I sit on the couch, late in the evening, and grumble. I can’t believe no one said anything about dinner.

It’s not like I made a frozen pizza. I COOKED. I made something that required planning ahead. Then it took time to chop and stir. I kept the ingredients separated so the non-onion eaters would still enjoy the meal.

This time, I even remembered to make sweet tea and there is pudding chilling in the fridge.

No one even thanked me.

No one even said “it’s yummy mom”.

Not even the Mr.

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This is too often a reality at my house. I run through these thoughts when I make pancakes, or pie, or when ever I do anything even remotely above the basics.

Until tonight.

Tonight, I looked across the table to my husband. He was almost finished with his plate, eating a forkful of yellow carrots and smiling at Bubbagirl as she played with her ramen.

I said,

Thank you for dinner honey.

He replies,

“Um, sorry, yes…thanks for dinner honey.”

No sweetie, thank YOU for dinner.

He gave me the most confused look I’ve ever seen.

“YOU fixed dinner,” he said “why are you thanking me?”

If it weren’t for you, there would be no food for me to cook. Thank YOU for dinner honey. I appreciate what you do to provide for us.

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In my mind, I heard myself saying: If you feel unappreciated, stop and see first if you are being unappreciative.