The Chef Is On Strike

Last night it was the broth. I forgot to add the bullion to the water. A fairly bland risotto resulted.

Tonight I mistook “apple cider” for “apple cider vinegar.” Oops. Thankfully no parsnips were rendered inedible by the mistake, but with two strikes against me in as many days, I’m contemplating going on strike myself.

Sounds kind of dreamy, going on strike. No stress over meals, no hot ovens to peak in, no frantically pulling a meal together only to have it rejected without even being tested. Ah, what a life.

Then again, shall we imagine, for a moment, what would happen if Mom actually went on strike?

Manchild, being the obedient, law-abiding citizen of the home that he is, knows that Mom is in charge of the food supply. Thus, it is not his business to think about what to eat or when. And thus, when hunger strikes, he’s a bit of a mess. Tears, yes. Tantrums, oh my. Irrationality, please help us! If ever we get to that point, we simply need to feed the beast. With anything we can to attract his attention. Like . . . lemonade.

Lemonade? Rock on.

Micah can feed himself, for course, but it isn’t a priority for him to do so. And so he’ll sit and work and work and work until his hands begin to shake and he’s feeling slightly faint. That’s when he knows it’s time for something quick. Like candy. Gotta get the blood sugar up, stat.

Candy? Rock on.

Squish would be fine. He’s a survivor. He knows where the cheese is. So, what’s the problem? Mom’s not making dinner? Who cares? We can have cheese.

Cheese? Rock on.

So . . . never mind. I am going on strike. Cheese, candy, and lemonade sounds like a great dinner.

Bring it on.

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1 Comment

  1. Cagesjamtoo (aka Sam)

    October 17th, 2012 at 10:56 pm

    Oh, the feeding of the masses. Right now my least favorite task of motherhood. It never stops. It takes up every ounce of my brain. It is the first things I think about when I wake. “What’s for breakfast and what do I pack for lunches?” Once everyone is out the door, then I need to eat. “Oh great, look at that mess to clean up!” :-/

    After dragging my feet about clean-up it is time for lunch. “Didn’t I already make lunch?!?” Once lunch is done, I really should be thinking about and preping dinner. I know it will make my evening run smoother. But often thinking is all I ever get done. 6:15 the text comes in, “on my way.” Ahhhhh, what am I making for dinner. I can’t cook now the kitchen is a mess, because I really didn’t get breakfast or lunch cleaned up. I cannot cook in a messy kitchen.

    Somehow I manage to throw something together. We eat and then it’s bedtime. Get everyone in bed and finally get the kitchen cleaned. I really should pack part of the kids lunches at night. It would make my morning run smoother. I’m too tired to think about food anymore. It will just get done in the morning.

    Wash, rinse, repeat!

    To make things even worse, I will have the kids ask me what is for the next meal before they have finished the one they are currently eating. Today I got asked what was going to be for lunch the next day while we were eating dinner. “I don’t know!!!!!”

    What would my family eat if I went on strike.
    Husband: bowl of cereal
    Girl age 12: something sweet
    Boy age 10: quesadilla
    Boy age 7: whatever leftovers were in the fridge before the strike
    Girl age 5: bread with way too much butter because she can’t spread it very well by herself
    Girl age 2: yogurt that she opened herself by biting through the foil cover and then sucking it out. We call her the yogurt vampire
    Boy age 1: puffs, yogurt bites, bread, or something else that he managed to get one of the big kids to get for him

    Long comment. This topic was like opening a can of worms.


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