For Christmas, cook for 15 guests; no problem.
One week prior to Christmas, host a 5 - 7 for 13 neighbors; bring it on.
Having to roll a tuna wrap, cut a few slices of red pepper, and fetch a serving of apple sauce from the pantry? Exhausting!
I don't know why.
My day today:
• Feed my son, get him dressed, bring him to school. My daughter has pre-school in the morning on Mondays, so my responsibilities towards her are similar, only she begins thirty minutes later than my son, so the whole routine is staggered.
• Write this post.
• Shower, shave, and iron today's clothes (since I'm too lazy to hang them and fold them neatly in the first place).
• Head to Staples to pick up self-address labels.
• Attend a meeting downtown.
• Pick up something for supper (nothing too salty, my dad is coming over; he'll say something about the salt).
• Fetch my son at 2:20.
• Help my son with his homework while both kids demand snack (despite the fact that, since she takes two hours to finish a meal, The Girl will have probably just finished lunch) and listen to my daughter whine that I won't let her watch TV while The Boy does homework.
• Meet with the Hunter Douglas rep to discuss what compensation I probably won't get for incorrectly installed blinds.
• Make supper (I'm thinking roast chicken and sweet potato - though it rates fairly high on the clean-up scale, that's compensated for by easy prep, decent nutrition, and low salt) for the kids and my dad (my wife will be at the office).
• Clean up.
• Get the kids to bed.
• Clean up.
• and then.......make ONE lunch.
The part of the day I'm looking forward to least is making that %#^&* lunch.
What's with that?
I think a lot of it has to do with routine; like a smoker; like me with potato chips while watching television. There are certain moments which trigger relaxation, and the routine in those moments is important for a healthy human psyche.
For me, once the kitchen is clean from supper (something I generally try to do right after the meal while the kids have a dance party in the living room, or kill each other in the hallway, depends on the day), the house is tidied of the day's toy regurgitation, and the kids are in bed, I feel a wave of relaxation. Let MY time begin. I literally feel a physical sense of peace flow over me; my body recognizes the end of my duties towards other people.
Except for that %#^&* lunch.
Sometimes, I'll be so desperate to do nothing, I'll postpone lunch preparation until the following morning; big mistake. I've learned denying myself a slow coffee in the morning is worse than delaying the gratification of evening peace.
It never takes more than fifteen full minutes, generally, with clean up included. But, it goes against the wave of routine my body yearns for. The thousand-and-one decisions I make during the day carry less weight than ensuring at least three of the five food groups are packed into a plasti-vinyl lunch box: chop the fruit, chop a veggie, where are the darn Tupperware lids???, he didn't like last night's supper, should I sneak him leftovers anyway since I won’t be around to hear him complain?...he won't die of starvation, right? Where are the %#$% Tupperware lids?!?!?
Laughably, once I'm done, I'm always relieved by a) how little trouble it really was, and b) how glad I am I didn't leave it until morning.
When will I learn?
I suppose the feeling will gradually recede, like facing your fear of flying by travelling by plane as often as possible.
I'd better deal with it before September, however: my daughter starts kindergarten in September. That means two lunches instead of one. Maybe, like the mass production principle, the second lunch won't require as much effort as the first? Maybe, by then, I'll be less bothered by The Big Bad Lunch.
Come to think of it, my inability to accept the BBL (Big Bad Lunch) as part of my routine is very similar to my inability to get myself to sleep early, despite promising myself exactly that every time the alarm goes off in the morning...well, look at that...my next blog topic!
all i can is that your foods' making me drool! I wish I was your child. LOL. can you still carry that? Another mouth to feed and take care of. But kidding aside, its very hard for mothers like you to do all the work of housekeeping and sending and fetching your kids to school. Mothers are really the overworked workers in the world.
Posted by: manuscript editing services | Oct 22, 2012 at 01:13 AM
I'm a father, not a mother. But I appreciate the sentiment. Thanks for reading!
Posted by: Kenny Bodanis | Oct 22, 2012 at 12:09 PM