Paper Vs. What Makes Mom Happy . . . and the Kiss of Death

This involves Dinnerware.

And a teenager's dirty bedroom. . .

First, Dinnerware.

As in, to use it or not to use it. And after that, where is the glassware? And why is it not in the cupboard?

My husband swears by the paper plate, and on both end of the extremes. He will use a paper plate for a sandwich when a napkin will suffice.

Then he'll suggest paper plates for family gatherings, but he'll never win that war.

For now.

Not unless I'm deathly ill and having no business doing a family dinner anyway.

Since our family gatherings still are within a manageable number - 12 people plus 2 babies with their own baby stuff to eat and drink from - I still have enough glass plates and flatware to set a proper table.

And until the number exceeds the number of plates (they're Walmart glass plates, for Pete's sake, nothing fancy or too scary to use for fear of breakage!) I will sidestep the requests for paper. I do have a dishwasher, you know, and plenty of people helping to eat the meal are present, so I have help (in theory) cleaning up after the meal that I spent HOURS preparing. You gotta see where I'm coming from on this one, can't you?

The glassware is another story. I will go and buy a 16 piece set of heavy glassware, unbox it, rinse it, and place it in my cupboard. Such a beautiful sight! 16 matching glasses (or more, depending if I could find the same exact size and style as the last set).Then, before you can sing "Plug it in, plug it in. . . " (huh? Where'd that come from?) all but two or three have disappeared! No amount of begging and pleading and wondering where in the world did they all go to makes any difference.

No one takes them.

No one uses them.

They must have gotten broken.

(Funny, I didn't hear any glass shattering on the floor repeated times. All 13 must have crashed unluckily to the ground when I didn't happen to be home).

(This is what we are using now - daily use and the family dinners. Pathetic, huh? )

So, the dig begins. Lately they have been lounging about in an 'unnamed' daughter's windowsill, under the bed, and on the bookshelf in her closet

(it's a spot that can't be seen unless you push aside the clothes. There was a virtual penicillin farm going on in there. And a plot to kill me, apparently, since I am ALLERGIC to penicillin, though if in it's rawest form, how dangerous it is to me we'll never know! Gross!)

This reminds me of the day my dad got so fed up with the state of my room (when I was 13) that he scooped up everything into my unrolled sleeping bag; dishes, garbage, dirty clothes and underwear - everything, and dumped it out in front of me and my friends. That shamed me into keeping my room clean. (Good for you dad. It worked wonders for me).

Noelle, demonstrating my embarrasment

Wonder how my teenage daughter would take it?

About as well as I would take using paper plates for Christmas dinner, I think. . .