We all have our weaknesses.
For me, frozen pizza always proves to be an irresistible temptation. I don’t mean eating it, though. I suppose I like to eat it well enough, but what I really mean is this: If there is frozen pizza in the house, I cannot resist serving it for dinner. It’s so easy. It’s so well-liked. It’s so not messy to clean up afterwards.
This afternoon I went to the grocery store and stocked up on items for many days’ worth of dinners. Dinners that will require some time, some attention, and some prior planning on my part. I was planning recipe dinners. You know, the kind that make me feel like I’m being a good mom but that half of my kids reject in a fraction of the time they take to prepare. The kind that leave 47 messy pots and pans in my kitchen sink afterwards. I was being good.
But then I got to the frozen foods section and noticed they’re running a special on frozen pizzas. (Full disclosure: They are always running a special on some sort of frozen pizza, but I count on this excuse). So I put a couple of them in my cart. Not for today mind you, just to store in the freezer so that I’d have a quick and ready meal on some hairy afternoon when I especially need it.
Honestly. I was going to save them. I was not going to serve them for tonight’s dinner. But then it was like those pizzas leaped out of their cardboard boxes and into the oven all by themselves. Really. You have got to believe me. I am a victim here.
If that hectic afternoon I am anticipating occurs within the next couple of days, I suppose we’ll have to make do with pasta and tomato sauce. Right now, as the aroma of pepperoni and melting mozzarella fill the air, I am heading to the kitchen to make a green salad. No one will eat it, but it might ease the pangs of guilt.