“I promise my cooking will get better, I just don’t know when.” I sheepishly told my husband on week three of being unemployed. Unfortunately for me, my poor dinner skills are no longer protected by my income because I don’t have any. The law firm I’d been working at for the past 5+ years recently closed its doors and without a job to go to each day, I’m faced with the most unnatural and challenging work: domestication.
It’s not a total calamity. I mean, I can bake and I’ve mastered a handful of meals, however, cookies for dinner wont cut it and it ain’t exactly chili season. Still, there’s a foundation to build upon if I ever felt like it...aka I don’t like this game.
You see, I’ve worked fulltime hours the entire duration of my young adult life, always bustling past laundry and dirty dishes while performing the livable minimum with justified neglect. “I’m too busy,” or “I’m exhausted,” I’d mutter to myself instead of tending to the home. However, now that I don’t have professional obligations, I’ve learned that the truth is I’m too lazy, uninterested, and disenchanted with all things house. In fact, I’m a goddamn slob who will starve happily if it means not having to make a sandwich. Yet here I am, navigating through grocery store aisles that DON’T contain chips, buying extra virgin olive oil like it’s going to fix all my problems. Newsflash: It wont. (Though MSG might.)
I take comfort in knowing that I can’t possibly be the only vagina in the world that struggles with performing her outdated gender role. Tuesday night’s teriyuki that should’ve been teriyaki does not define me as a woman, it’s just another example of how down my family is to risk their life on my cooking and how crazy it is to assume that kitchen skills come naturally. When I made the decision to dedicate myself to writing as a stay at home mom, opposed to securing another legal job, my first thought was, “Oh my god, my husband is going to expect me to cook.” ...I hope we survive.
But I can do this, right? With a dash of motivation and great deal of effort, I can learn. It’s not like I’m an idiot, I’m just super content with cereal and hoping I can keep my family belly-full until my writing career affords us a personal chef. So if after all these years I haven’t once invited you over for dinner, now you understand, and you're welcome.
|These two guys are the REAL MVPs|