Burning Dinner

         In “Hating Cooking”, I told you about my cooking problems and how I get distracted while cooking dinner.   It is a long-standing joke in my house that I am not a great cook and often burn or ruin things.  However, until I wrote that I never realized (or actually absorbed) the fact that it is the stove that seems to be the source of all my troubles!  (See, I am clueless.) So, the obvious answer is to break the stove and not tell the hubby!  No, can’t do that.  I need the stove for making oatmeal and hot chocolate.  Hot chocolate makes my culinary shortcomings excusable to my kids.  Add marshmallows and they will even forgive my grilled cheese deceit.  (We’ll get to that another time.)

         I realized that my first entry about cooking makes it seem as if trying to read magazines while cooking is my problem- not my poor cooking skills.  That is not the case.  Only rarely is it quiet enough around here to pick up a magazine or the paper while cooking,  (And, there is one recipe that lends itself to reading:  risotto!  You have to stand there and stir for a long time.  That is the perfect reading recipe.)  My biggest problem lies with the people I have to cook for!

         Most times, while I am making dinner, I need to step away from the stove on urgent business.  Sometimes, I must try to prevent one of my children from maiming another or stop one from goading another one into a blinding rage. Sometimes I have to mop up tears because the fighting upset the youngest.  Or I have to help with homework.  Or I am trying to stay on top of the big pile of dishes caused by cooking.  (This is where that TV crew would come in handy!) 

         So really, I must blame the very children that I am cooking for in the first place.  They are setting me up to fail.  They need to be fed, yet again, and then they are hell-bent on distracting me.  I know this is so because when I cook on the weekend, there is another grownup to distract them!  If they stay away from me and don’t ask me any questions, I can cook.  But the truth is:  I really do my best work for guests.  I want them to be satisfied and not to go home talking about the terrible dinner they were served so I try extra hard.  And even if I screw something up, they will be kind.  Not so with kids. 

         It seems terrible.  That I can’t try as hard for my kids as I can for guests.  Let’s look at this from another angle:  I only have to feed guests occasionally.  But, I have to feed the kids a meal 21 times per week.  (They usually bring lunch from home.)  That’s 21 times a week I have to do something that I don’t really care for.  (And, their lives depend on it!) So, lets figure 5 bad weekday dinners per week.  Oh crap- the direction I’m going requires math…  I’m out of practice with numbers because, on an average day, I usually only have to count to 3 to make sure I have all the kids I’m supposed to have.  [Focus!] So, 76% of the week, their food doesn’t suck.  Wait a minute…  that’s not bad at all!  And if we are running around and pick up dinner on a school night that’s only 4 crappy meals; bringing my decency rate up to… almost 81%!!

         What the heck are they complaining about??