I have a lot of jobs as a mom. My husband and I tried to name them all one night when I was feeling down. Some of them I embrace with open arms, some of them I do simply because they have to get done and no one else is going to do them.
I like “the cook” job. Sure, there are parts that are tedious like the grocery shopping. And I am not fond of coming up with the menu, oh and if I don’t have a lot of time to cook and I guess the making of different parts of the meal for everyone who does not like sauce or mushrooms or whatever wears me down. All in all, with everything, I do like cooking. I like experimenting and finding new recipes. Maybe this was where my creativity was spent when the boys were younger and I spent so much time in “Chauffuer” role.
Well, it had been a rough week of recipes. I had been extra experimental, usually only trying one new one a week, we were on our third of the week and that particular night was not one to put in the recipe binder and have another night. Alec and Andrew were sitting at the counter with funny faces, trying to mask their horror at the meal, I assume. Alec was nine years old, making Andrew fourteen. Out of nowhere, Alec says, “Mom, dinner has not been good lately, you’re fired.” I think I was cleaning up the kitchen. I went into a moment of shock. It never occurred to me that if I did a crummy job I could get fired. My mind went into an entire land of possibilities. Did that mean I could get fired from other jobs? It hurt my back to scrub the bathtub-my least favorite cleaning job, could I get fired from that, hmm, how? What would I have to do? Oh, how about picking up doggie doo? How could I screw that up so badly I got fired?
Alec just opened up a world of possibilities to me. Have you seen those movies where the main character kind of zones out in her own thoughts and everyone else is listening to elevator music waiting for her to come back? I imagine that was what happened. It was the best 10 minutes of my month, maybe my year!
And then the logical Andrew piped up, “Alec, shut up (we did not use that in our family, so you know Andrew was feeling very heated), you can’t fire mom! Who else is going to do what she does? Are you going to cook dinner?!”
A look of panic crossed Alec’s face and with an expression similar to a stomach ache he grimaced, “I was just joking mom, you’re not fired!”