Received Thursday, September 30, 2010
I take care of three children. One is mostly on a bottle and the other two are young. The parents expect me to cook every night. And they want veggies and grilled steaks and stuff. I don't have time for that. Fortunately they don't ask for receipts for petty cash and they don't routinely go over the grocery receipts. So, here is today for example:
I am busy all day. I know I have to cook. I have an hour to get the kids dinner made so I can get us all back out the door to an activity, leaving mom and dad to come home and enjoy another of my feasts uninterrupted. I go to the deli earlier this afternoon and I get some sesame chicken breasts. Three. She puts them in a large soup container and they stay in the backseat most of the afternoon while I am out. I get home, throw a bunch of lipton onion soup mix and a can of chicken broth on the chicken and throw it in a frying pan with hot oil to get it brown then I drop it in a casserole and throw it in the oven. I open a can of asparagus and dump it in a small frying pan with a massive glob of butter. I go in to the garage freezer for my secret stash of frozens and grab a bag of pre cut mashed potatoes. I throw them in the microwave, still stained with my lunch time nachos. I take the potatoes out of the micro and mash them up with some half and half, garlic and romano cheese. I throw some texas toast in the oven. None for mom. She doesn't like bread. I take everything out and slam half of a half of a chicken on each kids plate with a blob of mashed potatoes. I take more care to arrange both parents plate, (paprika on the potatoes, a squirt of lemon on the asparagus) and cover those. I slam the kids in front of the plates and tell them they have ten minutes to eat. They complain and don't eat. I give them fruit snacks and oreos. I get all the kids in the car to get our dinner out. I do a quick clean up on the kitchen, (the messier it looks, the more the parents feel like they are eating a gourmet meal) and I grab all of the trash which I drop in a neighbor's garbage can four doors down. By the time I get back tonight, the parents will have cleaned the kitchen and left me a thoughtful note. I appreciate that, but hey, I'm no cook and never said I was.