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| This was NOT my grilled cheese - but thanks to saucyculinarian.com for providing it |
Tonight I was left alone with the girls while Kenny took E to baseball practice. And for those who don't know the Ward set-up, Kenny cooks, I clean. I have this general phobia of meal planning. I'm not kidding when I say this, it is not a joke. When I am responsible for feeding my children, I get nervous, stomach churching nervous. I don't know what to cook; I don't know how to cook it. Believe me, I have tried. With a recipe even, I just can't get the timing right. And I feel very foolish admitting all of this, so be kind to me.
Some people just know. They can open up a fridge or a pantry, gather ten ingredients and thirty minutes later, wa-la, a meal is prepared. I am in no way saying that I would let my children starve, but this simple task becomes very hard for me unless I have spent the day thinking about what I will make, what I will need. When I am left with the charge: make dinner, and I actually accomplish it, I feel like I deserve a medal. But let me give you some perspective: the first time I took all 3 kids to the mall (ages infant, two and four) I also felt deserving of the highest honor.
I got home from taking the girls to dance class expecting the planned Taco Soup to be stirring on Low heat. Unfortunately, I got the text too late: "Didn't have time to make dinner. E and I are grabbing something on the way out." Ugh. I was already in the driveway so turning back to Subway was out of the question. So, I put on my big girl boots, or I guess an apron would be more accurate here, and got to work. The girls were adamant against Taco Soup so why make it for just one? With no other meat thawed, I got to work on the only thing I could think to do besides Ritz crackers and slices of cheese (my own personal Lunchable) and made grilled cheese. But I didn't stop there, I even pulled out a Ravioli can (which I used to love as a kid but completely grosses me out now), popped that top off, and heated it up. For myself, I heated up a hot potato and regretted not making that Taco Soup for one.
I called the girls in who were out in the front yard hopefully not talking to strangers, and proudly presented my meal. They weren't impressed. Sure they wolfed down the Ravioli but wouldn't touch the grilled cheese because the bread was weird. What? Oh well, I wouldn't call my meal-making a success, but I sure did clean the heck out of those dishes.
Part Two - Lanie:
After dinner, I sent a very Ravioli-stained Lanie to get ready for a shower while I did my infamous cleaning. I heard her yell as she ran upstairs, "I've got it. Don't come up here mom. I'll do it myself." Awesome. I figured she'd run around naked awhile and then finally I'd come upstairs and help her get started. This gave me ample time to finish the dishes. The door bell rang so I was outside talking to a neighbor and I hear, Mom! Mom! Mom! so after it's obvious my neighbor can hear the screaming, I excuse myself and run to see what could have gone wrong. Lanie has outdone herself. She started the water, a bit cold, she shampooed her hair, soaped her body, but she forgot one thing - closing the curtain. Water flooded the floor, the walls, my socks. But she was so, so happy with herself. I couldn't get mad. So I did what I do best - I cleaned up the mess. 
While I was cleaning up dishes, while Lanie was flooding the floors, this was Lydia left alone. Responsibly doing her reading homework, sitting on the kitchen floor, sipping on 7-UP.
When did this happen? When did they start growing up?
Except me, of course. I'm still twelve and learning how to make macaroni and cheese, but whatever. At least some people in our house are exceeding expectations.
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