Just in time for Father's Day...

I used to feel like a rock star when I would put together a really good meal for a dinner party – with Peter’s help, and with no other tasks to complete simultaneously. I’m still proud, of course, of some of those feasts: Indian chicken, sweet basmati rice, cucumber-mint raita, homemade chutney, homemade naan. Man, I love Indian food!

Now, however, I feel really cool when I get a meal on the table at 6 pm for us 6 eaters: without being grouchy about it, and without the kitchen being a total wreck; without putting the kids in front of the TV to accomplish it; while simultaneously supervising homework and wild outdoor play and a toddler who is a major flight risk if she’s not locked in the backyard (where, however, she just learned to climb the ramp to the swing set and slide down – much too quickly – on her stomach on the slide). I feel even cooler if the meal includes at least one part that everyone likes (of course, it is likely not the same part), and has interesting adult flavors, and doesn’t require the presence of the ketchup and mustard bottles on the table, and maybe even uses up some leftover, and didn’t require a special trip to the store, or at least is made with food that I got on sale.

Marinated chicken tenders that were on sale (on the grill – no hot kitchen!) with make ahead coconut/peanut butter satay sauce (on the side, of course), plain rice, & cucumbers was such a meal the other day: Thai flavors for me and Peter, but still fairly tame for the kids.

Anyway, I was just thinking about how my mom did this every day for years and years and years, with less spousal help than I get, and more children, and a business phone ringing (with the long cord – reached all the way to the basement, not that I ever pulled it all the way down there to make prank calls with Judy or anything). Plus she couldn’t just thrown money at a problem, like I can (“Take out tonight!” I say occasionally, crying uncle), and she cleaned her own house, and she gardened, and she really never did blow her top and yell at us to quit whining at her. Or at least I don’t remember her doing that. I don’t know how she did it, but I am really grateful to her for doing it. I know it can be done, so it keeps me trying.

Happy belated Mother’s Day, Mom!