The other day, I woke up feeling a bit off. The morning began with a hint of frustration, which I thought would dissipate with a warm cup of coffee. As I brewed my morning pick-me-up, I pulled some chicken from the freezer. At that point, a silent commitment was made: I would be preparing that chicken for dinner. It was 8 a.m., and I was already mentally wrapped up in the evening’s meal, which only fueled my resentment.
As I sipped my coffee, I tried to forget about the chicken thawing on the counter, but it was relentless. “You’ve planned chicken cordon bleu, and your son can’t wait for it. He’s been anticipating it all week! Just wait until you start prepping me in a few hours!” I couldn’t help but think, “Enough already, chicken. I’d rather dive into a book and take a nap.” My irritation only grew as the day went on.
By 4 p.m., I felt the weight of my dinner-related issues pressing down on me, so I texted my friend, Lisa.
Me: I’m feeling unreasonably angry about dinner right now.
Lisa: That’s rough! Let it all out!
Me: Dinner is so demanding. It never seems to make itself.
Lisa: Totally.
I used to enjoy cooking—really! It was even in my bio at my first job in a pediatric office alongside my gardening skills.
Lisa: Haha! What would your bio say now? “At home, Jamie enjoys running, making snarky comments, and dodging her kids.”
Me: Exactly! You know me too well.
Lisa: I understand where you’re coming from.
That exchange made me feel understood, and it prompted me to reflect on my complicated feelings around dinner. Once upon a time, I relished cooking, often trying new recipes and watching Food Network shows. But then I had children.
Nothing can deflate your confidence as a home cook quite like kids. Spending hours preparing a meal only to see tears at the table is a demoralizing experience. And no, I don’t whip up separate meals for them. You’d think after nine years they’d adapt to the idea that they either eat what’s served or not at all. But nearly every night, at least one child leaves the table untouched. They’d rather face bedtime hungry than “risk their lives” with teriyaki salmon and broccoli. If they don’t refuse the meals outright, the dreaded “dessert negotiation” ensues.
Her: How much do I need to eat for dessert?
Me: All of it.
Her: (takes a microscopic bite) So, can I have dessert now?
At this point, I’m completely drained and utterly fatigued by the entire dinner routine. Thankfully, my husband works from home and shares dinner duties twice a week. Yet, even with this relief, my relationship with dinner remains strained. Dinner, in my opinion, needs to take some responsibility for this dysfunction.
Dinner is inconsiderate. It appears between 5 and 7 p.m., coinciding with my children’s nightly meltdowns. You’d think dinner could reschedule to spare me the chaos, but no—it’s relentless.
Dinner is time-consuming. The planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleaning take up a significant chunk of my day, especially if I’m aiming for healthy meals. And let’s not even talk about how long it takes for a 7-year-old to eat a mere quarter cup of pasta.
Dinner feels never-ending. It’s a daily obligation that escalates expectations. I can’t sneak in a day of snacks without hearing “I’m hungry. When is dinner?”
Dinner time is chaotic, filled with whining, interruption, and endless messes. I just need a break from you, dinner. It’s exhausting, and I believe a few weeks of cereal and toast in front of the TV could do wonders. I shared these feelings with my husband, and he suggested I focus on the positives of dinnertime. Is he even on my side?
I don’t know if dinner and I will ever reach a truce, but I’m not holding my breath for a resolution anytime soon.
For more insights into parenting and home life, you might enjoy exploring our other blog posts, like this one on the couples’ fertility journey. It’s a reminder that we all have complex relationships—whether with dinner or other aspects of life. For those curious about home fertility options, check out this authoritative source on home fertility tests. And for additional information on pregnancy, refer to this excellent resource.
In summary, navigating the complexities of dinner as a parent can be a rollercoaster of emotions. From the joy of cooking to the stresses of fussy eaters, it’s a journey many can relate to.