packed with his favorite tobacco. I am sure he would love it, if he smoked a pipe.
Because his schedule is so sporadic, he may be home at 6, but most of the time it's 7 or 8. So I have used that as an excuse to do the quick dinners that can be prepared in 30 minutes or less. Meals like spaghetti, tacos, and frozen lasagna. I CAN cook, I just would rather not. I am terrible. And now, because I saw the reaction from Rick, I have to do better.
I had put a roast in the crock pot before I left for work yesterday and once home, made mashed potatoes, and broccoli with velveeta cheese sauce. Baby steps, people. The tea was ready, the table set, and I even contemplated using candles, but I didn't want to set any unreachable precedents.
The kids emerged from their rooms, following like bloodhounds, the smell that had wafted up to them . They step into the kitchen and say, "Who is coming over?" Again, stabbed with the reality that I suck.
The roast was so tender that it fell apart and splashed it's greasy broth all over the new shirt I had just gotten on Saturday. I burned my hand on the cheese sauce for the broccoli. And my hand is still cramped from peeling and cutting the potatoes.
Man, this Domestic Goddess crap is hard.
Good thing I am good in bed.
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