According to Robyn and Meri Brown of TLC’s Sister Wives, polygamy is one big girl party. “It’s all about the girl,” Wife number 2 or 5 says and I’m beginning to believe her.
I have been really stressing out and driving myself crazy this week because it dawned on me that for the past month the three kiddos have eaten hot dogs or grilled cheese for dinner every night. I really am not exaggerating. Well, there probably was one or two nights of canned ravioli or a peanut butter sandwich in there, too. So it’s clear to everyone involved that dinner is a real disaster around here.
For one reason, I am not an inspired cook. I need to follow a recipe exactly as it is written. I have no idea how to add a dash of this or that. I absolutely cannot dip my spoon in the soup, smack my lips and know to add coriander, tumeric or even just plain salt.
Secondly, I don’t really care what I eat. Don’t get me wrong, I love a night out at a fancy restaurant as much as the next girl. But at home, after work, a can of spaghettios and white toast is a-ok by me.
Third, my boys don’t like anything. Well, they do like hot dogs. I’ve already established that.
So not too long ago, I combed recipes, made a list and gave it to my husband for the shopping trip.
Yes, the husband grocery shops. In fact, I’m “not allowed” to grocery shop because according to the husband I buy too many expensive things that don’t actually add up to any sort of meal. (I’m not going to divulge all the crapola my husband comes home with because that is a conversation for another time. Suffice it to say we currently have 27 boxes of cereal, 12 boxes of crackers and 9 boxes of granola bars in the cupboard.)
Then, recipe pulled up on the iPad, ingredients on the counter, I set out to make two casseroles to help us start out the week. The first one consisted of ground turkey, tomato puree, some other stuff and was topped with Pillsbury Grands (biscuits for you deprived folks out there). Does it sound good? Does it even sound edible? It wasn’t either. I tried to give it to my oldest by passing it off as a “sloppy joe.” He said, “this sloppy joe is awful. It makes me cough.” One pound of ground turkey literally down the drain. Well, not literally. My husband, being a trooper and all that, peeled off the biscuits, doused the turkey in salsa and ate it over rice. Two bowls full. I hope to God he doesn’t get sick. I’ve got a busy week.
The second dish was a homemade baked macaroni and cheese. I even made roux though I still have no idea what that actually is. And it turned out delicious if I do say so myself. But you can’t convince my boys of that. It had bread crumbs on top and didn’t come out of a box. Therefore, it was not macaroni and cheese. And it made the middle guy cry.
So, I come to the very obvious conclusion that I need a sister wife who cooks. I”m not allowed to grocery shop. I hate touching raw meat. I have zero instincts and I try recipes for “Upside Down Turkey Casserole” truly believing some one will eat it. What more evidence do you need? Wife #2 could whip up something for the communal table while I weed the garden or do the laundry. I don’t mind doing dishes. I’m even good at doing dishes.
And while I’m cleaning the kitchen, Wife #3 could run bath time.
Hey, this is beginning to sound like a party after all.
