Is it Thievery or Emerging Survival Skills?

I made roasted chicken legs for dinner even though my husband hates eating meat on the bone because while I was at the store I decided I wanted to roast a chicken and roasting the legs seemed easier than roasting an entire chicken. Actually I don’t think I have ever roasted an entire chicken. Maybe I was scared. Or did I feel it was too self-indulgent to buy one already roasted with my husband home? Going to my sisters’ houses affects me. They all clean and cook and bottle food. Some of them even sew. They all garden too, but some of them garden on the scale of having a small farm.

On the scale of doing traditional womanly stuff I pretty much suck. I’d rather watch back to back episodes of Charmed, or, in reality, any crappy TV show. I like to sew but only costumes or baby girl clothes and I haven’t sewn in years. I don’t do any useful sewing -- my children have actually outgrown clothing I meant to mend. I don’t bottle food or garden. I hate to clean and my children have beaten any desire to cook out of me because of the constant complaints over anything I make.

I always come back from seeing my sisters inspired to change but it never lasts. Anyway, I was trying to impress my husband by making dinner. (Even though I know he won’t like what I’m making. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense but I think he’ll appreciate the effort.) I wasn’t sure Will would eat the chicken because he didn’t the last time. But he did. He ate two pieces. He asked for more but I told him to eat his salad and rice. He swiped Bri’s mostly eaten chicken leg from her plate and finished it off. Again I told him to eat his veggies. He waited until the coast was clear then swiped her replacement chicken leg. One would think that by this time I would be vigilant in my efforts to head off the chicken appropriation committee. But no. The next piece of chicken swiped came from my plate!

Ahhh, progress! Maybe he could survive a national emergency.