Taking Orders

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Wednesday - July 01, 2009

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If I ever had the honor to meet the Dalai Lama to ask a single question, I know what that question would be. I know you’re thinking it would be something like “What is the meaning of life?” But actually I would rather ask, “Whom should I listen to, my mom or my wife?”

The answer to that one could cause his head to explode, no disrespect intended. Either that or his answer would be way over my head, “Listen to both and obey neither.”

I’ve mentioned before that my wife and my mom get along great. In fact, they were friends long before I started going out with my wife. I guess that’s a good thing, although in a disagreement with either of them, I’m on my own. In other words, they back up each other.

But when we go out to dinner together, I’m caught between the two of them because I’m kind of required to make a choice of whom I’m going to appease - my mom or my wife. If this happened only once, that’s one thing, but this happens every time we go out to dinner.

The other week we were all at a nice restaurant. Naturally, I sat next to my wife and my mom sat across from me. I started to have an anxiety attack in anticipation of what was about to come. It was time to order our food.

As she has a million times before, my mom looked at her menu and then asked me what I was going to have. Why that is relevant, I don’t know. Then she said what she always says, “How about if I order this and we can share? I don’t think I can eat this all by myself.”

Like most men, I don’t like sharing food, so I’ll order what I want to eat and my mom will make her order, then during the meal force half of it onto my plate.

My wife will then whisper in my ear, “You’re not going to eat all that food are you?” Without thinking of the consequences, I reply, “But my mom gave it to me and I can’t waste it.” My wife appears disgusted not at my mom, but at the fact that I’m acting like a 5-year-old kid.

By that time, I’d actually lost my appetite and sat there while everyone ordered dessert. That’s when I overheard my wife tell our 20-year-old son, “How about if I order this and we can share?”