I have to ask, at what point did a dinner invitation stop being a gift and become a job?

By @gabemm · Family

We invited our kids and their spouses over for a nice Sunday dinner, just like we've done for 30 years. Next thing I know, my daughter-in-law is asking if the chicken is organic and my son is asking if I can make a separate gluten-free dessert. I'm starting to think I should have just sent them a gift card to a restaurant.

The full story

My wife and I have been hosting Sunday dinners for as long as I can remember. It started when our kids were little, a way to make sure we all sat down together at least once a week before the chaos of school and work started up again. We kept it going when they went to college and would come home on weekends, and we were so happy to continue the tradition when they got married and started their own lives. We love having them, we love seeing them, and we love cooking for them. But lately, it's all gotten so... complicated. It used to be simple. We'd make a roast, some potatoes, a vegetable, and a simple cake or a pie for dessert. Everyone ate what was on the table, and they were happy to get a free, home-cooked meal. Now, it feels like we're running a short-order restaurant with a very demanding clientele. This past Sunday was the tipping point. A few days before, my daughter-in-law texted my wife to ask about the menu. She wanted to know if we were using organic, free-range chicken. My wife, who is the sweetest person on earth and buys whatever chicken is on sale at the grocery store, didn't even know how to respond. Then my son called me, asking if we could be sure to have a gluten-free dessert option because his wife was trying to cut back. Another of our kids has a new lactose issue, and her husband is now a vegetarian. I found myself in the kitchen juggling four different meal variations. My wife was trying to figure out how to make a flourless chocolate torte while also making a regular apple pie. I had a small pan of roasted vegetables with no oil for one person, a separate batch of tofu for another, and the main roast chicken I'd been planning all along. It was stressful. It wasn't fun. It felt like work. I miss the days when you just showed up, said thank you, and ate what you were given. Am I just an old man yelling at a cloud, or is it fair to expect your family to just eat the food you cook for them?

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