If I could win one award, it would be for whining. I am a world class whiner. I try not to, mainly because I know my Mom and Dad will do what ever it takes to make my life easier and make me happy. Still, I'm ashamed to say I'm pretty darn good at it.
This morning I whined about having to go grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. Especially if I don't have a complete menu planned. If I don't have everything written down I know I will forget several items and end up back at the store too soon. (Please see a fore mentioned loathing of shopping.)
I've been very uninspired as of late when it comes to dinner. I'm beginning to see why growing up, dinner in my house was often a rotation of spaghetti, tacos, pizza and hamburgers. I'm tired of making and eating the few things most my kids will eat, even though they are quick and easy. Even more, I hate spending a considerable amount of time on a meal only to see it dumped down the sink and find my kids sneaking snacks in the pantry later. (At least they now know better than to verbally whine about not liking the food. Where did they get that whining habit from?) When the kids were little they would eat what ever I made. How have they all became so picky?
I put off shopping for as long as I can, but today I had to go. Shopping in December? I was not looking forward to it. I usually start stocking up in November so I don't have to enter the crowded stores. I couldn't come up with a menu that I was excited about and that I felt reassured that the majority of my family would eat. I also knew I would be getting tons of food to stock up throughout the holidays and I had no idea where I was going to put it when I got home.
So I whined about it. So much so that my awesome Big Edna (aka milk and banana fairy) offered to take care of Eliza so that I would only have to take care of one kid while managing two shopping carts. Yep, I whine; people help. It always makes me feel guilty, but apparently not enough to stop the whining.
On my way to Winco I was listening to a story about the living conditions of orphaned children (sometimes as early as the age of six or younger) working on cotton plantations in third world countries. I crumpled inside of myself. I was driving in my climate controlled vehicle to store filled to the brim of every kind of food imaginable. We are blessed for Nathan to have a good job so I can afford to buy food for our family. I thought of my little six year old and how he was comfortable learning about gingerbread men in his kindergarten class instead of begging for food or being beaten by the farming supervisors.
Not a day can go by that I listen to NPR that I do not realize how lucky I am to live in this country. My children are healthy. They are receiving an education. Nathan has a job that he finds rewarding. We have a home. After my shopping trip I had a kitchen stocked full of food and was so excited I couldn't decide which dinner to make first. What could I ever have to complain about?
When I walked into the produce section, Cyrus O'Leary pies were on sale. I'm still trying to decide if I regret not buying one. It doesn't matter. I didn't see any labeled "humble" and after recognizing my attitude this morning, a huge slice of that is what needs to be on my menu.
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2 comments:
I had a similar experience yesterday while Brian, the kids, and I were coming home from work.
I started to write about it here, but it got too long. I am just going to write a post on my blog. Thanks for your example and being an inspiration!
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