I’m No Longer Cooking for Everyone!

I’m done cooking for everyone! Just for me and Anna, I said, dropping my voice a notch.

Why on earth? Mike snapped, his eyebrows shooting up. Because in our family, from what Ive gathered, everyone looks after themselves. So live that way!

Mom, wheres my breakfast? Emily burst into the bedroom without knocking, flinging her bag over her shoulder. Im going to be late for school!

I tried to sit up, but my head spun. The thermometer read 38.7°C, my throat felt like a furnace, and my chest rasped.

Emily, Im feeling weak Grab something from the fridge, I croaked.

There’s nothing in there! Only those little yoghurts for the baby! she huffed, standing in the doorway with her arms folded. Youre always thinking about her!

A wail floated up from the nursery. Lucy stirred awake. I forced myself out of bed, my legs wobbling, circles dancing before my eyes.

Mike, wheres my bluestriped shirt? he shouted from the bathroom. In the wardrobe, right?

Not there! Did you iron it yesterday?

I pressed my back against the wall. Yesterday I’d spent the whole day running a fever, trying to look after the younger one.

No, I didnt get a chance, I admitted.

Blimey! Ive got a meeting! Mike growled, slamming the bathroom door.

Emilys sobs grew louder. I scooped Lucy into my arms, and the little girl clung to me, sniffling.

Mom! Emily yelled from the kitchen. Theres nothing at all! Not even bread!

The moneys on the table, go and buy something decent.

Im not stepping into the shop! Ive got a test! And honestly, feeding the family is your job! she snapped.

I slipped back to the kitchen, still holding Lucy, and yanked a pack of mince from the freezer, dropping a pan on the hob.

And boil the pasta! Emily ordered, eyes glued to her phone.

While breakfast was simmering, Mike shuffled out of the bedroom in a crumpled shirt.

Had to wear this. I look like a tramp. Thanks a lot! he muttered.

I stayed silent. Talking hurt, and I had no energy left for explanations.

Claires birthday is today, Emily said, piling pasta onto her plate. Ill swing by after school and be back late.

Emily, I feel awful. Can you stay home and look after Lucy? I asked.

Sure, later! Ive been waiting six months for this party! And its not my problem, thats yours! She snatched her bag and bolted out, slamming the door behind her.

Mike kept eating, scrolling through news on his phone.

Mike, could you get home earlier? Im really unwell.

I cant. Weve got a corporate event after work. You know how it is.

But Im sick

Just have something. Paracetamol or whatever. Youre not a bedridden case. Hang on.

He brushed a damp, sweaty hand against my temple and walked off.

I was left alone with threeyearold Lucy, who kept demanding attention, food, and games. I kept doing everything automatically, feeling my strength drain away.

By lunchtime my fever had nudged up to 39°C. I fed Lucy enough, tucked her into bed, and collapsed onto the sofa. My head thumped, my heart hammered.

My phone buzzed. A message from Emily: Mom, can you send money for Claires gift? Urgent!

I didnt reply. I couldnt even lift the phone.

That evening Mike came home first, a grin on his face and a bag of shoptots in hand.

Picked up fizzy drinks and crisps! Footballs on tonight! he plonked onto the couch and flicked the TV on.

Mike, could you look after Anna, please? I cant get up.

What, are you that sick? he finally glanced at me. Why are you so red?

My temperature is still high. All day

If it gets worse, call an ambulance. Wheres Anna?

In the cot. Shell wake soon enough.

Alright, Ill wait. Just let her wake up first.

Anna stirred half an hour later, whining for mum. Mike reluctantly tore his eyes away from the screen, scooped her up.

Why are you crying? Go to dad!

But the little one clung to me, wailing even louder. Mike looked lost.

Nora, she wants you!

Give her a biscuit from the cupboard and some juice.

Where? I cant find them!

I staggered to the kitchen, the world tilting, barely managing to grab a biscuit and pour juice into a sippy cup. Lucy calmed down a bit.

Emily returned around midnight. I still couldnt sleep; the fever kept me awake.

Why didnt you answer my message? Emily demanded from the doorway. I had to borrow money from Claires mum! Shame!

Emily, Ive been running a fortydegree fever all day

And what? Couldnt you pick up the phone? Two seconds! she snapped.

The next morning Mike nudged me awake, rubbing my shoulder.

Nora, get up! Ive got to head to work, and Anna has rehearsal!

The fever finally dipped, but the weakness lingered. I got up, bundled Lucy, and started dressing.

Breakfast? Mike asked.

Make it yourself. Im taking Anna to nursery.

Me? I cant! Ive no time!

Youll learn.

Something in his tone made Mike fall silent. He muttered something under his breath and drifted to the kitchen.

When I came back from the nursery, the house was a mess: dirty dishes, scattered clothes, crumpled bedding. Usually Id dive straight into cleaning, but not today.

I took a quick shower, brewed a cup of tea, and went to bed.

That night the family gathered around an empty table for dinner.

Mum, whats for dinner? Emily asked.

I dont know. Whatever you make will do.

What do you mean? she squinted.

Exactly what I said. Im not cooking for everyone any more. Just for me and Anna.

Why not? Mike whined.

Because in our family, as I see it, everyone looks after themselves. So live that way!

Nora, whats this about? Mike tried to hug me, but I stepped back.

Im tired of being the servant! Yesterday you both proved Im just freerange staff. No pay.

Emily, Im sorry! she lied.

No, you didnt apologise. And dad didnt either. Nobody even asked how I felt.

Fine, sorry! Emily muttered. Now are we supposed to starve?

The fridge is full, the hands are here. Cook something.

The first week was hell. Emily threw tantrums, Mike grumbled and slammed doors. I held my ground, cooking only for myself and Lucy, washing just their laundry, cleaning only the nursery.

Mum, my jeans are dirty! Everythings filthy! Emily complained.

The washing machines there. Detergents in the cupboard.

I dont know how to use it!

Youll learn. Instructions are on the lid.

Mike kept going to work in wrinkled shirts, eating at the café. Money evaporated fast.

Nora, this is madness! Eating out every day!

Cook at home. Itll be cheaper.

I cant!

YouTubes got your back. A million recipes there.

The house descended into chaos: dishes piled up, floors went unwashed, dust settled. I saw it all but didnt intervene, keeping only the nursery tidy.

Two weeks later Emily tried to boil pasta. She forgot the salt and overcooked it into mush.

Mum, help me!

No. Figure it out yourself.

Youre a mother! You should!

My duty is to look after the kids, not to be your personal chef. Bread, milk, cereals are all there. You wont starve.

Mike attempted scrambled eggs. He burnt the first batch, then managed something edible on the second try.

Look, Nora! I made eggs!

I nodded and went back to my book, receiving no praise, no fanfare.

Three weeks in, the flat looked like a dump. Emily wept over a mountain of laundry.

Mum, please! One last time! Ive got nothing to wear to school!

You were home all day yesterday. You could have washed.

I did my homework!

And Im working remotely, cooking, cleaning, looking after Anna, and still managing everything.

Youre an adult!

And you want adult privileges? Staying out late, spending money on fun? Then start acting like an adult.

By the end of the month the rebellion had cracked. Emily learned to wash, make simple meals, and tidy up after herself. Mike not only mastered eggs but also pasta and even a basic soup.

One evening I came home with Anna from the park. The kitchen table was set, the air scented with food. Mike and Emily stood there, looking a bit smug.

Mum, we made dinner, Emily whispered. I did the salad, dad baked the chicken.

Thank you, I said calmly.

Please forgive us, Mum, Emily lowered her eyes. We really didnt get how hard it was for you.

We wont do this again, Mike added. Honestly. Well help.

I looked at them both. They hadnt turned into perfect angels, but the fear of being left alone with a mountain of dishes and crumpled shirts lingered deep.

And remember, I said, Im not a servant. Im a person. A family member. And I deserve to be treated as such.

We get it, Emily nodded. Really, we do.

Dinner conversation was quiet, but the atmosphere had shifted. Emily cleared the table herself; Mike washed the dishes. Small things, but for me it felt like a victory.

Later, tucking Anna into bed, I whispered, Youll grow up independent, love. You wont think the world owes you anything, and youll find a partner wholl wash his own plate without being reminded.

Anna smiled sleepily, hugging my neck. In the bedroom, Mike waited with a mug of tea.

Here, your favourite honey tea, he said.

Thanks.

Nora, would you really leave us?

I stayed quiet.

I wouldnt. But I couldnt keep living the way I was. Enough. Im also a human, and I deserve respect.

We really understand now.

Well see, I sipped the tea. Time will tell.

And time did show it. The family never became perfect. Emily sometimes forgot to rinse her plate, Mike occasionally left his shirt hanging. But the main thing changed respect.

Now they saw me not as unpaid help but as a wife, a mother, a woman who can get tired, fall ill, and need a break.

It was the start of a new chapter, where everyones responsible for themselves but still lends a hand. Where a simple thank you follows a homecooked meal. Where I can lie down in the afternoon without anyone fussing over a missed lunch.

A tiny revolution in our little household, and it was exactly what we needed.

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