Those of you who know me here, know this,
I am not a fan of cooking meals. And by not a fan ... what I really mean is ... I don't apply myself. I have cookbooks that gather dust. I make the same four or five dishes each week. At 41 years old, I burn things, like soup and grill cheese. I cook on high no matter how many times I am reminded that there are better settings on the dial (like low for instance). I don't listen. Its like I deliberately sabotage it with too much salt. Or, (gasp) I forget the salt altogether.
No kidding. I am that bad.
So today. I decided I would be like every other member of this house. I would do whatever I felt like doing when I got home. I didn't come home and immediately clear of the table and counters to prepare food and set the table.
Instead I sat down and read my book. I watched TV with my youngest. I took the kids for haircuts.
It's now 7:47 PM and my children are complaining they are hungry. I laugh.
You know because I'm mean like that.
My two oldest children have decided that they, "together", will make spaghetti dinner. And could I just shout out the directions for them?
Before I agree to do this, I tell them, in no uncertain terms will I be doing the dishes. They both nod their heads and agree to take care of it.
I'm excited ... and proud ....
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