I never thought eggs would be the thing that pushed me over the edge, but here we are.
Egg prices have been ridiculous lately. If you’ve been to the grocery store recently, you know eggs are practically a luxury item. But in our house? They aren’t just some random breakfast food. We have two growing toddlers, and eggs are a major part of their diet.
So when my husband, Jordan, casually mentioned 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, after what I did next, Jordan will never forget his priorities again.
It all started last Monday when I called Jordan while he was on his way home from work.
“Hey, honey,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Can you grab some eggs on your way home? The kids are almost out, and you know how they are about breakfast. Maybe some bananas too?”
There was a pause. I heard the car radio click off. Then, with the audacity of a man who had clearly lost his mind, he said, “Julia, have you seen the price of eggs lately? We don’t need them that bad. The boys will be fine without them. Elijah doesn’t even like eggs; he just eats them because he’s used to the routine. And Levi? He’ll eat anything. We should start cutting back on groceries.”
Cut back? On food? For our kids?
My grip on the phone tightened. “We’re not cutting back on nutrition, Jordan. Maybe you should cancel your gym subscription instead. You don’t use it anyway.”
Jordan let out a long, exaggerated sigh, like I was the one being unreasonable.
“It’s just eggs, Julia. Give them more fruit or something.”
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to yell.
Alright, Jordan. You want to play the “save money” game? Fine. Let’s play.
I loaded the boys into the car, drove to the store, and bought the eggs myself. And not just eggs—I grabbed chocolate bars, fresh fruit, yogurt, and even a couple of milkshakes. If we were saving money, I figured I might as well get creative.
It was no big deal. Or so I thought.
Until the weekend.
That Saturday, we visited Jordan’s mom, Carolyn. I had no problem with her—she didn’t interfere in our lives, and she wasn’t one of those mother-in-laws who acted like she was still raising her son. So when she asked us to bring the kids over, I packed them some lunch boxes, knowing she wasn’t the type to cook.
But when I opened her fridge to put the sandwiches away, my stomach dropped.
Eggs.
Carton after carton, stacked on top of each other like Carolyn was preparing for an apocalypse. More eggs than I had ever seen in my life.
I swallowed my shock and forced a smile. “Wow, Carolyn! Where did you find so many eggs? I swear, I can barely get a dozen these days.”
Carolyn beamed, completely oblivious to the internal war I was fighting.
“Oh, Jules, I know! Eggs are impossible to find at a decent price! But Jordan got these for me. He’s such a sweetheart! Brought them over yesterday so I wouldn’t have to go looking.”
My stomach twisted.
I turned and found Jordan helping himself to his mother’s snack cupboard. The same man who told me eggs were “too expensive” for our own children.
And he had the nerve to look guilty.
I exhaled slowly.
Not here, Julia. Not in front of Carolyn.
I knew how this would go. If I called him out now, he’d get defensive. Carolyn would rush to his side, making excuses for him, and somehow, I’d end up looking like the villain.
So instead, I smiled.
“Wow, Jordan, that was really thoughtful of you!”
His shoulders relaxed. He actually thought he was off the hook.
Oh, you poor, naive fool.
The entire ride home, I didn’t say a word.
Not because I was fuming.
Because I was calculating.
And by Monday morning?
Operation Priorities was in full effect.
Jordan sat at the table, expecting his usual eggs, toast, and sausages before work.
Instead?
One slice of dry toast. One cup of black coffee. No sugar.
“Uh… where’s breakfast?” he asked, blinking at his sad plate.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, honey. I had to cut back on groceries. Eggs are too expensive, remember? So is milk. And sugar. And sausages. How are we supposed to live?”
His face twitched. “Julia, come on. That was about the kids, not me.”
I tilted my head. “Well, if our kids don’t need eggs, Jordan, I don’t think you do either.”
The next morning? Same breakfast.
And the next.
And the next.
By the fifth morning, Jordan finally snapped.
“Okay, okay! I get it!” he groaned.
I looked up, feigning innocence. “Get what?”
He sighed. “I shouldn’t have bought eggs for my mom while telling you to cut back. It was selfish, okay? I just… when my mom asked, I couldn’t say no. Can I please have eggs now?”
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Oh, I don’t know, Jordan. I was thinking of sending the eggs I just bought to your mom. Since, you know, she’s the priority here.”
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Alright, alright! I messed up. I should have put the kids first.”
I let the silence stretch.
Then, I got up, grabbed a single egg from the fridge, and placed it on his plate.
“There. That’s all you get today, Jordan. Maybe tomorrow, if I feel like it, you’ll get two.”
His jaw dropped. “Julia! What am I supposed to do with a raw egg?!”
“Oh, hush. Figure it out. Be grateful I didn’t send it to Carolyn.”
That evening, Jordan finally admitted why he did it.
“It’s not just about the eggs,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Work’s been rough. They’re making cuts, and I keep thinking… what if I’m next? I’ve been trying to save wherever I can.”
I sighed. “You never told me that.”
“Because I didn’t want to stress you out. I thought I could just handle it.”
I studied him. “Jordan, I get it. But do you know what’s worse than telling your mom ‘no’? Telling your kids their dad wouldn’t buy food for them.”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
“Well, you should. No more making these decisions alone. We’re a team.”
He nodded. “You’re right.”
The next morning, Jordan had eggs.
But the real shock?
A week later, I opened the fridge and found six cartons stacked neatly.
I turned to Jordan. “Did you rob a farm?”
He smirked. “Just making sure we never run out again.”
I grinned. “Look at you, learning and growing.”
Jordan laughed. And just like that, we were okay again.
