Patrick and I persisted in our eating out pattern, but didn’t want our kids to think that we didn’t cook. So, we set up three days a week where either Patrick or I would prepare the meal.
I cooked what I liked, he cooked what he liked. I didn’t like a lot of his meals.
To hide this, we’d call Monday, Tuesday and Thursday ‘movie nights’ and eat in front of the television.
He would bring in his food and their food, and I’d eat what I wanted in the kitchen.
He liked most of my cooking so it was only on a few occasions he’d be whipping up his own meal on ‘my’ kitchen night.
Once and a while, Christmas, Thanksgiving, some other days, we’d have a sit down dinner. We usually had sit down breakfasts and lunches, so our children knew how to sit at a table, serve themselves, and all the rest.
Maybe it was so clever, when the kids were there, to pretend to be a ‘team’, but now, I hated the deception.
I hated living a lie for thirty three years.