Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Failure as a Pseudo Housewife

I have a confession to make:

I did NOT make some fancy meal for Big A last night.
I know, I know. I'm a failure. In my defense though, the second I got in my car to drive home the sky opened up and a torrential downpour that would have made Noah shake in his books occurred. I thought about it as I drove by Stop & Shop...but decided...NAH!
I felt bad though. Here I was planning this delicious meal (that Big A knew nothing about) and now I felt guilty like I was depriving him of food. I went home and cooked this yummy Zesty Chicken Noodle Casserole that he loves instead. I chop up the onions and cut up the chicken, I cook them, boil the water and cook the pasta, and then get all set to start making the sauce...Pour oil into pan with flour and whisk, then mix with two cups of milk and Parmesan cheese...OK two cups milk...umm...uhhh...NO MILK!
So, I turn off the burners and the oven and run down to the store to get milk. Leaving Mr. Fresh to stare at me like, "What the hell are you doing?". I return and complete aforementioned sauce without any more trouble.
I mean c'mon...I'm too lazy to get out of the car when it's raining to go to the grocery store and I don't have any milk in the house (although it had stopped raining by the time I went to get the milk) what kind of house is this?
Big A constantly makes fun of me because I HAVE TO BE PERFECT ALL THE TIME. If it's something that I care about...everything needs to be just so or the apocalypse is coming. I made cheeseburgers on the grill that were...let's say...a little Cajun style and thought that I was the worst person in the entire world. I know what it's like to be starving and the food comes out crappy and it's just such a let down. I don't need to be the reason that happens to someone else. Especially Big A. He's a hardworking man, he needs his dinner. It also didn't help that when I burnt said cheeseburgers Big A goes:
"Are you alright? This really isn't you. Do you need to talk about something?"
Ya. That happened. Big A didn't mind the casserole. To be honest Big A will eat just about anything that you put in front of him. He is NOT a picky eater. Which make things easier for me since I totally am. I like what I like when I like it. That's it. My wonderful parents can attest to the fact that they would make a perfectly lovely meal and I would either complain because I didn't like it, or I would say I didn't like it (even though I had just eaten it last week and thought it was just delightful) because I wasn't in the mood for it.
I find myself struggling sometimes with this whole "House Wife" ("House Girlfriend"? I don't know what you would call it...how about "Domestic Goddess") thing. I work full-time. (It was even less attainable when I worked two jobs and hated life) When I get home, I don't want to clean, I don't want to wash dishes, and most of the time I don't want to cook. I hate going food shopping because there isn't anyone there to play with (I blame my mother...Hannaford's Karaoke and Toilet Paper Basketball ruined me for solo shopping) but can't bring Big A because our grocery bill will be a thousand dollars. To be honest sometimes it's just hard to balance it all. How do you work 40 hours (at least a week), keep the house clean so you aren't embarrassed when people come over, keep up on the dishes, cook dinner every night (because you can't afford to eat out every night), and go food shopping; all the while having a life and trying to relax? Throw a kid in there and I think I would go on strike. I admire those people who can juggle it all, because it seems I either go completely anal keeping everything together, or just slack off and everything is gross.
I guess maybe I need to just lay off myself. I mean no one else cares about this crap except for me. Big A is too wise to comment on my slacking when he doesn't do it at all and I'm sure Mr. Fresh doesn't mind as long as he has food, water, and the occasional treat. So pretty much all of this pressure comes from...ME...ya.
I'll have to work on that...I'm sure it will be a piece of cake...although it does make some great conversation for my blogs. If I didn't have my OCD and the need to do everything perfect then what would I write about? Life would be boring. There would be nothing to strive for...

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