There are many things I hate about widowhood, but today I’m going to complain about dinner.

I hate it.

Every single night, it’s my responsibility to figure out our dinner plans.

I’m the only one who can meal plan and go to the grocery store.

Then I must prep it, cook it, and clean it up. Even if I get the kids to help with any part of this, it’s still me directing the show solo.

Half the time at least one person at the table turns their nose up at their plate. The boys’ palates vary as much as their personalities do. There are but a handful of meals they all enjoy, and we can’t have burgers for dinner 7 days a week. Let’s face it, if we did, they wouldn’t like those anymore anyway.

I am well intentioned on the weekends and even chart us a meal plan for the week.

However, Monday rolls around and I have zero desire to implement it. I must force myself to get into the kitchen to start dinner.

We’ve all seen the memes about how adulting is figuring out what is for dinner every night. It was cute and funny until I no longer shared that responsibility with Tony. I don’t only miss having him to share this household task. The other big thing I miss is having another adult in the house who enjoys the outcome and trying new foods.

I still remember our last Sunday together. I told him what our meal plans were for the week and headed to the store. We were going to make fajitas on our flattop Wednesday night. He died on Tuesday. I remember looking at that steak turning grey in the fridge. It was this weird reminder of how different my life was in the immediate aftermath.

Why would I make fajitas now? I’m the only one who would eat the peppers and onions.  The kids would just ask for cheese quesadillas and making steak fajitas for one isn’t worth the effort.

So yeah, I loathe dinner time. The kids prefer what we have dubbed, DIY night, where they can forage for their own dinner in the kitchen. I do cook some, but nowhere near as much as my mom guilt thinks I should. I try and implement mealtime together, so even if we’re all having something different, we’re at least gathering around the table together a few nights a week.

We say it over and over but even the small things like dinner time change so much when we lose our person.