Yesterday, I made plans for dinner. Thought out plans.
“I know. I’ll make a big pot of stew. I’ll get beef and carrots and potatoes and a nice loaf of bread. I’ll fill that pot with stew, and then, Miriam can have some before her practice, and if my brother and his friend arrive home and haven’t eaten, they can have some, or I can have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. This will be great.”
Then I got home. Sighed as I looked at the state of my kitchen. I didn’t feel like cooking. But, I had a plan. I must follow it. So I tackled the kitchen, and got cooking. Beef, garlic, onions – into the pot. Added beef stock, seasonings. All smelled good. Moved it to the smaller burner, so it wouldn’t cook too fast. After a while, I told Sean to give it a stir, because at that point, I’d sort of went horizontal on to the couch, with a cozy blanket and Maura. Sean stirred the stew beef.
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly time to put in carrots and potatoes (as they cook faster than the beef, I put them in later.) I sighed. I was cozy with the blanket and didn’t want to get up, even though Maura was kicking and elbowing me with love.
Then I smelled it.
That couldn’t be possible. I put it on the small burner. I had Sean stir it. It can’t be burnt!
But it was. Because some fool woman had the small burner on high.
So Plan B went into action. Drop Mim off at practice, run to store, grab some breaded chicken things, some vegetables, fill gas tank, get Mim, go home, cook late dinner.
I did all that. My brother and his friend were back from their day out, and I was chatting with them when the buzzer went off. Collin yelled up “Dinner’s ready.” Great. I offered dinner to my brother and friend, and my brother was all gracious and “No, we’ll wait until your family eats.”
I said “Oh there’s enough, don’t worry.”
Apparently somewhere along the way, I took hallucinogenics, because I know my kids, their appetites, and what they do when dinner is announced. But I was still surprised when, upon entering the kitchen five minutes later, I saw that all of the chicken and most of the veggies were gone.
“There’s nothing left!” I cried out. Or something equivalent.
My brother, behind me, asked why I was surprised by this. I shouldn’t have been.
I looked at him and said “I’ve cooked two dinners today, and I haven’t gotten to eat either of them.”
He found this hilarious. And I tagged along to the pub with them to get food. Because I was NOT cooking a third meal after that.
But know this, my dear children. When you ask where things like your college funds and inheritances are, the answer will be that you ate them.