The kiddos and I are headed for the ATL for a few weeks. We are leaving Hubbie to deal with the rental house woes. I told him he damn well better have a game plan because I am not coming back here the end of June to find everything still the same.
My dad flew in last night to help us get ready and give us a hand flying down.
He has been here a scant 24 hours, and I already want to tear my hair out.
Growing up, my dad cooked all the meals. He loved to cook, and made everything from scratch. Spaghetti and meatballs meant he made the sauce and he made the meatballs. Pizza meant he made the pizza, dough included.
My friends loved to eat at my house because the food was homemade, hearty, and good.
So tonight when I made pizza for the kids, I thought my dad would be proud of me. Granted, my toddler pizza is not totally homemade but the sauce is. I am very proud of the fact that I found a quick and cheap way to make pizza sauce for the kids. It only makes a little and does not go to waste.
When I told me dad about my sauce, I don't know what I was expecting. We talk about cooking a lot, chatting about recipes and ingredients. I supposed I thought he would be impressed.
His reaction? Why don't you just buy a jar of Ragu?
There are a gazillion reasons why I wouldn't buy a jar of Ragu, but that wasn't the point. I tried to explain to him, and he just got mad at me and kept raising his voice (in front of my kids) saying he didn't know why I was upset.
Like a dumbass, I went and cried in the shower for about twenty minutes. I just felt so frustrated. When the hell am I going to learn that my parent are my parents? They will never change. Getting praise from them is ridiculously expensive.
The rub salt in the wound moment came after my shower. My dad had one of his favorite TV programs on. 30 Minute Meals with the fabulous Rachel Ray. He asked if I ever watched it, again. I told him no, again. He went into how great of a program it was, how her recipes were so wonderful.
Um, Rachel Ray makes everything from fucking scratch. The whole point of her show is to use what you have in the kitchen to make fabulous and healthy food. She doesn't start by saying "Pop open that can of Ragu."
I'm about to take a ride on the crazy train, people. Somebody save me from my family.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Not Even Gone, And Already It Has Begun
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7 comments:
LOL!
Yep, parents are parents are parent. You can't change them or their preconceptions of what you are or should be. Let it go!
I think we all tend to want to put people in boxes - 'you're good at this', 'he's good at that', 'you can't do so-and-so' - but parents are past masters at it.
I wonder what my kids will be saying about me?
My mom got like that in her older days, too. I'll never forget her making one of what used to be her best casseroles at the last Thanksgiving we had together. We were sharing a meal with my nephew's adopted family (long story), so to some extent we had to go along with the flow there. But Mom couldn't remember how to make this casserole she used to make in her sleep, so she was going off of someone else's recipe. It had (((gag))) mayo in it! Most of the food that year was inedible (to me, at least). It was made from overprocessed crap. I stuck with meat and veggies (of which there was precious little).
I don't know what happens to our folks as they get older, but it seems like they aren't the people we thought we knew. Maybe that's just because we change. I don't know.
I wish you peace - D
My mother...AAAHHHHHH!!!!!
Anyway, you can never go home. That is my motto. No one knows what the hell they are doing when it comes to raising kids, and after you move out you get your own life with your own weird habits. Try and go home and your habits will never mesh with your parents' habits.
Run babe. Take the kids and run.
-P
My personal tactic is to take a nice box of chocolates along (a big one) and when the going gets rough I hide in my room and eat them. Don't know why this works for me, but it does.
Good luck, it will be o-k.
If it makes you feel any better, Rachel Ray does NOT make everything from scratch. She only pretends to. She's always using pre-made doughs and pre-made stuff to make it look homemade. She's the queen of shortcuts. AND all the food I've seen her make starts at 400 calories per serving.
Good luck with the parents. You can't live with them, but you can't live without them either. My mom used to drive me batty but now that she's gone, I miss her dearly.
My parents drive me insane. My only joy is that someday I'm going to drive my kids insane.
Oh and Ragu sucks.Bad. Well done for making your own sauce. I do as well.
Ah, parents. They know just which buttons to push. {hugs}
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