I like to cook, and I love to have my family gathered together around the table for dinner. We eat family meals more nights that not, but schedules being what they are, there is always at least one night a week where we end up eating out.
And then there are weeks like this one, where we spend more nights eating out than in.
The last meal I cooked was Monday night. And tonight, it was looking like it would be the fourth day in a row that we would eat out. I left the office late–it was nearly six o’clock. My oldest boy was going to the gym, and I was contemplating meeting him there. But if I chose to go to the gym instead of going home to cook dinner, that would force us into another night of eating out. I weighed my options.
And then I decided to head home and cook dinner.
And I’m glad I did. It was yummy, and even if we didn’t manage to sit down together at the same time, at least we were all eating under the same roof.
So tonight was about making choices. At first, I thought I was deciding between being selfish and being more family-oriented. But the more I think about it, the more I see how both choices were self-ish.
The choice was really: which aspect of my self was I willing to feed?