Some days it's all I can do to just keep our little family fed. Forget about the fact that my living room is slowing filling with sand, about the "Tom and Jerry" show that's happening upstairs between the dog and the cat, about the dandelions that are slowly taking over the yard--some days, I just have to channel the last of my energies into making sure that dinner is on the table before hunger and exhaustion lead to utter meltdown. And that's just me I'm talking about here.
Today was one of those days. I came home from a long day at the office wired and cranky and exhausted only to find that I had forgotten to take tonight's dinner out of the freezer before I left for work. To make matters worse, the refrigerator was virtually empty. We'd even eaten all the pasta and frozen pizzas.
But before we had to resort to eating dandelions, my wonderful husband produced a delicious meal out of virtually nothing: French toast and eggs made from some stale-ish bread, some sour-ish milk and a couple of eggs. And it was delicious! I loved having "breakfast for dinner" when I was a kid. My mom must have served it up once every week or two--probably on nights when she came home from work to find that she'd forgotten to defrost dinner.
So while Kevin made magic in the kitchen, Colin and I went out into the yard to do something about those dandelions. But waging war on dandelions is really a sisyphean task. Before I had kids, I used to dig them out to their very root tips, which is the only herbacide-free way to really get rid of them. But life is really too short, so these days I settle for just ripping off their little heads before they have a chance to spread.
Fortunately, Colin thought this was a pretty fun game, so he ran around pulling them all up by their scrawny little necks and leaving them all in a pile for me. (I hope he doesn't think he can do this when my *real* flowers come up ... ) Then it occurred to me that dandelions aren't so bad after all. They're even kind of cheerful even when they're all bunched up in a bouquet. And so, voila!, a lovely dinner for two (and a half). I couldn't have planned it better.