When Julia’s husband, Jordan, refuses to buy eggs for their kids, she’s furious, but she lets it slide. Until she discovers he’s been secretly stocking his mother’s fridge instead. Now, Julia is determined to teach him a lesson in priorities, but what starts as petty revenge turns into a conversation that could change their marriage forever.
I never thought I’d be writing an entire rant about eggs, but here we are. Egg prices are actually insane right now! And if you’ve been to a grocery store lately, you know they might as well be a luxury item.
But for us? Eggs aren’t just some random breakfast staple. We have two toddlers, two growing kids who need eggs in their diet.
So, when my husband, Jordan, casually told me that we should cut back on groceries and skip the eggs, I was furious. But I let it slide. Until I found out where the eggs were actually going.
And let’s just say, Jordan won’t ever be confused about his priorities again. Last Monday, I called Jordan while he was on his way home from work. “Hey, honey,” I said.
“Can you grab a few dozen eggs? The kids are almost out, and you know they have a set breakfast routine. And please, grab some bananas too.”
There was a pause.
I heard Jordan turn off the radio. Then, the audacity. “Julia, have you seen the prices of eggs lately?
We don’t need them that bad. The boys can do without. Elijah doesn’t even like eggs; he is just used to the routine.
And Levi will eat anything. We should start cutting back on groceries.”
Cut back? On food?
For our toddlers? My grip tightened around my phone. “We’re not cutting back on basic nutrition for our kids, Jordan.
Maybe you should cancel your gym subscription. It’s not like you use it anyway.”
My husband sighed like I was being the unreasonable one. “It’s just eggs, Julia.
They’ll be fine. Give them more fruit or something.”
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from shouting or arguing further. You want to play the “we need to save money” game, Jordan?
Okay, let’s play, I thought. Instead, I got the boys into the car, and we went to pick up the eggs ourselves. I added chocolate bars and fresh fruit.
I even threw in some yogurt and bottles of milkshake. No big deal. Or so I thought.
That weekend, we visited Jordan’s mother, Carolyn. I didn’t mind Carolyn too much. She generally stayed in her lane as far as mothers-in-law go, and she didn’t try to micromanage how I raised my boys.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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