A Sprinkling of Fairy-Dust & Family Feasts...
Mrs Thomas is the Oldest Son's geography teacher. She is also, like me, five months pregnant. We are frequently updated on her progress - "Mrs Thomas had her scan & everything is fine with the baby", my son confides. "Mrs Thomas's morning sickness seems to be worse in the evening"... "Mrs Thomas is considering an early epidural"... But nothing prepared me or The Husband for the latest revelation about the Thomas pregnancy. Apparently Mrs Thomas no longer gets up in the night if their older child wakes. Instead she kicks Mr Thomas, who gladly skips out of bed leaving Mrs Thomas to her maternal slumbers. "Lucky Mrs Thomas!" I mumbled. The Husband was almost incandescent with indignant fury, positively burning to explain Mr Thomas's irrational behaviour. "Yes, but Mrs Thomas works..." he spluttered.
Excuse me? What The Husband actually meant, no doubt, is that Mrs Thomas earns, & that entitles her and her unborn to special husbandly concern & support... I, on the other hand, loll, as all stay-at-home mums do, of course, on the sofa all day while the little house-fairies do the washing & the cleaning & the cooking & the hoovering & the nappies & the feeding & the cuddling & the jigsaws & the sweeping & the dusting & the encouraging & the loving & the lavatories, like something out of an old-fashioned Disney movie.
A surprise visit from a cousin requiring B&B at the weekend called for a certain amount of ingenuity when translating the contents of the storecupboard into an evening meal 'suitable for visitors', as my mother would say. Fish stew was hastily assembled from haddock & prawns quickly defrosted from the freezer, white wine, onions, tomatoes, garlic, chili & stock, & served with french bread. Another sortie through the larder found a packet of ginger snaps & a jar of lemon curd, the fridge yielded cream cheese & fresh raspberries, so pudding was, inevitably, a cheesecake. We feasted. We relived childhood holidays, shared memories of a beloved Grandmother, recalled the tastes of growing-up that bind us more effectively than blood - her oniony-mashed potato, her chocolate mousse, her chicken fricasee, her apple snow, her redcurrant jelly-gravy. "The family that eats together stays together", she always said.
Excuse me? What The Husband actually meant, no doubt, is that Mrs Thomas earns, & that entitles her and her unborn to special husbandly concern & support... I, on the other hand, loll, as all stay-at-home mums do, of course, on the sofa all day while the little house-fairies do the washing & the cleaning & the cooking & the hoovering & the nappies & the feeding & the cuddling & the jigsaws & the sweeping & the dusting & the encouraging & the loving & the lavatories, like something out of an old-fashioned Disney movie.
A surprise visit from a cousin requiring B&B at the weekend called for a certain amount of ingenuity when translating the contents of the storecupboard into an evening meal 'suitable for visitors', as my mother would say. Fish stew was hastily assembled from haddock & prawns quickly defrosted from the freezer, white wine, onions, tomatoes, garlic, chili & stock, & served with french bread. Another sortie through the larder found a packet of ginger snaps & a jar of lemon curd, the fridge yielded cream cheese & fresh raspberries, so pudding was, inevitably, a cheesecake. We feasted. We relived childhood holidays, shared memories of a beloved Grandmother, recalled the tastes of growing-up that bind us more effectively than blood - her oniony-mashed potato, her chocolate mousse, her chicken fricasee, her apple snow, her redcurrant jelly-gravy. "The family that eats together stays together", she always said.
On the Sunday the house-fairies cooked roast pork with apple & black pudding, parsnips & braised cabbage. The next morning The Husband got up early when the children woke & gave them breakfast, allowing me to loll for an extra half an hour.
Perhaps my grandmother was right...
posted by The Happy Housewife at 6:39 PM
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