I never thought I’d be so worked up over eggs, but here we are.
Egg prices are crazy right now. If you’ve been to a grocery store lately, you know they might as well be a luxury item. But in our house, eggs aren’t just some random breakfast staple—they’re essential. We have two growing toddlers who need proper nutrition, and eggs are a big part of their diet.
So when my husband, Jordan, told me we needed to cut back on groceries and that we should skip buying 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.
The Discovery
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. Oh, 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’s 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.”
Jordan sighed like I was being unreasonable.
“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 got the boys into the car, and we went to pick up the eggs ourselves. I added chocolate bars, fresh fruit, yogurt, and milkshakes—things we could definitely afford. No big deal.
Or so I thought.
The Fridge Full of Lies
That weekend, we visited Jordan’s mother, Carolyn. I didn’t mind Carolyn too much. She generally stayed in her lane and didn’t interfere with how I raised my boys. So when she asked us to bring the kids over, I agreed. Since she’s not the kind of grandma who cooks for her grandkids, I packed them lunch boxes.
When we got to her house, I went to put the lunches into the fridge. And that’s when I saw it.
A fridge full of eggs.
I’m talking fully stocked. Cartons stacked upon each other. My mother-in-law was either preparing for the apocalypse or about to make omelets for a hundred people.
My stomach dropped.
“Wow, Carolyn!” I said, forcing a smile. “Where did you find so many eggs? I swear, I can’t even find a dozen at a decent price these days!”
She beamed, completely oblivious to the war breaking out in my brain. Jordan and I were on opposing ends, each preparing for battle.
“Oh, Jules,” she said. “I know the struggle. But Jordan got these for me. He’s such a sweetheart! He brought them over yesterday so that I wouldn’t have to go looking.”
I turned to Jordan, who was raiding his mother’s snack cupboard. The same man who told me eggs were too expensive for our children had the nerve to look guilty.
Not here, Julia. Not here and not now.
I knew Jordan. If I called him out in front of his mom, he’d go straight into defensive mode. Carolyn would rush to his side, making excuses, and suddenly, I’d be the bad guy.
So instead, I smiled.
“Wow, Jordan, that was really thoughtful of you!”
His shoulders relaxed. He actually thought he had dodged a bullet.
Oh, you poor, naïve fool.
Operation Priorities
Monday morning dawned, and Jordan sat at the table expecting his usual eggs, toast, and sausages before work.
Instead?
I made him a single slice of dry toast and a cup of black coffee. No sugar.
“Uh… where’s breakfast, Jules?” he asked, blinking at his plate.
I gave him my sweetest smile.
“Oh, honey,” I said. “I had to cut back on groceries. Eggs are too expensive, remember? And honestly, so is milk. And sugar. Don’t get me started on sausages.”
His face twitched.
“Julia,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Come on! That was about the kids, not me!”
I tilted my head.
“Well, if our own children don’t need eggs, Jordan, I don’t think you need them either.”
By the fifth sad, eggless morning, he finally snapped.
“Okay, okay! I get it!” he said.
I looked up, feigning innocence.
“Get what, Jordan?” I asked, making myself a cup of tea.
“I shouldn’t have bought eggs for my mom while telling you to cut back. It was selfish, okay? But when my mom called, I just… I couldn’t say no.”
I leaned back, arms crossed.
“Jordan, do you know what’s worse than telling your mom ‘no’? Telling your children that their father wouldn’t even buy food for them.”
His gaze snapped up to meet mine.
“I didn’t think of it like that.”
“Well, you should,” I sighed. “I know money is tight. But we’re a team, Jordan. You don’t get to decide these things alone, and you damn sure don’t put your mom before your kids.”
He swallowed hard, nodding slowly.
“You’re right,” he admitted.
I sat across from him, reaching for his hand.
“Next time? Talk to me. No more cutting back on food. No more making me the bad guy. We’ll figure it out together.”
Jordan’s fingers tightened around mine.
“Together,” he replied.
The Aftermath
I didn’t think much about the conversation after that. Things went back to normal. Jordan bought the groceries, the kids got their eggs, and I stopped serving him his ‘budget-friendly’ dry toast breakfasts.
But then, last Friday, something unexpected happened.
I opened the fridge to grab some eggs for the boys’ breakfast and nearly dropped the carton in shock. Instead of the usual two or three cartons, there were six.
I turned to my husband, who was standing by the coffee maker, scrolling through his phone.
“Jordan? All of this?” I asked. “Did you rob a farm or something?”
He glanced up, smirking.
“I just figured that I’d stock up, you know? Make sure that we don’t run out again.”
I narrowed my eyes as I popped some bread into the toaster.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“You made your point, Jules,” he said. “Some things are non-negotiable. Like food. For our kids. And honestly? I like eggs too.”
“Look at you, Jordan, learning and growing.”
My husband laughed loudly.
And just like that, we were okay again.