What Happened to the Meat?

I am relieved I figured it out. I was getting scared it was me.

I thought I had it for sure.

I’d get in the car and see the big E for empty, and ask myself, “_Didn’t I just fill the tank?_”

When I’d open up the pots and pans drawer in the kitchen, I’d see my white measuring cups in there. And not just in there, but DUMPED in there, scattered – like I had lost consciousness mid-chore.

Hunting around for juice glasses became a daily part of my life. Are they here? Did I leave them in the bathroom? I always put them by the larger tumblers, but where are they now? And why aren’t they where I remember putting them?

I am losing my mind.

I open drawers and say to my kids, “I put the can opener in with the pot holders?”

And then I remember whose turn it was that day to put away the dishes.

Whose turn it was to fill the gas tank.

Who likes to shove things in drawers then slam it – boom! – shut.

My teens.

When my teens empty the dishwasher, it’s like watching the loudest silent “I don’t give a s**t” in action. They stash things away in places that later make me feel like I’m living with Alzheimer’s. They do things that make me question my faculties.

Like tonight when I made meatloaf. They love my meatloaf, that’s why I make it. Let me give you this freebie – I use apricot jam. It holds the ground meat together nicely and gives the baked loaf a sweet, irresistible aftertaste. Try it.

I make this (requested by them) double batch of meatloaf early in the afternoon, because I know they both come home crazed with hunger after their two hour swim practice. At 3:00 pm, I pop the meatloaf in for an hour, set the timer, run and get my one non-teenager to bring home from school, pull out the meatloaf at 4:00 pm and set it atop the stove to let the apricot jam juices circulate and render the meat juicy sweet. By 5:00 pm when the teens are home, we’ll have a complete meal — mashed potatoes, salad, and all. Mmmm.Mm.

Only thing left to do is let the barbeque sauce simmer on the stove while I start some laundry and wait for everyone to get home. But when I walk back into the kitchen, there is no meatloaf in my pyrex loaf pan.

And then it begins…

My line of confused self-questioning. Did I make a double batch of meatloaf? I know I made a double batch of meatloaf. Could have sworn I did the recipe x two. What happened to the meatloaf???

Apparently, my boys had come home early while I was sorting and folding, the washer and dryer noisily running, and the both of them had helped themselves to one-half each of the browned brick slab.

Never mind the butter and garlic smothered potatoes, Mom. Forget the crisp green salad with cherry tomatoes. Just a fistful of meat is all us boys need.

Have I lost my mind? Do I have early Alzheimer’s? Didn’t I make meat for tonight?

Where is the meat???

Before you begin your own down on your hands and knees APB alert for missing items and misplaced coffee mugs, ask yourself: Are there teenagers in your house?

I hope for your sake the answer to all your mystically-placed and combobulated items is a relief-filled sigh of ‘_yes._’

And if you need me to commiserate, I’ll be here, down on the kitchen floor, wondering why in Sam Hill I would jam the knives and forks in between the cutting boards rack.

Alexandra writes of life as the mother of three boys on her personal blog, Good Day Regular People. She is also currently the co-producer and co-director of Milwaukee’s “Listen To Your Mother.” .