Living today — but cooking for yesterday

You've heard the story, right?

The story about the woman who cuts both ends off the roast before she cooks it for Sunday dinner?

When a guest asks her why she does this, the woman replies, "Because my mother always did it."

When asked why she cuts off the ends of the roast, the woman's mother replies, "Because MY mother always did it."

When asked why she cuts off the ends of the roast, the woman's grandmother replies, "Because I have a small pot. DUH!"

I thought about this story the other evening when I was in the kitchen cooking up a big old happy pile of steaming spaghetti for dinner. Why was I cooking up SO MUCH spaghetti?

Hello! Don't you know? I HAVE FIVE KIDS. Man children. Who eat everything in sight like a big old happy cloud of scary locusts.

Their friends do, too. Even the girls.

So are you kidding me? We totally need a COSTCO truck full of food delivered to this house. Every. Single. Day.

Besides, spaghetti is super easy to make. Also quick. You can have a meal for an army of scary locust boys (and their mandibles) (also friends) in 20 minutes or less. And that's a good thing when you have a billion ball games to go to every week.

Didn't I tell you that part? Those boys all play soccer! Baseball! Lacrosse! Dude, I am just running around this valley like crazy, trying to squeeze in all those games.

We have paper routes, too. Like I always say, kids should have paper routes so the mom can learn some responsibility. Same with dogs, of which we have three, including my mother's cocker spaniel. (Dogs are also excellent for teaching the mom some more responsibility.)

And then there are our jobs. My part-time jobs. My husband's huge full-time job.

Oh yeah and did I mention he's the bishop of our ward?

IS IT ANY WONDER THAT I AM STANDING HERE IN THE KITCHEN WHIPPING UP SO MUCH SPAGHETTI?

Except … my life these days doesn't look like the life I just described. It used to, but now? Not so much.

My husband isn't the bishop. I don't have paper routes. Just one son lives at home.

And we're down to two dogs, although one of them weighs 175 pounds, which equals 20 of my mother's cocker spaniel.

Except that now she has a poodle.

In other words, my life has changed DRAMATICALLY. The only thing that hasn't changed is the image I have of it.

Has this ever happened to you? Your life changes but somehow you keep responding like you did before?

Which is why you make too much spaghetti?

Here's what I think.

I need a psychic makeover. I need to update my self-image to match my new reality. Otherwise I'm like the Weight Watchers graduate who keeps wearing a size 12 even though she's now a size 6. (Not that I'm a size 6.) (But you know what I mean.)

e-mail: acannon@desnews.com