Tonight was a perfect example of the absolute futility of cooking dinner for children. I know, kids need good nutrition to learn and grow and whatever, but why is cooking them a meal such a royal pain in the a**? It is because all they want to eat is pizza and they conspire against us so that is all we can provide. Case in point, Tuesday evening.
Husband was out of town for work, so of course I was exhausted because I stayed up way too late
watching Men of A Certain Age On Demand doing laundry and cleaning. So when it was getting close to dinner prep time and the Big Brothers were at Gwen’s watching Transformers 2: Revenge of the Overcomplicated Plot, I took the opportunity to lie on the bed with my eyes closed. When I looked at the clock, it was 5:20. I should probably make food for them to, you know, eat. Or something. It went something like this:
5:24 Entered kitchen, took family pack of chicken breasts out of the fridge and started looking for the marinade.
5:26 Interrupted by sounds of boys returning home with assorted friends asking multiple questions. Encouraged them to play outside and ultimately directed them to the basement.
5:30 Forgot what I was doing.
5:33 Began search for marinade again in the fridge. Not there.
5:35 Heard screaming from the basement, Pumpkin Pie had to be removed from the basement and sent to his room. There were many doors slammed.
5:39 Forgot that I was making dinner, updated my FB status wondering what I was having for dinner.
5:42 Remembered about the marinade. Looked in the fridge again where it WASN’T. Checked pantry.
5:44 Interrupted by child who needed batteries. Back to the pantry. Found batteries, but surprisingly, no marinade.
5:54 Realized that the chicken has been sitting out for 20 minutes. and I have 6 minutes until I had hoped to eat dinner.
6:00 Put chicken back in the fridge and ordered pizza.