I am so tired of dinner.
Not eating it. Planning it, buying it, cooking it, then hearing four separate complaints like I run a restaurant with no tips.
One kid hates onions. One suddenly hates chicken. My husband says anything with sauce is “a lot.” Yesterday I made plain tacos and someone still asked if we had pizza.
So tonight I made myself eggs and toast and told everybody else to figure it out.
They acted like I had abandoned the family on a mountain.
There is food here. They all have hands. Two of them can drive.
Would it be terrible if I stopped cooking for a week, because I am about one complaint away from serving cereal forever.
Now the comments get a turn.
Read the room, state your case, and try not to become the reason the next submission exists.