Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Quit Saving The Drama For Your Mama

We have a huge problem with apathy around the Mansion. I'm not even sure the dwellers care what apathy is.

Last night, I was in a hurry to make something quick for supper, having toiled from 7:30 to 4:30 at Newmentia. My larder was limited to frozen items. I had no desire to stir a pot or shake a skillet or twiddle my thumbs while the oven worked its slow magic. So I seized on a brand-spanking new bag of Tyson All Natural White Meat Chicken Chunks. Or as we call them around here: chicken nuggets. Any way you slice it, it's chicken. Tyson chicken.

Don't ask about the years I spent two weekends, fall and spring, loading chickens into cages and loading the cages onto semi trucks for hauling to a Tyson factory, as a fundraiser at Cuba, Missouri. You'll never eat another nugget. But my kids have not had this experience. Nor has Chicken H. So I figured some chicken that cooks in eight minutes, some salad, and a choice of red grapes, cantaloupe, Gala or Golden Delicious apples, or strawberries, would make a fast meal.

Au contraire. The food itself was the least of my worries. Have you ever tried asking three guys to make a decision? Separately. In a timely manner? It goes a little something like this:

How many chicken nuggets do you want?

#1-I don't know. Whatever.
You need to tell me, so I'll know how many to cook.
I don't know. How big are they? What's a serving?
Five. Five is a serving.
I'll have eight or ten.

The Pony-I don't know.
I need to put them in the oven. How many.
I'm going out to gather eggs.
How many nuggets do you want?
I don't KNOW!
Don't get horsey with me! How many.
Just pick a number. And you're done.

Farmer H-Whatever.
I kind of need to know, so I make enough.
I don't know how many.
How many will you eat?
Forget it! Eight! I give up! Don't make anything for me. I'll find something!

How dare I ask how much food to prepare! You'd think I asked them to donate a testicle to Lance Armstrong. It's not like they were expected to have a hand in the preparation. All they had to do was predict how many chicken nuggets they wanted to consume. Criminy! Why don't I just buy a truckload of nuggets and cook them all up and pour them out in a trough and let the dudes feed? That's a rhetorical question. No need to answer in the comments.

For the record, all prepared nuggets were consumed.


Mommy Needs a Xanax said...

I guess no one dared ask for seconds.

Charlie requested nuggets today, so I cooked the last 3 frozen nuggets left in the bag. When they were ready, he had lost interest-- until I fed one to the dog, then he became angry that there were only 2. Hey, the dog was more grateful!!!

knancy said...

Did the salad and fruit get touched by anyone other than you?

Hillbilly Mom said...

That is OH SO TRUE. I would have been the Chicken Nugget Nazi: "No nuggets for YOU!"

For the record,

#1 had a salad of lettuce, shredded cheddar, two tiny tomatoes, and Ranch Dressing

Farmer H had a salad of lettuce, a tiny bit of shredded cheddar, diced onion, cherry tomatoes, and Light Ranch.

HM had a salad of lettuce, shredded cheddar, cherry tomatoes, diced onion, sunflower seeds, crouton crumbs, and Light Ranch.

Because nobody can ever have the same freakin' thing at even one meal.

The Pony had red grapes.

#1 had strawberries dipped in sugar.

Farmer H had strawberries with NO sugar.

HM had cantaloupe.

Aren't you tired just reading about it?