A Mom's life

“The vegetables came a little mushy. I hope they are OK?” my wife says as I pack my lunch for work the next day. She fried enough mixed vegetables Sunday to last a week. For my Tuesday lunch, I packed them along with a chicken cutlet. After eating them, I phoned her to let her know they tasted excellent.
On Sunday, she also made tomato sauce and pasta and packed the extra in the fridge for lunches. I had ziti for lunch today. Monday night she made my sons a steak, French Fries and broccoli. In between, she whipped up an Oreo pie. I’ve already eaten more than half and will probably finish it tonight unless someone beats me to it.
I appreciate when my wife cooks because she is so busy with her job and other household chores.
My teen-age sons are a different story. Mary has been cooking more than usual lately and I think it was prompted by an exchange about a month ago. It was one of those typical Saturdays for her. She was cleaning, shopping and driving kids around, getting some help from me and none from my sons. Sometime around 6 or 7 p.m. my oldest complained that there was nothing to eat. Michael’s problem is that he does not like things warmed up in the microwave or oven and views all the ready-to-eat food in the refrigerator and freezer as unacceptable. I felt sorry for my wife. Kids are kids but she had been doing chores all day and hearing her 15-year-old announce she had failed in the meal department must have been discouraging. She spent most of the next day cooking.
This weekend she made two trips to the local deli/produce store because they didn’t have everything my sons wanted on the first trip. After the second visit Danny, who has no problem warming up prepared food, announced that she forgot his “favorite” cold cuts.
“Danny stop complaining. Your mother shopped all weekend,” I said before she could answer. She chimed in that when she had bought the particular item the week before he had ignored it and she ended up tossing it. Being a teenager, he continued to argue. A minute later she was upstairs upset and Danny, 14, was downstairs seemingly unaffected.
This weekend I spent a lot of time outdoors throwing around a baseball with my sons as they prepared for school tryouts. It’s a lot of fun helping them with sports and they appreciate it.
Moms have it a lot tougher. While Dad is out playing ball and getting credit, they are doing more important things.