For those of you who follow me on twitter and actually read my tweets, you are probably accustomed to many of them sounding like a broken record in regards to begin a mid-twenty something still residing in her parent’s house. While some people may see extra $ when I say this, I just experience creepy crawly sensations and a constant state of desiring invisibility.
I’ve never been one to be completely close with my family. I’m one of the runts who always chose her friends before family. (Cue your gasps now) I don’t hate them and I don’t esteem them, I guess I just like (or deal) with them.
Since moving back home a couple of years ago after college ended, I have taken residence in the kitchen. I’m there for at least breakfast and dinner, but so are 4 other members of my family. Our kitchen is decent sized but feels like more like a trailer when everyone is meshed in at once. (Here come my eye rolls…)
The kitchen to most is a place of gathering with loved ones and friends enjoying each other’s camaraderie. For me, I would rather choose a studio apartment with a just-my-size kitchen than be in this
watering hole, I mean kitchen.
My Dad is most easily Pumba, weaving in and out making his presence known by his cologne. My youngest sister is Timon in her yappy voice and never-ending cheeriness. (Did I fail to mention I’m also NOT a morning person?) Switching gears, my mother is Baby Stewie from Family Guy. My other sister is Dopey from the Seven Dwarfs.
Dealing with all of this when you are 100% a Nala (Lion King) is tough stuff. I cannot seem to catch a break in this place. Either someone is eating, cooking at the same time, washing, speaking, or pestering me. Why hasn’t science invented invisibility spray yet?
On top of the calamitous personalities, I must also deal with those in the kitchen who steal my food. My food that I pay for and they always end up throwing out or making fun of. It’s enough to make a girl engage in a Mean Girls fight- safari style. (And by the way, this has occurred before for this reason.) You tell people not to touch or taste and curiosity along with hunger gets to them. I’m all for ask and you shall receive, but everyone oversteps where they take a drink in this watering hole of a kitchen.
Where have all the manners gone? Clearly I have manners meaning they were taught to me by a guardian, a.k.a. Baby Stewie & Pumba. Every time I take a step into the kitchen, I have to watch my back like a pack of wolves is after me. The “OOOO! What is that?” comments do not have a previous proven successful track record, just another way to piss me off.
The above rant probably has you calling me every bad word associated with a female. Don’t get me wrong I am thankful and appreciative of all my family has done for me. I just think somewhere the A relationship (respecting me) became the B relationship (all hail the guardians) and they never C-ed their way back to the A relationship. Reciproci-what?
Back to the kitchen…if any of you can relate to the overdramatized greek tragedy I have played out for you, here’s what to do.
- Volunteer to cook for them- something THEY want
- Buy them their groceries
- Put a fridge and food stash separately in your room
- Pretend you have laryngitis for a day
- Wake up before the birds to prepare a meal (I know a total doozy!)
- Role reverse and have them experience a morning, afternoon, or evening in your shoes in the kitchen
- Discreetly place “Too many cooks in the kitchen” sign above stove. Also invest in a magnetic one for the fridge.
- Wear your ipod the entire time while cooking
- Scream “FIRE!” (only used in rock bottom emergencies)
- Talk it out- State your feelings, create a schedule and make sure you don’t overlap!
Most of you will not even read this post as it has no relation to you. For the few I’m hoping that do, let’s please talk! It’s okay for misery to love company on this topic!
Peace, love, and harmonious watering holes!