Now you all know I am a Momaholic (Addicted to being a mom). I admit it’s a sickness. It’s not enough for me to feed my family. No, I have to go out of my way to insure that even my children who have moved out try to sit at the table every night. It’s not that I want them there(not saying I don’t). It’s not even that I enjoy cooking all that much (even though I’m referred to as “The Italian Mother, who just happens to be Irish”). I just can’t seem to stop myself from doing things to help people, or at least trying to. My family likes to tease me about it, but just let me go away for day. It’s the end of the world.
Tonight’s topic at the table, which included J, her husband, little O, & the negative twins (sounds like a band!) was about how I would rhapsodize tonight about my broken microwave vegetable steamer. The negative twins were moaning about how stupid blogging was and why should they have to read it(kids, on the cusp of 21, know everything) The married couple was complaining that I must have too much time on my hands, since I have time to write. They had big plans for my free time, all involved me taking the twins (the real twins, not the negative ones). My hubby, as predictable as the seasons, kept his eyes down and his mouth full (as a middle child, he knows how to stay out of trouble). So where was I? Standing at the counter, because the kitchen table only seats six, listening to my families’ debate. I was smiling to myself. I am so lucky to have this. Twin 4 month olds asleep on the sofa, my 22 month old pride and joy throwing rice in the air, my adult children(and childen-in-law) arguing over who does more to help me, and my other half enjoying what I made for him.
But, I am going to miss that steamer!
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