Picture the scene! Mom stumbles in at 10:00 am. After a long shift, she’s wiped out. Trudging up the stairs, she narrowly avoids a collapse that would send her sliding to ground level with her chin thudding on each step.
Naturally, my pantry is full of caviar, smoked salmon, Moët and Chandon, and fragrant black truffles….Bwahahaha!
If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing I’d like to do…Is save every morning for a pancake breakfast (preferably about noon)! My Millennial co-workers are fond of saying, “Adulting is a thing”. Some of my friends dislike and/or don’t know how to cook. For them, “Cooking is a thing”. I like to cook, and I love to eat. I enjoy having silly conversations around the dinner table. However, life tends to intrude. Even those of us who enjoy puttering in the kitchen have crazy schedules, crazy days, and days we just don’t want to bother. Unless
Deep Pantry, Stockpiling, Prepping, or Just Expecting the Unexpected Our last semester of nursing school, Liam lost his job. I was working full time, but he was our primary breadwinner. We had four children, one mortgage, and not enough cash coming in. A surprise scholarship paid our mortgage and my wages paid our utilities, but there wasn’t enough to buy groceries. One of the kindest families we know sent much-appreciated food. Apart from their generous gift and a small amount of unemployment benefits, we ate almost entirely from our pantry. Don’t misunderstand. We like fresh fruit, vegetables, and milk. But
What is it they say about making assumptions? I have four children.–>When they were young, I was routinely asked if we were Catholic. I homeschool my children.–>I am often asked if we’re members of a Holiness Church. (This always amazes me, since I live in blue jeans and boots.) I am a Pediatric Intensive Care Nurse.–>I’m constantly asked if I was too scared or not bright enough to go to medical school. Oh, wait! Let me redo that first one, please! I have four children.–>I’m often asked if I know what causes pregnancy! That’s my favorite! True story: Years ago,
I have a confession to make. I am over 40 years old, and I can’t dress myself. No, I’m serious. I would love to be the woman who grabs an outfit on the fly and looks like an issue of Vogue. But, it isn’t going to happen. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t go out looking like a reject from “People of Walmart”. But, the only things that save me are my absolute awareness that I am bad at fashion and my willingness to plead for help.
Nothing But the Bare Facts! I’m sitting in a desk in tenth grade Science class without a stitch of clothing. Everyone is pointing and staring. All I want to do is run from the room and escape, but the knowledge that standing up will be a million times worse keeps me in my seat. My cheeks are hot, my face is flushed, and I don’t even want to think of all the parts that are blushing.