Oopsy

“I broke another appliance today.”

 

This has become a common refrain at our house lately. I am not sure why, things just keep breaking in the kitchen.

 

We have been married for ten years now and like many couples that went for the big wedding, we received a number of small appliances as gifts. They are all about the same age and, as it appears, have similar life spans.

 

Some of this wanton destruction can be chalked up to clumsiness; little pieces of plastic from a food processor can break off easily if you drop it on the floor. Some of it is just wear and tear; I take no responsibility for rusting out the blender’s blade attachment, unless you consider “instruction reading” to be a responsibility. I mean really, who makes anything that is not dishwasher-safe in this day and age?

 

Perhaps it is my sub-conscience railing against my relatively newfound place in the kitchen. Having always told my family, and anyone else who would listen, that I would never need to learn cooking because I was going to grow up rich and hire a chef. Somehow that plan never quite worked out though…

 

Perhaps we should just consider ourselves lucky. Had I learned to cook earlier, these appliances would have worn out sooner. By fighting this homemaking duty, I have effectively prolonged the life of our kitchen machinery.

 

Yeah, I think I’ll go with that.

 

Throwing in the (Tea)Towel

It is dinner time again and I give up. I have thrown in the white (tea)towel.

 

I have tried, I really have, but I just can’t do it. It is too much: the entrée, the side dishes, the right amount of vegetables, the nutritional value, having to substitute ingredients, how to get it all ready at the same time. It is just too much.

 

So I have decided to bring in reinforcements.

 

I booked an appointment at one of those meal preparation places. One evening next week I will go to their kitchen and assemble eight entrees for my family, following simple, mindless directions. I have further enlisted their help by ordering two pre-made side dishes. I know this is extravagant. I am a stay-at-home-mom, I am supposed to be doing this stuff myself.

 

Aren’t I?

 

These feelings of guilt are quickly brushed away by telling myself that I am simply displaying exemplary skills of delegation and prioritization. We all have skills and talents that we bring to our jobs. Mine just don’t happen to be in the kitchen. Oh, I can follow a recipe all right, but trying to find a different one each night is making me crazy. Then there are all those ingredients, making sure I have the correct ones is enough to put me right over the edge. And don’t even get me started on substitutions.

 

So I have conceded. My white (tea)towel is in the ring.