Thursday, 22. July 2010 18:38
Today the clouds parted and I swear God was patting me on the back. The moment that deserved such praise was that all four of my children ate what I fed them for supper, without a moment of hesitation or complaining. Although they were verbally silent, the empty plates were evidence enough for me and I will take what I can get.
As any person who cooks for more than one knows, to please the taste buds of the whole crowd can seem like an impossible feat. I have slaved in the kitchen, making meal after meal, only to have most or all of my children stick up their noses in disgust as if I was asking them to eat the warm eyeballs of a cow that I just killed in the backyard (Don’t worry there are no roaming mammals in my backyard, I barely can keep my tomato plants alive.). I think that I finally get why my dad would always say when I was growing up, that he understood why some animals eat their young. I think four would prove to be a pretty hearty meal, do you?
I used to get so frustrated with this scenario, working hard to please my family through cooking and in return they would verbally pick apart what they were served. One time, after a particular hard day with three needy children and one crying baby, this scenario sent me stomping and crying upstairs, feeling quite sorry for myself (and might I add I think quite rightfully so).
The more kids you have, the less the odds are that the same meal with be a hit with everybody. I have grown as a person, one might say matured, and those crying bouts over rejected meals seem like distant and silly memories. I just don’t take it personally anymore and basically tell my children when their noses are turned up so high, that I think that I can actually see straight up into their nose cavities, to eat their supper and that the chef is not interested in comments from the patrons.
Curious to know todays big hit……grilled peanut butter and jam sandwiches. What can I say, I had to make a quick supper and it turns out that what they really want to eat is sandwiches rather than the pureed curried sweet potato soup that I tried to feed them this winter. Who knew.
Namaste