I’ve been thinking a lot about the Dinner at Our House post. I’m really not a pretentious jerk, but man did I seem like one in that post. I certainly didn’t mean to imply that dinner at our house is a fancy affair every night. Nor do I want to leave the impression that we always have ironed napkins. Or that I even make dinner every night (last night I picked up Panera!)
I was really just slayed by the girl who said she never, ever had a sit-down dinner with her family.
I do pretty well getting the family fed, although they don’t always like what I make. (Tonight, I watched two grown men pick around the chickpeas in their Mediterranean pasta dinner.) But tonight’s dinner was what it was because I haven’t grocery shopped for more than a week and the whole meal had to come from what was in the pantry/fridge.
There are dust bunnies happily living under my couch.
I really need to clean the inside of my refrigerator.
There. I feel less pretentious now. And if you ever catch me acting like I’ve got it all together, and that I’m the well-organized working mom who gets a gourmet dinner (with cloth napkins) on the table every night, please call me on it.
Just say, “are you ironing your cloth napkins again?”