A conversation occurred in my house recently. It was a conversation that unfortunately has happened on more occasions than I would care to remember or admit to. It has happened enough times that I should know better by now not to participate, and yet it still recurs on a much too frequent basis. This conversation has led to strife, arguments, yelling, and hurt feelings, but I still get sucked into it every time.
It never comes as a surprise. I can always see it coming, yet the knowledge of what is about to happen never changes the outcome. This conversations always starts the same way:
Somebody asks, what do you want for dinner?
Usually, we try to plan out the weekly meals during the weekend at the same time that we make our grocery list. We know what we need to buy because we have carefully orchestrated the evening meal for each night of the week. If we cook something new every night, on occasion, we end up with too many leftovers and food goes to waste. Because of this, we will often plan a gap day which is designed to be an opportunity to clean out the fridge.
We call this a “scrounging” night. It usually works out fine, but once in a while, when the stars do not align properly, a day will come along when we run out of both plans for meals and leftovers on the same night.
This is when the trouble begins. This is when the conversation starts that everyone in the house knows is about to lead to ruin. I’m sharing this recurring nightmare because I’m hoping we’re not alone in this. Perhaps our pain will bring some comfort to someone else.
Of course, it’s just as likely that my family is just a bunch of unorganized sociopaths and this experience is unique to us. I guess we’ll see.
Once it has been determined that we are hungry and there is no meal planned, I often get the ball rolling with the aforementioned question:
“What do you want for dinner?”
To which my wife will generally respond, “Anything. Just pick something.”
Seems innocuous enough, and yet with those two comments, the rest of the evening is destined to unfold as follows:
Me: “Are there any leftovers from dinner last night?”
Wife: “No, I took the last (fill in the blank) for my lunch today. Is there anything in the freezer?”
Me: “Nothing that will thaw out in time to eat before tomorrow.”
Wife: “What about that chicken we planned to cook this weekend. We could make it tonight.”
Me: “No. I didn’t really want to do that recipe tonight. There’s too much prep work and we wouldn’t be eating until ten o’clock. I’d rather fix something easy.”
Wife: “What about eggs?”
This is usually where the dialogue spills out into the rest of the family.
EM1: “What are we doing for dinner?”
Wife: “Dad might make some eggs.”
EM1: “I don’t want eggs. I fixed eggs for breakfast and don’t want to eat it twice in one day.”
Me: “Okay, then. What about going out to dinner?”
Wife, EM1, EM2: “I don’t want to go out. I’m tired. I already put on my pajamas. It’s cold and I don’t want to sit outside. Etc. Etc. Etc.”
Me: “How about fast food? Somebody could run out and pick something up and bring it back home.”
EM1: “Like what?”
This particular question is usually followed by a twenty-minute argument about what restaurants each of us doesn’t like as we slowly whittle down to the same two places we always go.
Me: “Okay. EM1, If I pay will you go pick up the food?”
EM1: “I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t feel well and don’t want to drive anywhere.”
Me: “How about you, EM2? Will you pick it up?”
EM2: “It’s dark outside and I’m not comfortable driving in the dark, yet.”
Me: “I don’t want to go either. Don’t we have hotdogs in the refrigerator?”
Wife: “We don’t have any buns.”
Me: “EM1, write down hotdog buns on the grocery list so we have them for next week.”
EM1: “Okay.” Then she doesn’t move off the couch.
Me: “Go write it down now, before you forget.”
EM1: “I’ll remember it.”
Me: “No, you won’t.”
EM1: “No, I won’t what?”
Me: “Remember to write it down.”
EM1: “Write down what?”
I won’t repeat what I normally say next as I march over to the refrigerator and add hotdog buns to our shopping list. Suffice to say I’m usually questioning my wife about the true parentage of my oldest child while my daughter stares at me from the couch, looking like the RCA dog confused by sounds coming out of a record player.
Me: “Great. We can have hotdogs next week. We still need something tonight. What do you guys want?”
Wife: “Anything. Just pick something.”
And thus, round two begins. Usually everything devolves into name calling over the next few minutes as we rehash exactly what we said in the earlier round. Occasionally, we even roll over into a round three which includes some very colorful language as we all realize that nobody is going to eat tonight.
While the argument itself might fluctuate slightly in the tone and words used, the end result is almost always exactly the same: two children eating dry ramen for dinner while mom and dad polish off half of a bottle of gin.
It’s a scene I’m not proud of, and I’m fortunate that both of my children are legal adults so Child Protective Services doesn’t have to get involved. Although, if they did show up, I would happily send them off with both EM1 and EM2 in tow. It might turn out to be a benefit to our whole family.
Maybe CPS could teach one of those useless kids how to cook.
.
.
.
Enjoying Deep Dark Thoughts? Follow me on Facebook so you don’t miss a post. Just go to my page and click the “Like” button to receive updates on my blog and other projects.
And you can follow me on Twitter @gallenwilbanks.