This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Forever Young

I spent the afternoon yesterday putting this week's menu together. It took me a bit because, well, I tend to over think things and meal planning is one of those that teeters between: get it done fast vs. review 20 recipes to come down to about seven. In fact, the recipes that I had originally outlined, and typed up for the week, were never used. I did a whole different one in about 15 minutes after it "all came to me".

So after feeling accomplished at getting my menu done, Tim looks at me and asks if I acknowledged the fact that my dad was visiting this week.

OH NO!!!

It's not that I can't accommodate for him, but a couple of other reasons.

One: my dad is a meat and potato kind of a guy. Traditionalist when it comes to food. I, on the other hand, enjoy lots of variations to the meat and potato meal. It may not be fancy but it also isn't traditional. And typically, my menu has less meat and more other-than-meat.

Two: my dad will forever think I cannot cook. I am still an awkward 15 year old in his eyes, with no sense of direction and not a cook. My mom is a fabulous cook. She's creative and can do anything scrumptious with any ingredient left in the house. Sadly, I didn't inherit this gene so I tend to be more discipline. This probably doesn't help my father in thinking that I am actually very capable.

Fortunately, I had a couple of items on the menu that are safe and I have a few other safe recipes that we have often that can substitute for the week.

But it reminds me of how my family views me STILL.

When we were visiting my relatives in London a few years ago, my one cousin continued to be astounded that I could do anything. I remember her questioning me when I was putting clothes in a dryer and I was thinking: what is she talking about? I know how to do laundry. I was confused at the time, but hindsight I think she just thought about me being 10 years old and incapable of doing any kind of housework.

There were other things like, "I can't believe you have kids" as if I would leave my children at home alone while I played hopscotch with my friends, or rode my bike for hours at a time, only to come home at dusk, expecting food to be on the table. Because, see above, I am not capable of cooking.

It tends to make me anxious when my mom or dad visit. I feel like they are always watching, assessing, then judging me. And while I typically could care less when others do that, it does seem to get to me coming from my parents.

I tend to take the safe road and have take-out or eat out. Then the fight for who pays for the check comes into play.

Actually, this is when I become 15 and say "let mom or dad pay for it" while Tim struggles to pay.

1 comment:

  1. Nothing like a visit from the folks to make you feel incompetent. My mom once told me that she observed that Grandpa Mulvany treated my dad the same way my dad treated me. So I felt a bit more sympathy toward my dad.