Cooking for the Kids

“I miss my kids, but I don’t miss cooking for them.” Stella pops a grape into her mouth.

“As soon as my kids got up in the morning, they wanted to know what was for dinner,” I say, signaling the waiter for some more hot water.

“I usually ended up cooking three different things.” Stella leans forward. “Someone wanted pizza and someone wanted spaghetti and someone wanted burgers—it was a nightmare.”

“I would have never done that!” I admit. “One meal was more than enough trouble!”

For a moment, I wonder if I was a Bad Mom. I usually served at least one thing everyone liked, but only cooked one meal. Did that add years to their therapy? If one had turned out to be the Unibomber, would it be because I didn’t cook spaghetti for one of them one night? Yikes!

“Now I don’t have to cook at all.” Stella claps her hands. “I love it!”

Then she turns bright red. “I don’t mean I’m glad Barry died.” She looks around as if the grief police are listening.

I assure her everyone knows she was devastated when Barry’s heart gave out last year.

We signal the waiter for the check and rise to go. We both carry doggie bags, which will serve as dinners we don’t have to cook.

How silly, I think, as I start my car. Cooking three meals each night—at least I had the good sense not to do that.

I remind myself to stop at the feed store on the way home to get that bison dog food that Pip prefers. I need to remember those sweet potato chew sticks he loves. And I need to dash into the grocery store to buy some chicken to spread on Oscar’s kibble. I’ll roast it with some rosemary. I’ll also need to cut up some cheese sticks to use as treats in agility class tomorrow.

While I’m at the store, I need to pick up some fresh salmon for Myrtle, the water turtle. I have to remember to shred some carrots for the desert tortoises.

I think of Stella and shake my head. Cook three meals in one night for my children—never!

© Susan Luzader 2022