Saying Yes: My Lesson in Poached Eggs
What’s for dinner?
Two hungry tummies, two demanding voices, tandem reminders that I am not on my game tonight.
Desperately, I scan for something other than my continual stand-by for short-prep dinners (chicken nuggets). It’s just too hot to turn on the oven tonight.
How about breakfast for dinner?
Easy-peasy scrambled eggs and toast. Ha! I’m a genius.
Yeah! Two boys yell in tandem.
But I want mine poached.
Uh. Poached? I don’t poach. I don’t even like eggs, quite frankly. They smell. I only eat eggs masquerading in cheese. I can scramble but I have no idea how to poach. Poached eggs gross me out.
I try diversionary tactics. Let’s have scrambled eggs! What would you like on your toast?
We want poached!
I admit my ignorance. Sorry, dudes, mom don’t poach. I throw up my hands, expecting concession – not factoring in which boys I’m talking to. Gabe’s boys.
We know how to make poached eggs! We watch daddy all the time!
I wanted to say no. It’ll be messy. And smelly. And then I’ll have more pans to wash. I really wanted to say no. But I said yes.
And poach they did – they walked me through step-by-step – which pan to use, how much water, when to put in the eggs. They helped crack the eggs into the pan; they knew when they were done and how to serve them (with butter and black pepper – I had no idea!) , they even sliced mushrooms (for my own scramble – still not eating those nasty things poached) and strawberries for their own side.
Did it take longer than it could have? Sure. Was it messy? Oh, yeah. But it was still a quick, filling dinner. They loved helping, and I was able to wipe the raw egg off the stove top before it hardened.
It’s so easy to fall into the habit of “No.”
The things they ask of me – their demands can be so overwhelming. “No” becomes a habit under which all three of us begin to drown. As part of my effort to be grateful for everything – even the bad days – I’m trying to say “Yes” more.
Linking up today with Say Yes Tuesday…