I've been thinking about dinner at our house.
It's a complicated affair, which too often does not result in anything Norman Rockwell-like. To wit:
- Hammerhead: Loves anything that used to have a mother. Hates cheese. Loves potatoes, will eat broccoli, otherwise hates vegetables, especially the reviled tomato. Is very annoyed by his brother.
- Hammerhead's brother: Loves cheese. Enjoys meat without skin or bones, cooked medium well. Hates anything that grew in the ground. Will not touch anything green, or anything that has touched anything green, or anything that has seeds or nuts or other suspicious texture in it. Is very annoyed by Hammerhead.
- Aunt Pillowhead: Loves everything, but is a vegetarian. At dinnertime, often experiences an end-of-day urge to teach Hammerhead and his brother a thing or two about life.
- Perfect Man: Adventurous eater and culinary grad, perfectionist and unfailing optimist who clings to the stubborn belief that if he cooks four separate delicious meals for us, his most beloved in the world, we will sit down together and have happy dinnertime harmony. (Lovingly prepared meal=domestic bliss.)
But the problem is, by the time he's shopped (fresh for every meal), chopped, cooked and served these four separate dinners, he is exhausted, cranky, and disappointed, either by the way something didn't turn out, or by someone's bad attitude. Or because he's called us to the table four times and we haven't come until the fifth time, because of skateboarding (Hammerhead), ESPN (Hammerhead's brother), or the mind-lubricating, limb-slowing combination of a glass of red wine and internet Scrabble (yours truly).
Aunt Pillowhead! you think. Why don't you cook dinner every now and again, and help out the poor guy? After all, he IS perfect. Doesn't he deserve a break?
I have tried this, but it doesn't work. Perfect Man is adamant that dinnertime is his territory, his contribution, his ritual. He doesn't even want help prepping, but for the occasional washing of the greens, because people get in the way.
And so he does it his way, which does work pretty well sometimes. But too often, we sit with a beautiful dinner, teens who quibble, a damn-it-I-need-to-be-heard!-stepmother, and a sad, quiet dad.
Something needs to be done. Is it family meeting time?
3 comments:
How about a challenge: each night Hammerhead and his brother are challenged to a contest:
a) best joke?
b) craziest true event they'd heard of?
or c) most ridiculous thing on TV?
Maybe something completely non-culinary like that will act like the pulled pork on a nacho platter--just different enough to give coherence to a meal.
Well now, that's a great idea! I'll give it a try and let you know how it goes!
Someday, in the distant future, the boys will remember that great cooking effort and conversation. And don't forget Raman Noodles...ready in 5 minutes! xo Kari
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