“What should we have for dinner tonight?” My mom would ask, hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the mountain of traffic ahead. I could tell by the way she said the word what in a long sing-song, “wha-at,” that she wasn’t really talking to me, but rather musing aloud to herself.
No matter. I had lots of ideas. “What about macaroni and cheese?” I’d almost always offer first.
She’d wrinkle her nose. Although she did sometimes serve it (mostly when my dad was coming home late), my mother clearly did not consider Kraft macaroni and cheese from a box “dinner.” A point on which we decidedly differed, since I’d be happy to eat it pretty much every night.
“Uhhm… What about pizzas? Yeah, we could make those mini English muffin pizzas that we made that one time! That would be good.” A helpful suggestion like this often would go without response. She’d put on her blinker to change lanes. Brake for more traffic. Wrinkle her brow.
“What about apricot chicken?” I’d venture.
“Not enough time,” my mom would mutter, reaching down to turn off the heat.
“Taco salad? Ham hock and beans? Spinach hamburger?”
My mom would let out a long sigh, “No.”
The limits of my twelve year-old culinary knowledge exhausted, I’d sit back and stare out the window, losing myself in the stream of news reports coming from the radio. By the time we’d turned into the tiny parking lot of the Santa Venetia Market, I could tell she’d made up her mind by the way she briskly threw the van into park and shoved her keys into her purse.
I have no idea how many dinners my mom has made for me in my lifetime. 5,000? 6,000? Let’s say 6,000. From where I stand now, as an adult, the only thing I can think of that could be more exhausting than making six thousand dinners is making six thousand decisions about what to make for those six thousand dinners… What can one say in response to such a remarkably heroic amount of effort? “Thank you” just seems inadequate. How about I say that I feel extraordinarily lucky to have had a mom who somehow found the energy to nourish me and my siblings with 6,000 (delicious! mostly nutritious!) dinners over nearly four decades. (And, yes, mom, I know now how lucky I am to have a mom who cared enough to not always make macaroni and cheese from a box every time I wanted!)
Nicole F. said:
The infamous question and daily struggle! What should we have for dinner? pervades all of our homes, and can seem to make or break an evening. I love how you told your story within your travel home, weaving the stressful aspect of driving through traffic, with the even more stressful dilemma of what to make for dinner.
Have a Great Week!
Christine Margocs (@cmargocs) said:
My daughter’s college president remarked that “Food is love.” The time and effort your mom put into your dinners shows that…what a wonderful memory to cherish!
elsie said:
Deciding what to have for dinner is such a chore. Most of the time I have an idea of what I’ll fix throughout the week, but that is only after spending the time planning it out. That’s why I love cruises. Someone else plans the meals, all I have to do is show up and choose one option.
Christy Rush-Levine said:
This is such a fun spin on the dreaded question I ask myself daily. I love the twist into your past to show appreciation through this dreaded decision.
jaclynfre said:
Beautiful!! The indecision. The suspense. I remember being offered graham crackers before dinner when I felt so empty I could just lie down until the food was ready . . . graham crackers never satisfy. But my mom’s Biscuit-inspired impossible hamburger pie or fried rice or my dad’s sausage, rice and corn dinners definitely did. These humble meals complete with lots of Norman Rockwell conversation about our day–truly–take on a new perspective in the context of 6000 dinners made. Wow!! Thanks for the reminder to be grateful!!
Eric Wiesen (@ewiesen) said:
What’s funny, reading this, is recalling some of the dinners we had growing up in the 1980s that seemed normal at that time, but that now, going through this with small kids today in 2013, I’d never really think to make. Fish sticks? Small, frozen bay scallops? White “bachwurst” sausages. Swanson TV Dinners with that bizarre mashed potato side dish. Kraft mac ‘n cheese though … that’s timeless.
luckygurl said:
Yeah, I’d still feel a little guilty about just serving up a big pot of Kraft Mac n Cheese as the family dinner, though! 😉
Jone said:
I so can relate. I think it’s worse with an empty nest at time because it can just lead to plain lazy cooking
luckygurl said:
Like cereal for dinner? 😉
Dana said:
I loved the conversation back and forth in this piece. I also could picture your mom’s reaction to the suggestions for dinner as well as her decisive moves with the keys once she had made a decision. Moms….amazing.