Growing up I’ve always been an observer, I’ll watch my mother cook for my father and cater to him. He would come home from a long stressful day at work, and I’ll watch them greet each other with a passionate kiss.
While he head’s for the shower she makes her way to the kitchen to prepare his plates. When I say prepare his plate I don’t mean the rice beans and chicken all in the one plate. My father was getting five star treatments, everything was in a different plate or should I say bowl. And then he’ll get an empty plate so he can take out the portion he needed and save the rest for later.
Each time I watch this routing I shake my head. Now when we was real young my mother use to call us to bring him his food, but as I got older and had a little attitude problem I use to pop out the mouth and say what’s on my mind! What’s wrong with his legs? Sometimes I’ll say it loud enough for him to hear it, but for some reason I never got checked for that.
There was this one time my mother was going to church and didn’t have time to take out his food and can you believe she asked me of all people to take out his plate! Awe man I remember it like it was yesterday, I was probably 17 at the time and was dating Jayda’s father, my love. All I did was laugh never gave her an answer.
When my father got home I waited for him to get out the shower and told him flat out his food was on the stove, he waited for a while to take out his plate, I guess he realized their was no waitress on stand by.
Watching him take out his food, was like a dream come true for me, why because for once I felt like my mom did not have to do it, I only wished she was here to witness that her husband legs and hands was A o.k!
After he took his food he stood in front of me with his plate in hand, and this was our conversation:
DAD: Your mother did not tell you to take out my food?
ME: Omg… yea
DAD: So why didn’t you?
ME: Because you could do it yourself (She’s been in that hot stove all this time preparing you something to eat why in a world you can’t get up and get your own damn food, she’s not your maid) … well I didn’t say the last part to him but damn sure was thinking it.
DAD: If your mom was here I wouldn’t have to get it mys- (yup I cut him off)
ME: Well she’s not here, and good thing I’m not your wife!
DAD: (he laughed) you know one day you’re going to have a husband you’re going to HAVE TO do that for him!
ME: nah anh! If I cook he can get his own food,
It was a long conversation and a long debate, he got my sister involved and all. And believe it or not my sister agreed with me. I guess watching our mom do that for years did something to our mind, in my case it was to do the complete opposite, Be nothing like my mother!
The Joy Of Cooking For Your Man
TO BE CONTINUE
