The Menu At My House ~ Like It Or Lump It

I’m sure I’ve mentioned, at least a dozen times or so, that I don’t like to cook. Actually, I don’t cook—at all. If it weren’t for my husband: we’d starve. Well, that’s probably a bit of an exaggeration, because I do take-out when he’s not home and I have NO qualms about going out to eat— I LOVE going to restaurants. 

This past week my husband was on a screwy night-shift, so my sons and I fended for ourselves for dinner. It wasn’t THAT bad. I had cupcakes and hard boiled eggs Monday night and Tuesday evening my parents stopped down for my son’s Basketball game and took us out to dinner afterward.

 Wednesday evening after I picked Austin up from Basketball practice I asked him, “Did you eat dinner?”

He said, “No, dad wasn’t home.”

I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see that because it was dark in the vehicle. “Austin, you’re FOURTEEN not FOUR. When we get home, make some soup.”

I didn’t have a problem waiting on them hand and foot when they were little—but seriously…he’s fourteen now and can pop a can of soup in the microwave, slap some meat on two pieces of bread, or even throw a small pizza in the oven.

I might not like to cook, but I certainly know HOW and I DID pass that on to my boys so that they COULD fend for themselves and be independent. Hearing Austin’s answer, however, makes me think I didn’t do a bang up job.

This weekend, my husband was home and thankfully we’re back on schedule. He makes breakfast on the weekends, which is a nice treat because I don’t eat breakfast during the week. Heck, I barely eat lunch because it’s a pain in my ass to even slap meat on two slices of bread.

 This morning my husband showed me a small whole chicken and asked, “How’s this for dinner tonight?”

“Didn’t we just have that last weekend?” I wanted to slap myself as soon as I said it. I have NO right questioning WHAT he wants to cook even if it’s poop on a stick!

“No, that was two weeks ago. But hey, just feel free to order from the menu.”

“What’s that number?”

Austin being within ear shot of the conversation chimed in, “It’s one eight hundred screw you.” He’s his father’s son alright.

“How about like it or lump it,”  David said.

We all got a good laugh and I’m glad my husband isn’t touchy when I don’t have a filter on my mouth. 

Oh and we’re having green beans instead of corn. David said there’s a shortage on the latter. I was a bit upset because we haven’t had corn in like... ONE day!