The Last Supper

21 09 2007

Well that was a whinefest yesterday, huh? Ugh. Sorry you had to witness that. I’m feeling muuuch better today. I think it helped, all that whining. It was cleansing. Spending almost the entire day on the couch not only let me rest my back, but also allowed me to see that contrary to my once firm beliefs, life in our household can still go on without me. I tend to be of the mindset that if I don’t do something myself, it not only won’t get done, but it won’t get done the Right Way. And really, if you’re not going to cut Ethan’s sandwich into 4 triangles, is there even any point in feeding him?

But amazingly, even though Jeff cut the sandwich into just two big triangles (aka, the Wrong Way), Ethan still ate it. Sure, he got unnecessarily messy (smaller triangles fit into smaller mouths more efficiently, creating less mess; just a tip for future lunches, Jeff). But Jeff took care of it. Disproving my theory that unless things are done my way then our lives will be plummeted into chaos, two-triangled sandwiches being the least of our problems (everyone knows there are bigger problems out there, like towels that aren’t folded the right way and Tupperware that’s been put back in the wrong cupboard).

In an effort to not overdo it, to relax and take it easy, I’ve realized that I need to let go of some of these slightly neurotic little things, and let Jeff help out more, even if that means (deep breath, Caley, it will all be okay…) allowing him to do the laundry. I can’t be the President of Everything, as I like to think I was just a few short months ago.

And in keeping with this new regime, I have decided to implement a huge change at Chez Adams. When I first mentioned it to a friend, I had only been half-joking. But the more I thought about it, the better it sounded, and today I informed Jeff that on Sunday I’d be cooking some honey-glazed pork for dinner, and that he’d better enjoy it, because it’s going to be the last time I cook dinner for about 3 months. I’m calling it the Last Supper (because I am just oh-so-clever).

I can no longer stand over the stove stirring pots of potato soup, or at the counter cutting up chicken or vegetables, for thirty minutes to an hour or more. It just plain hurts. My back can’t take it, and it puts me in an awful mood. So, I’m just not going to do it. The end. Jeff has two hands; he can cook. Or learn to. Besides, I actually really like sandwiches. I’m not sure how exactly yet, but we’ll manage. That or we’ll go broke eating out for the next 86 nights. But I can deal with broke, because that means no groceries, which pretty much guarantees that I won’t have to cook.



4 responses

21 09 2007

This was so funny. I love the part about if his sandwich isn’t in four triangles, what’s the point in feeding him at all?

21 09 2007

But, I am the President of everything and the world will end if I can’t do stuff, won’t it?

Glad you’re resting and have decided to cut yourself some slack. Cooking a kid is hard work; you deserve no other forms of cooking!

24 09 2007
Meg is my hero « Sublime Bedlam

[…] 24, 2007 Meg is my hero Posted by Caley under Food , Odes , Pregnancy   The Last Supper was a success. In addition to honey glazed pork, mashed red potatoes, green beans with roasted […]

19 05 2008
“Crafty” is her middle name « Sublime Bedlam

[…] there was that ONE time… but it was the Last Supper! And it was named as such because I was enormously pregnant and had such awful back pain that I […]

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