I never thought I’d be in a full-blown war over eggs, but here we are.
Egg prices are ridiculous right now! It’s like they’ve become a luxury item overnight. But in our house? Eggs aren’t just some random breakfast food. We have two toddlers, two growing boys who need proper nutrition.
So when my husband, Jordan, casually told me 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’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, holding back from shouting.
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. And while we were at it? 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 wasn’t overbearing, and she generally let me parent my kids without interference.
So when she asked us to bring the boys over for a visit, I agreed. Since she’s not the type of grandma who cooks for her grandkids, I packed them lunch boxes.
When we got to her house, I went to put the lunch boxes into the fridge. I mean, who wants to eat room-temperature ham and cheese sandwiches?
And that’s when I saw it.
A fridge full of eggs.
I’m talking fully stocked. Cartons stacked on top of each other like she was preparing for the apocalypse or about to host a massive brunch.
I stared, my brain trying to process what I was seeing.
“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 mind. 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.”
My stomach dropped.
I turned to Jordan, who was raiding his mother’s snack cupboard. This man—this man who told me eggs were too expensive for our children—had the nerve to look guilty.
I exhaled slowly.
Not here, Julia. Not now.
If I called him out in front of his mom, he’d go straight into defensive mode. Carolyn would jump to his defense, 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, naive fool.
The entire ride home, I was silent.
I wasn’t fuming. I was calculating.
And by Monday morning?
Operation Priorities was in full effect.
Monday morning, Jordan sat at the table expecting his usual breakfast: eggs, toast, and sausages.
Instead?
I served 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. 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 own children don’t need eggs, Jordan, I don’t think you need them either.”
He sighed and took a bite of his pathetic, eggless toast.
For the next four mornings, he had the same sad breakfast.
There were eggs in the fridge. If Jordan hadn’t been so lazy, he could have found them. He could have made his own breakfast. He could have fixed this himself.
But he didn’t. Because that was Jordan—lazy and selfish.
By the fifth morning, he finally snapped.
“Okay, okay! I get it!” he said.
I looked up, feigning innocence.
“Get what, Jordan?”
“I shouldn’t have bought eggs for my mom while telling you to cut back. It was selfish. But when my mom called, I just… I just couldn’t say no. Can I please have eggs now?”
I leaned back in my chair.
“I was actually thinking of sending them to your mom. Since, you know, she’s the priority here.”
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Alright, alright, Julia. I messed up. I should’ve put the kids first.”
I got up, grabbed one egg, and placed it on his plate.
“There. That’s all you get today. 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.”
Jordan groaned but didn’t argue.
Then, for the first time since the egg fiasco started, he sighed and said, “It wasn’t just about the eggs, Jules. Work’s been rough. They’re making cuts. I’ve been trying to save wherever I can, just in case…”
I blinked. “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t want to stress you out.” He exhaled. “It was a stupid decision. I panicked. My mom asked, and I just… couldn’t say no.”
I studied him. The guilt, the exhaustion. For the first time, I saw the real reason.
I reached for his hand. “Next time? Talk to me. No more cutting back on food. We’ll figure it out together.”
He squeezed my hand. “Together.”
A few days later, I opened the fridge and nearly dropped the carton in shock. Six cartons of eggs.
I turned to Jordan, who smirked. “Figured I’d stock up. No more running out.”
I smirked back. “Look at you, Jordan. Learning and growing.”
He laughed, and just like that, we were okay again.
