Sometimes I put effort into my class act. What? You didn’t know it was an act? Bless you, my sweet cherubic liar. While you’re at it, go ahead and tell me I don’t look anywhere close to being old enough to have teens.
Have I mentioned that I’m not a domestic goddess? You may have noticed this if you’ve ever been to my home. I do put some effort into general tidiness and cleanliness, but not a whole lot. My kids have household chores, and I make them do them with strict regularity, but I try not to go all drill sergeant on them if they’re not as thorough as I would ideally like them to be. Sometimes I make them rewash dishes. But sometimes I figure, meh, I’m not the one who has to use that crusty container to pack my lunch for school. Sometimes I nag them to clean up their clutter and sometimes I just throw it out. I’m flexible that way.
Menu planning and gourmet meal preparation are two talents that are severely lacking in my domestic goddess repertoire. Almost every day, five o’clock rolls around and I suddenly realize that all these people around me are going to start whining to be fed and shoot! it’s my turn to make supper. It is always my turn. There are no other players in this game. Stupid game. It’s like “go to jail and do not collect $200” every single day.
However, yesterday was one of my rare days when I think ahead. I actually thawed the chicken overnight in the fridge. I had a new recipe I wanted to try and it looked so good and easy and I was absolutely sure it would change my life forever. I don’t very often cook with wine (because I’d rather just drink it), but I was determined to make a beautiful meal for my beloved family. I had everything prepared. There was fresh lettuce from our very own garden (my husband’s baby – not mine, as you may recall that my gardening skills suck grub guts). I have recently made the ginormous leap to real rice that takes more than one minute to make. And I was going to make this beautiful red wine/brown sugar chicken dish.
There is one small problem with being prepared well ahead of time. Supper may be ready way earlier than it usually is (you know, because when you usually decide sometime after 5 that you should maybe get some meat out of the freezer, you grow accustomed to eating at 6:30). And the problem with that is my husband doesn’t usually get home from work at 5. So, supper was ready early and the sweet hubs was not yet home. I didn’t want to eat this delicious, aromatic masterpiece with just the children (who would rather just have hot dogs anyway), so I decided to pour in some extra wine to keep it from drying out. But then I also turned the heat way down to keep it from burning.
You, my gourmand readers, may see where this is going. I, however, didn’t think it all the way through. So, when my vowed-to-love-me-forever-and-ever-no-matter-what husband arrived home, I demurely served our supper: sweet, sticky chicken that had been soaking in red wine for half an hour at a temperature that was not high enough to burn off the alcohol. My kids loved it.
And then I dropped them off at youth group.
I am all kinds of awesome!