Dinner. It’s my least favorite household chore. If given the choice, I’d tackle a messy bathroom or a towering laundry basket any day over making dinner. Honestly, if it were up to me, I’d happily sip a strong gin and tonic and munch on a bag of pretzels for my evening meal. But alas, I have children, and they can’t thrive on gin alone. They require protein and, perhaps, a hint of something green. As the primary caregiver, I’m often the one stuck in the kitchen, yet I’m a most unwilling chef. Here’s a look at why:
- Grocery Shopping. Navigating the aisles of Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and Safeway weekly feels like a trip through one of the seven circles of hell. The fierce competition for parking spots, the realization that I’ve forgotten my shopping list on the kitchen counter, and the awkward maneuvering in the produce aisle—all of it makes me cringe. I’d rather endure a root canal.
- The Five Food Groups. In my quest to be a conscientious parent, I attempt to create balanced meals, but it rarely goes as planned. Not everyone will eat the same vegetables, and there’s no way I’m preparing both broccoli and spinach. If they manage to eat two out of the five food groups at dinner, I consider it a win. In our house, cereal is often deemed a perfectly acceptable dinner option.
- Raw Chicken. We eat chicken frequently, which means I’ve perfected exactly three chicken recipes—Indian Chicken, Fiesta Chicken, and Roast Chicken. Yet, I would rather deal with messy diapers than touch raw chicken. Its slimy texture and unsettling color make me shudder.
- Cooked Chicken. However, give me a juicy, perfectly seared steak any day over chicken. Just saying.
- The Smell. No matter how much I try to mask it, I always end up smelling like a diner cook after making dinner. Despite tying my hair back and cranking the kitchen vent, I still smell like garlic, onions, or—heaven forbid—roast chicken for days. Not exactly appealing.
- Wardrobe Malfunctions. Inevitably, I manage to splatter marinara sauce or oil all over my clothes while cooking. As much as I should wear an apron, I tend to ruin yet another shirt instead.
- Aprons. I have a deep-seated aversion to aprons. They remind me too much of 1950s sitcoms where the mom is always in the kitchen. They trigger my inner feminist, so I’d rather sacrifice my t-shirts than wear one.
- The Dinner Call. After my kids dramatically declare they’re “starving” every five minutes, they manage to vanish when it’s actually time to eat. Suddenly, they find solace in their screens instead of coming to the table.
- Uneaten Meals. More often than not, my kids refuse to eat the meals I’ve painstakingly prepared. Either they’ve secretly devoured candy from a party favor bag, or they suddenly “dislike” Indian Chicken without any prior notice.
- Cleanup. The aftermath of dinner—greasy plates and food smeared across the table—is almost worse than cooking itself. But hey, I thought the cook was exempt from cleanup duty? Awesome. Pass me the wine.
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In summary, cooking dinner can be an overwhelming task filled with challenges that many parents face. From grocery shopping to kitchen cleanup, the struggle is real, yet many of us persevere for the sake of our families.