So you know that I hate cooking. You know what else I hate? Serving the food to three ingrates. Okay, I know that sometimes (or often) I’ve
screwed something up. But there are
other times that I have done everything perfectly. Made a beautiful meal. With all the proper food groups AND with a
nice presentation to boot! (Rather than
just slopped into a bowl from the stove.) And do they grovel and thank me? Do they praise the effort it took my
unwilling brain to comply with the demands that I was placing upon it? No, of
course not.
Remember the commercials- “4/5 dentists recommend _____!” Most nights, 2/3 kids give me a “thumbs down”. Jerkies.
Even if I liked cooking a little bit, the constant complaining certainly
wouldn’t make it very rewarding. “Oh no,
you didn’t tell me we were having this?!” “Arg, you know I hate this!” “Can you make me something else?” No! As if! I hated making this the first time!
I have three children who, I can only
guess, inherited very different food tastes.
Since they look like us, I don’t think they were switched in the
hospital. And if there was some mix up, what are the chances
that would have happened more than once?
I should have at least two
with the same food tastes.
Anyhow, they have all lived here, with
me and my cooking, since birth. How did they come to have such completely
different tastes in food?! The most
frustrating part is that there is almost no overlap of what they do like. What am I supposed to do? One doesn’t like
pasta, one doesn’t eat meat, one does
like veggies, two don’t. One likes
fruit, one doesn’t and the other is anybody’s guess. Just when I think I can keep straight who
likes what, their tastes change!
And why do their tastes change anyway? How can they happily eat one food for years
and, suddenly, they wont eat it anymore?
It’s not like in college where one bad night can put you off a certain
drink for the rest of your life. And
it’s not as if they have ever had food poisoning to turn their taste for
something. My personal favorite is when I make something that I
know at least one person likes and that person says “I’m not in the mood for
this tonight.” WHAT?! Not in the
mood?! That makes me want to say
bad words. When you cook, you can make what you
are in the mood for, %@$%#^^!!!
There is only ONE meal they will all
eat without complaining. Breakfast for
dinner. We like to call it binner. We probably
have breakfast for dinner once a week. It’s
sort of a pain because I have to be a short order cook- making different egg
styles and flipping pancakes or passing out waffles. But it is totally worth it to have respite
from the usual complaining! Sometimes there is even praise; like
when pancakes are in funny shapes or form their initials. I soak
it up to get me through the rest of the week.
Well, there is one person who doesn’t
love breakfast for dinner. My poor
husband- I think he believes that meals should stay in their assigned time
slot. But, my binner has one thing going
for it that most of my other dinners do not.
It’s not burned or undercooked or under spiced. Hopefully that makes up for its time slot
trickery. (And for the way his newspaper
winds up glued to the table thanks to wayward syrup… these kids are slobs.) Unlike the kids, he doesn’t complain. The poor guy never gets to have his dinner
hot or cooked correctly but, lucky for me, he’s a gem who will eat whatever I
put in front of him. Not a quality I was
exactly looking for in a man but one I am glad to have found. And one that certainly didn’t pass down to
his children!
We never pass down the traits we want. I know exactly where that “picky eater” gene
came from- me. Whether it was going to
pass through my genes naturally is anybody’s guess. My mother overrode nature with the famous
mother curse, ”I hope one day you have kids who… “ Darn it Mom! You didn’t know your own
strength at cursing- they are three different types of picky!! No fair!!
I am going to try really hard
not to curse my own kids. But one could
slip out. Probably when I’m making
dinner…
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