Making dinner.

 So I never realized how thankful I should be that Mom makes good food and doesn't whine about it.


All the years I have been alive-and there's been several-she's made excellent food. I didn't even KNOW it was excellent until I ate other people's cooking. Vindaloo, dahl, spaghetti, steak, jambalaya, creole, scampi, soup, stroganoff, fish, etc. Its been amazing really. And then this year, there came a change.


My parents decided that the responsibility of making dinner should be shared by the three oldest girls, that being Sarah, Abby, and me. Sarah cooks Monday nights, me Tuesday, and Abby Thursday. Hup boy.


So this afternoon, I was chilling and Mom said, "Oh, by the way, you're making potato soup with broccoli tonight." "Alright, sounds good." I said cheerfully through my Lady GaGa haze. 


No, it wasn't.


Dad came downstairs tonight shortly after he got home and interrupted my Facebook creeping to make me go prepare dinner. I came upstairs and he gave me the directions.


Ok, this is a little more complicated than I thought. I plugged in Mom's iPod and washed the potatoes while singing "Starstruck" and "Monster". Then, it was time to peel them.


I don't know if you've ever peeled potatoes, but let me tell you. These are slippery, bumpy little widgets. It's not cool. Potato peelings all over the floor, Sarah helping me (she didn't do much last night, so she pitched in tonight) and singing "May it Be" and me battling back with "Speechless". Then I was not sure of the correct way to put the broccoli in the pot. Cut it all up? Shred it? And how do you wash it, anyhow?!


So Dad told me what to do and I stood at the stove, putting broccoli into the Big Red Pot and singing "Firework" and chattering with Sarah, who was cutting up the potatoes. My back was history.


When it looked like Sarah had the stuff under control, I went downstairs, leaving the potatoes on boil.


I sure hope Sarah took them off, because I'm obviously still down here.


Mom, I appreciate you.