I
used to love to cook. When I was in my twenties I remember looking
forward to coming home from work so that I could start whipping up some
kitchen magic. Although my skills are neither gourmet nor fancy, I have
always prided myself on my solid 'home cooking' results.
As both myself and our family grew, my love for spending time toiling in the kitchen has decreased exponentially. While I still enjoy baking, especially with my little helpers, cooking has turned from something that I adored into a daily chore. I jokingly tell other Moms that I don't mind cooking dinner but the fact that they want something every single day is exhausting.
I know that my boys (Scott included) are not picky eaters by definition, but they are averse to trying something outside of our taste repertoire. If I were to count, I would probably guess that they all enjoy 12-15 meal plans. I try to rotate those throughout the month, but after more than a decade the culinary routine has become monotonous. In order to try to rekindle the same enthusiasm from my youthful days playing in the kitchen, every once in awhile I like to try new recipes.
Last night was one of those occasions. With Timmy occupied with his new playroom, I excitedly planned, prepped and worked in the kitchen to prepare what I was sure to be an epicurean delight for everybody in the family. I couldn't wait for everybody to taste, and of course rave, about my newest masterpiece.
Well, it didn't work out as planned. The littlest boy, feeling no compulsion to mask his displeasure, promptly threw noodles at my head. The middle boy turned up his nose and picked at his plate as if he was dissecting a biology specimen. (If he only put as much attention into cleaning his bedroom!) The biggest boy ate the most modest of servings, proclaiming that it "wasn't bad."
Not exactly the home run I was expecting. I guess I'll return to the rotation later today. I'm bored with it, but at least I know that the food will be both enjoyed and consumed.
As both myself and our family grew, my love for spending time toiling in the kitchen has decreased exponentially. While I still enjoy baking, especially with my little helpers, cooking has turned from something that I adored into a daily chore. I jokingly tell other Moms that I don't mind cooking dinner but the fact that they want something every single day is exhausting.
I know that my boys (Scott included) are not picky eaters by definition, but they are averse to trying something outside of our taste repertoire. If I were to count, I would probably guess that they all enjoy 12-15 meal plans. I try to rotate those throughout the month, but after more than a decade the culinary routine has become monotonous. In order to try to rekindle the same enthusiasm from my youthful days playing in the kitchen, every once in awhile I like to try new recipes.
Last night was one of those occasions. With Timmy occupied with his new playroom, I excitedly planned, prepped and worked in the kitchen to prepare what I was sure to be an epicurean delight for everybody in the family. I couldn't wait for everybody to taste, and of course rave, about my newest masterpiece.
Well, it didn't work out as planned. The littlest boy, feeling no compulsion to mask his displeasure, promptly threw noodles at my head. The middle boy turned up his nose and picked at his plate as if he was dissecting a biology specimen. (If he only put as much attention into cleaning his bedroom!) The biggest boy ate the most modest of servings, proclaiming that it "wasn't bad."
Not exactly the home run I was expecting. I guess I'll return to the rotation later today. I'm bored with it, but at least I know that the food will be both enjoyed and consumed.
Ugh, dinner! I have kids age 2 and 5, and our rule is that they have to sit at the table and not yell at me about how much they hate everything about their dinner. They don't have to take a single bite. That's our oh so high standard.
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