I feel like Old Mother Hubbard. My cupboard is SO bare. And payday is still two more days away. I tried to make pancakes...no eggs. I tried to make spaghetti...no noodles. Grilled cheese? No cheese. I think you get the pattern here.
How can I have come from a weekend a pure gluttony and now have nothing to eat? Poor Autumn took sliced turkey wrapped in a tortilla for her "sandwich" today. (She thought it was awesome...so no point in telling her I just didn't have any bread.)
I MUST DO SOME SHOPPING!
Unfortunately, the cost of buying groceries for my family for 4 is about $250-$300 every two weeks. Right now in my bank I have $50. So it looks like groceries will just have to wait.
Last night, in desperation, I opened a box of fish sticks. Not even Van DeKamps fish sticks. No gourmet fish sticks for us. I bought a generic knock off version. It had been living in my freezer for about a month just waiting for a moment of desperation like this.
Fish sticks = entree. Check.
Macaroni & Cheese = side dish. Check
Cauliflower = vegetable. Check. (I did have a head of fresh cauliflower that I steamed....so I could safely say we had some sort of nutrition in this meal.)
So there you go....gourmet eating at my house.
And a bottle of wine.....just because Momma was going a little nuts last night.
Fish sticks and wine....yep, that's just how I roll...well that's how I rolled last night at least.
I feel this overwhelming sense of guilt when I make a meal like this. I picture Betty Crocker or Donna Reed setting down frozen, pre packaged fish in front of their family. Would they do it? No they would not! They are probably wearing cutesy little aprons and high heels with perfect make up and no fat anywhere. Bitches.
Last night I served dinner in sweat pants, hair in a clip on the back of my head and faced scrubbed clean of make up.
Sexy, right? No...it wasn't. But why should it matter? I work hard. I take care of my family. My kids are in clean clothes that fit. They never go hungry. So what if once in awhile we have fish sticks for dinner or Mac & Cheese? So what I have sit down in grungy PJ's? Why do I need to feel bad about that? Why do I left myself feel like I am less of a mother and wife on nights like these?
But I do.
The guilt over the fantasy of "what it should be" versus the reality of "what it really is like" always war against each other. And logically I know it's stupid. I'm a good mom. I'm a good wife (minus a few days out of the month when I'm a total bitch). I'm a good daughter. I'm a good employee. I am enough.
I am enough!
My wish flower: I wish I could remember those words on the days when I need to hear them the most.