I hate cooking.
Those who know me are aware of this fact, but now I’m admitting it here. It’s not an easy thing to admit. Every mum is “meant” to like cooking, baking and making healthy nutritious meals from their home grown organic vegetable patches.
Not me. In fact I don’t only hate it, I detest it, and I am terrible at it. Just ask my kids, they will tell you.
This poses a bit of a problem when you have so many kids. Because they expect you to feed them. Not once a day. Or twice. But 3 times daily with snacks on top.
“Mum, I’m hungry. Mum when’s dinner? Mum what’s for dinner? Mum I’m STARVING!”
It’s always been the way.
I’m not sure why I’m such a bad cook – my mother never cried at dinner time like I do regularly. She made basic edible meals. I certainly don’t remember her not feeding us. I also don’t recall getting cooking lessons. Except in home economics in high school, but I paid no attention there.
Child 1 I managed to feed enough that he didn’t starve. Then when I met hubby he could cook. I don’t know where he learnt – he went to boarding school for 6 years and they fed him 3 meals a day. I soon realised I had to make him dinner too. So I tried hard – twice.
Time 1 I tried to copy a meal he had made. Crumbed chicken and veggies. I spent the good part of an hour crumbing it, then cooking it. I then fed it to child 1 who whinged it tasted terrible. So I yelled at him. He ate it. Hubby got home and took a bite, looked at me and asked me to show him what I had crumbed it in. So I showed him the canister which held the bread crumbs. Except they weren’t bread crumbs. It was oatmeal. We ate takeaway pizza.
Time 2 I made homemade lasagna. Mince, sauce, lasagna sheet. Repeat. Put in oven. Left it. When I looked the lasagna was hittng the oven roof. I had used puff pastry instead of lasagna sheets. No one had told me there was a difference. We ate takeaway pizza again that night.
I still hate cooking although I can serve “somewhat” edible meals these days. Or they’ve just gotten used to my terrible cooking. I hate that when I call my sister who is an amazing cook, and ask what are you having for dinner she rattles off something you’d find on the menu at Quay. Or when the other one who is also a great cook offers to make my kids dinner, because I know she thinks they haven’t been fed properly for a while.
I envy mums who bake. Baking is Betty Crocker in a box. You’re sending that woman broke by baking from scratch.
I envy mums who meal plan, write shopping lists a month in advance and make dessert. I envy them and we could never be friends, unless you will do mine as well.
I feed my kids fish fingers, pizza, nuggets and takeaway too much. They get sandwiches and they get dessert even when they don’t eat all their dinner.
Some nights they have breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast (leftovers) and one night I forgot to feed them at all. My idea of an easy night is toast – which happens all too often. I laugh when I read on mummy forums that “twice cooked pork belly” is an easy night.
Because until you’ve served your kids fairy bread for dinner, you really haven’t lived.