Just in case I wasn't convinced that I have definitely become a Housewife with a capital "H," I clinched the title by making tuna loaf for dinner last night.
Yes. Tuna loaf. Apparently I'm not just a Housewife, but a Housewife who has time-traveled from the 1950s.
There is no denying the ease of the tuna loaf, and that's the main reason I made it. I like tuna patties, which are just a mixture of canned tuna, breadcrumbs, mayonnaise, mustard, and some eggs, fried in a little oil. But the frying is the difficulty now. Not only because I can't be standing at the stove monitoring anything in hot oil at 5:45 while also refereeing Cubby and Charlie's nightly war games and keeping Jack from burning himself on the woodstove or falling off a chair or something similarly one-year-old-specific, but because I can't even fit all the patties I would need to make in a skillet. Or even in two skillets.
When feeding six people, at least one of whom (A.) eats enough to be considered two people, individual patties of anything that can't be cooked en masse under the oven broiler just aren't feasible anymore.
I had already made the tuna mixture though, so I decided to just dump it all in a loaf pan and bake it. I didn't really know this was an actual thing other than laziness, but apparently, it is. It's a tuna loaf. Also, I could make baked potatoes with it, which was the lazy way out of the mashed potatoes I had originally planned on making.
I was kind of embarrassed to serve the tuna loaf--I mean, tuna loaf just doesn't sound at all appetizing--but not enough to not do it.
As we were eating, A. asked me, "So what inspired you to make tuna loaf? It's good, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't been made in the 21st century yet."
I told him about the lure of convenience and kind of apologized, at which point every single person at the table informed me that they loved the tuna loaf. Even Charlie, who doesn't love anything except ice cream.
Jack didn't say he loved it, but only because he can't talk and he was too busy cramming it in his mouth with both hands.
A. did say that while he enjoyed it once he started eating, his original reaction was, "Damn, that's a tuna loaf." And I must admit that tuna loaf just sounds like the punchline to a joke about bad food.
Whatever. Everyone ate it, I didn't have to stand over hot oil with a baby crawling around my feet, and it made enough for leftovers.
Next time I should make it while swilling gin and wearing pearls, right? Right.