Mexican Dinner Narrative

667 Words2 Pages

Gathering the fresh tortilla shells, I separated them and laid them on the counter. As I worked on my usual Mexican dinner--the one I'd made for over twenty years without interference--Mom strolled through the kitchen and hovered over me, a look of uncertainty on her face. Her brown eyes burned a hole through my work area that was hot enough to bake my enchiladas on the spot!

"Won't you need a larger baking dish?" she asked. "Why are you adding more spices to the sauce?"

"Don't grate the cheese by hand. Use my machine." "Why don't you fill them this way?"

"It would be easier if you folded from the other side."

"Oh dear, you've spilled crumbs on the floor--could you move a minute so I can …show more content…

When my father died, Mom's zeal for cooking and baking exploded! Cooking had been my father's passion, but now Mom started watching every televised cooking show she could find and loved thumbing through dozens of cookbooks. Our long-distance phone conversations often centered around the latest recipes she had tried out. I felt elated that Mom had found a fresh, creative interest. However, her lustful appetite for preparing food (pun intended) came with one drawback--she started "hovering" over "her" kitchen and anyone using it.

We only visited my mother once-a year, but I had always helped out by cooking some of the evening meals. Now, I had high hopes this kitchen exchange had been a fluke, but when Mom's hovering continued, I solved MY problem by fixing dinner during Mom's nap time.

I didn't discuss what had happened with my family, but the following Sunday while my mother was in church, I heard a commotion coming from the kitchen.

"Hurry!" my son's voice echoed down the hallway. "She'll be home soon. I think her church gets out at …show more content…

While my husband and sons prepared their meals in the kitchen, Mom scrutinized every move they made, fussing over them and tossing out suggestions and questions. Although they knew she meant well, they squirmed under her attacks.

It didn't take long before my sons affectionately and secretly named their grandmother, Mother Hover--a take off on Mother Hubbard.

When it looked like Mom's new habit was here to stay the family learned to perfect their kitchen timing, watching and waiting until that moment when perhaps Mom was in the shower, or bathroom. Even a phone call allowed everyone a chance to hustle to the kitchen and throw a cheese sandwich together at record speed.

Although we've now had years of practice, our breakfast and lunch plans are not foolproof and we still find ourselves giggling and eye rolling with each other when Mother Hover catches us in her kitchen. Of course, none of us would ever mention to Mom that her actions are slightly

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