Monday Night Dinner

I just came back from my hometown Taiwan earlier this month. The never-long-enough vacation was filled by eating two breakfast daily (which include a stuffed rice ball with soy milk first, and a sandwich with barley milk later), chatting with family, lunch with stay-at-home moms, roaming the streets, random snack from street vendors, reading at Eslite bookstore, dinner with friends who work WAY too hard, shopping at night markets, random dessert from street vendors, and the fabulousness of being alone. Oh, I almost forgot. There was also, a bottle or two, of the Taiwanese Golden Label Beer in between the ongoing eating.

(Note: Teachers and Moms are human, too, especially a teacher mom. I do drink, appropriately and occasionally.)

How did I get to do all that being a mom of two little kids? Good question. I didn't take them with me! Yes, I can see some of you out there rolling your eyes at me. How could you!? Well, my big guy said ok and my in-laws took over the job of being the cook, the cleaner, the driver, and the nanny. Thanks to them, I got to be just me for two weeks.

If you are like me, moving to a foreign country at a young adult age, you miss the food you grow up with. I sure can find all sorts of Chinese cuisine here in Cali. But the food just doesn't taste right. Adding the long drive to the restaurant and the lack of variety on the menu, orange chicken and beef broccoli just don't sound very appetizing at any time. In Taipei, three meals and two snacks a day, I never had the chance to eat the same thing twice. The fact that I don't dare to drive in Taipei didn't stop me from eating. Any street vendors and restaurants are accessible with the MRT system or just a cab away. The convenience and the scrumptious food resulted in the unwanted 5 lbs on my already hanging belly. But it was all worth it!

Back from my personal salvation, here I am, picking my son up from preschool with my daughter in the back carseat. Turning at the corner of my street, my 20 months old daughter with limited verbal ability excitedly shouted out, "Mein Mein! " (it means noodles in Mandarin) and pointed at the All You Can Eat soup and salad place. My son then shouted, " Can we go there for dinner? Is it Monday today?"  To my son, the 4 years old nonstop-talking boy, Monday doens't mean anything but dinner at Souplantation/Sweet Tomato. Every Monday. Why? How? When did we start this routine? I don't quite remember. But my big guy and the kids love the cream of mushroom soup, the fake-cheese-tasting Mac&Cheese, and the warm blueberry muffins. So I'm relieved from dinner making every Monday.

To tell the truth, 12 years ago, I could never, ever, imagine eating at the same restaurant, or even the same food EVERY Monday. I would open my eyes wide and said, "What? Why would anyone want to do that? There are just so many other things out there to eat!". But magically, I found peace and comfort in our little routine. I know I will see my big guy talking loudly with his mouth full and my little ones laughing loudly with ice cream mustaches. The leafy veggies on my plate is grass compared to the spicy hot pot I had in Taipei. But somehow, in a weird way, I kind of look forward to chewing grass every Monday.

I guess it's not a bad thing after all, being happily domesticated.