I owe you an apology.
I had no idea how hard you worked when we were kids. I have had two weeks straight where I have struggled to get any kind of food in front of my children at night. And while I have not resorted to feeding my kids from a concession stand, it’s probably only because I didn’t think of it. More often than not, I’ve fallen to the siren call of take out or a bowl of cereal.
It’s fortified with 10 vitamins and minerals, right?
I don’t know how you did it. You worked all day, came home and had dinner on the table by 5 or 5:30 EVERY night. And while I do remember a few nights of hamburger helper, most of the time you managed to put a real meal on the table. Meat. Two vegetables. Bread. Really sweet iced tea. The works.
Oh, I was not grateful enough. I should have bowed down and kissed your feet with every plate of spaghetti or slab of meatloaf or…….dare I say…….even the marathon of stuffed green peppers we endured one fall and winter. What I wouldn’t give to be able to grab a few of those out of a big black garbage bag, pour some Ragu over the top and pop those babies in the oven. Instead of mocking them, I should have been astounded by your ability to have a meat, a veggie, and a starch (there was rice in the stuffing) all in one neat little package.
Like most things you did, I’ve had to grow up and have my own kids to really appreciate them.
So I beg your forgiveness.
Think you could whip up some stuffed peppers on your next visit?
Love,
Your grateful (better late than never) daughter.















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