I'm Hungry!

Being a mother is not the easiest job in the world. Not only do we feel responsible for our families, but a lot of us hold down full time jobs. Unfortunately a lot of husbands choose to live in the past. They feel their work is done when they get home. Luckily this doesn't exist in my house. But for those women who have to deal with it, I find it incredible that, even with their jobs, they still clean the house, care for the children and cook meals.

When I was growing up my mother worked as a teacher. Her work day was over at 2:00 but then she would go home and take care of everything else. She constantly had a dust cloth or vacuum in her hand. Dinner was always on time and consisted of a well-balanced variety of foods. She also took care of all of the laundry and grocery shopping along with managing finances. My father would come home from work and sit in his chair with a beer. Mom would be busy making sure dinner was on time so he wouldn't get upset. If he was outside doing something she would keep dinner warm so as not to upset him. After dinner he sat in his chair again, read the paper and watched TV. Mom would be cleaning up the kitchen. My sisters and I would help but not as much as we should have.

This was all I knew. Every night there would be a meal on the table. When she was a child this was what was expected of her. Since my grandmother worked full time my mother would come home from school, clean the house, and have dinner ready before my grandmother got home. To this day she doesn't find anything wrong with having to do everything. You would think this would pass to the next generation.

Not so.

I never saw the logic in that way of thinking. If I was working just as hard as my husband, why should I be responsible for all the family stuff too? My husband is just like me and we share the responsibility. I remember when my grandmother was alive and I was visiting her, she let me know what she thought of that!

"You'd better get home and have dinner ready for him", she'd say.

"He'll be fine", I'd reply. "He knows how to feed himself."

She'd shoot me a look that could kill. "You know, he's not going to put up with that for very long. You'd better make sure everything's done!"

I would laugh at her, but she'd still have that look that would say, 'just you wait and see!!'.

Even though I feel deep down that my house should be clean all of the time and dinner should be prepared every night, the logical side of my brain thinks that's crazy. We do quite well with sharing the chores, but there is one thing that doesn't work out very well.

Neither of us likes to cook.

What a terrible person I am!!! Aren't I responsible for ensuring that my kids get healty meals so they can grow up big and strong? Isn't it child abuse when they only get a bowl of cereal for dinner? As much as I want to give them a decent meal every night, I can't. The idea of cooking makes me sick.

From years back when I'd try to make a decent meal, I would get very angry. This is a strange thing that no one can understand but me. I wasn't angry with my family. I was angry at the idea that humans need nutrition to survive. Who thought of that anyway? Wouldn't it just be easier to take a pill everyday instead of all that cooking nonsense? And why was I expected to supply this 'nutrition' everyday? With my husband helping, I still needed to cook several times a week. As time went on the meals got worse and worse.

Now we have spaghetti with jar sauce at least two to three times a week. Cereal is another staple at the dinner table. Occasionally my husband will go to the freezer and put artificial chicken product patties and processed french fries in the oven. I have to admit he's better than me at this since, when he 'prepares' dinner, he always includes a vegetable.

I'm not really a big fan of food. If I like something I'll eat a lot of it. It's very hard to cook something that I can barely look at, let alone eat. The guilt of my failings overtakes me everyday. I just know that my family will sit me down one day and tell me that their lives were miserable because I didn't fulfill my motherly duties of providing nutrition.

It amazes me when I see my friends get home and start working in the kitchen. There is no anger in their eyes and they almost look like they enjoy cooking. How bizarre!
I'd rather clean the basement than cook a meal.

One day when I was feeling guilty I told my kids I was sorry. My son looked at me, somewhat confused. "What do you feel guilty about?", he asked. I looked at him with concern in my eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have a decent meal for you every night like the other mothers", I told him.

"Mom", he said, looking at me with brows furrowed, "I don't get it. We eat every night. I like what you and Dad make. Why are you so upset?"

I replied, "The other mothers always cook for their families every night. They don't always pour cereal or boil pasta for the zillionth time. I feel bad that I don't take the time to make something better".

He looked at me again with concern in his eyes. "Mom," he answered, "I like everything you do. You spend time with us and make us laugh. You're the best mom I know. Who cares about dinner?"

Again, the wisdom of the children triumphs everytime. Even though I stink in the kitchen, I must be doing something right.