When Godzilla Attacks Dinner!

dancingwithalsandlife.blogspot.com

AI ART, “The Chaos”

Have you ever struggled to figure out what you wanted to make for dinner? Are you tired of whipping up the same humdrum recipes over and over again?

I know those thoughts have entered the repertoire of my brain waves on numerous occasions throughout my married life with children. Recipe fatigue and boredom definitely hit our home from time to time.

Recently, my husband and I decided to try something different. We purchased some fresh-baked haddock to make along with some yummy side dishes—garlic olive oil noodles and pan-seared fresh broccoli.

It sounded delicious, and I was looking forward to enjoying the meal that my husband had so tenderly taken the time to prepare, cook, and plate for us.

Everything was going perfectly.

Until…

GODZILLA STRUCK AGAIN!

Who’s Godzilla?

Godzilla is my Permobil motorized wheelchair, weighing in at more than 400 pounds—not including my own body weight!

So here I am, rolling up to the table, completely excited to share this wonderful meal with my husband.

And then, in the blink of an eye, my hand on the joystick went completely berserk.

Pushing.

Shoving.

Flipping forward.

And absolutely no ability to stop it or lift my hand off the controller.

My wheelchair has a feature that allows me to maneuver up to tables, and then my joystick will give-way to the side which enables me to sit closer to the table, sometimes called table assist, but this time the table assist definitely did not work in my favor.

As soon as my husband put the plates on the table, Godzilla kept moving.

It moved the chairs.

It pushed the table.

And then…

THE WHOLE TABLE FLIPPED OVER!

Everything went flying.

The fresh-baked haddock, the garlic noodles, the broccoli—all of it ended up on the floor and against the wall.

And let’s not forget the furniture that got caught in the chaos.

I kept yelling, “I can’t stop Godzilla!”

But everything happened so quickly. When you have force on the controller combined with muscles that aren’t cooperating, it’s incredibly difficult to react quickly enough to stop what is happening.

I literally started to sob.

My husband got my hand off the controller, moved me safely to the side, and began assessing the disaster that was now lying right before his eyes.

He tried to console me, but honestly, it was pretty hopeless at that point.

I was too far gone.

The tears just kept coming.

And along with the tears came that horrible feeling of being completely out of control.

My mind was saying, “Just take your hand off the controller!”

But my brain and my muscles don’t always communicate the way they are supposed to.

And that’s when the negative thoughts started rolling in.

My existence is nothing more than a headache to others.

I’m useless.

I hate that this is the lot I’ve been given in life.

I feel terrible that my husband took the time to cook, and I just threw everything on the floor—including half the dining room!

Sure, I can write about it now and laugh about it.

But it was no laughing matter in that moment.

My husband knew it, too. He could see that I was on an emotional roller coaster and there was no stopping it.

He is incredibly kind and patient with me.

But he also knows that sometimes a little humor can help.

So he looked me dead in the eye and said:

“Honey, if you really didn’t want fish tonight, why didn’t you just tell me instead of ripping the joint to pieces?”

Yep.

That’s my husband.

😂

Sometimes we have to laugh because otherwise we will just break down and cry.

The Story Isn’t Really About the Fish

There are times when our life gets completely topsy-turvy, and I’m frustrated by incidents like this.

But give me a few days, and I’m usually able to look back at the situation, find the humor in the aftermath, and somehow turn it into a blog post.

That’s what I do.

But here’s where the story really begins.

It’s not about Godzilla flipping the table.

It’s not about the chairs.

It’s not even about the baked haddock lying on the floor.

It’s about the beautiful people who surround us and provide meals for us on an ongoing basis.

Those meals are such a gift.

Because of those meals, my husband can typically heat, eat, and serve something quickly so we can get on with our evening routine—bathing me, taking care of my personal needs, getting me positioned properly, and all the other things that come with my daily care.

So when Godzilla decided to flip the table and send our haddock flying, my husband didn’t have to worry about starting dinner all over again.

He simply pulled something out of the freezer, threw it in the microwave, and within less than five minutes, we had a second meal on the table.

Godzilla may have won round one, but dinner was back on!

A Meal Is More Than a Meal

This blog is dedicated to the community of individuals who so lovingly and kindly provide meals for us.

You may think you’re simply dropping off dinner.

But what you’re really giving us is time.

Time that my husband doesn’t have to spend figuring out what to make.

Time he doesn’t have to spend shopping for ingredients.

Time he doesn’t have to spend preparing and cooking a meal after working a full day.

And that little bit of extra time means we can focus on something other than responsibilities and my daily care.

Maybe we can go for a walk when the weather is warm.

Maybe we can watch television together.

Maybe we can go see a baseball game.

Maybe we can go out with friends when we have the energy.

Or maybe we simply sit together and enjoy a quiet evening.

Those meals give us back something that has become incredibly valuable in our lives:

Time together.

So to everyone who has provided a meal to us, whether you realize it or not, thank you.

Thank you for feeding us.

Thank you for thinking of us.

Thank you for making our lives just a little bit easier.

And thank you for giving my husband one less responsibility to carry.

If you know someone whose life is a little topsy-turvy, don’t underestimate the simple act of providing a meal.

It can mean more than you’ll ever know.

As for the baked haddock?

Well…

It’ll have to be on the menu another night.

Hopefully, Godzilla won’t be invited to dinner.

Until next time…

Keep dancing with life, one day at a time.

-Stacy

February 2026