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What happened to my husband?
 Friday, March 28, 2008

Looking at me plaintfully my husband asked… “What’s for dinner?”

I hate this question. I especially hate this question after a long day at work.

Flipping through a back issue of People (how cute is Nicole Richie’s new baby daughter??) I responded… “I don’t know.”

The kids have already eaten leftover macaroni and cheese, so I felt no pressure to get dinner prepared.

He wandered around the kitchen, randomly picking up items, then putting them back down. Finally, he ends up next to me… “What’s for dinner?”

Did I mention how much I hate the question? But here’s the real thing that I’m wondering…

When did my husband become so helpless?

He used to feed himself, I’m sure of it. There was a time between when he graduated from college and when we moved in together when he must have made himself dinner on a semi-regular basis. I know because he looked very healthy when we met. But now, he seems perplexed by the very act of deciding what to eat for dinner, never mind how to make it.

He also used to clean up after himself. The first time I visited his apartment I was incredibly impressed by how neat it was. His apartment was immaculate! The kitchen was sparkling and you could see the vacuum marks in the rug. Now, with a pile of laundry on his side of the bed that threatens to swallow our cat, he is officially the messiest person in our home. And that is saying a lot.

And laundry. Again, he must have known how to do laundry. He always looked neat and clean when I saw him, which I inferred to mean that he knew how to operate a washer and dryer. And yet, when our son is out of clean pants, my husband looks to me for a solution to the situation.

The irony is that this same man can take apart an electrical junction box, change the shocks on our car, and build new bathroom cabinets without a second thought.

So why, oh why, can’t he figure out what to make for dinner?!

by Kristin * Comments (4) * Link to this entry

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Comments

You might have seen my post over in big tent about broiling the basil balsamic FFF recipe. You might have even thought, well at least one MM's husband didn't ask what's for dinner.

Well you might be right....except as I was putting the chicken onto the broiler I got a call saying he wouldn't be home just yet. He was stopping for a quick beer with his boss. (He never does this and there are buyout rumors and such going on a work, so I do understand he didn't have much of a choice.) However, he is still not home, it is going on 2 hours since I served the amazing chicken I raved about on big tent.

Anyway I found it ironic that your husband is asking what's for dinner and my husband's dinner is sitting here ruined.

Posted by: micheleinohio [TypeKey Profile Page] | March 28, 2008 06:40 PM

No kidding, Kristin. Mine came home after a week long business trip and wondered why we only had Ziploc snack size bags and "no damn sandwich bags." Because I don't pack his lunch, how would I know that we didn't have any sandwich bags?

The man can, as an active duty military person of significant intelligence, save the world for freedom and democracy and he can't take care of his own sandwich bags?!

Michele, did your husband ever come home and enjoy your fabulous broiling?

Posted by: KbRadcliffe [TypeKey Profile Page] | March 29, 2008 03:17 PM

Ah, yes, the dreaded "what's for dinner" question.

I have a few standard answers.....
"What's for dinner?"
"food."

"What's for dinner?"
"I don't know, what are you making?"

"What's for dinner?"
"There are two choices for dinner....take it or leave it."

If you ask me, deciding what to have for dinner is THE hardest part of making it. I don't mind the shopping, or the cooking, or the cleaning up....Just hate the decision of what to have!

Posted by: Karen [TypeKey Profile Page] | March 30, 2008 10:47 AM

Ahhhh, yes. The dreaded "What's for dinner?" question.
I've stopped this question. I just write down what's for dinner for the entire week on our kitchen whiteboard. If they ask, I refer them to the whiteboard.
If they grumble about the choice (read: my husband whining worse than our 3-year old), I usually ask if that means he's taking us out to dinner? He shuts up after that.

Rach (incredibly manic mommy)

Posted by: mamapadawan [TypeKey Profile Page] | March 30, 2008 02:59 PM

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