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A Mom’s Complicated Dinner Dilemma
Recently, I found myself grappling with some intense feelings. It started early in the morning when I brewed my coffee, hoping it would help me shake off the remnants of sleep. I also took some chicken out of the freezer, which is basically a commitment to dinner hours ahead. It’s like saying, “Hey, future me, you’ve got chicken cordon bleu to tackle tonight!” Before I even enjoyed my toast, I was already stewing over dinner. And boy, was I annoyed with that chicken.
As the hours ticked by, the thawing chicken seemed to mock me. “You promised chicken cordon bleu for your son, who’s been eagerly awaiting it all week. Better start prepping soon!” I wished I could just dive into a good book or take a nap instead. The frustration simmered.
By 4 p.m., it hit me that I had some unresolved issues to unpack, so I messaged my friend, Lisa.
Me: “I need to vent. I’m feeling so irrationally angry at dinner right now.”
Lisa: “Oh no! Please, spill!”
Me: “Dinner is so needy! It never cooks itself!”
Lisa: “Ugh, dinner! What a jerk!”
Me: “I used to love cooking, you know. It was even in my bio at my first job! Gardening too, can you believe it?”
Lisa: “Haha! What would it say now? ‘At home, Jamie enjoys running away from her children and making sarcastic remarks.’”
Me: “Exactly! You get me!”
Lisa: “I totally do.”
That exchange validated my feelings, and I began to reflect on my fraught relationship with dinner. Not long ago, I genuinely enjoyed cooking. I was the one flipping through Food Network recipes every week, creating culinary masterpieces from scratch. All that changed with kids.
Having children can seriously wreck your cooking confidence. After spending over an hour preparing a meal, nothing stings quite like seeing your little ones dissolve into tears at the dinner table. And, no, I don’t cater to their whims with separate meals. You’d think they’d learn to eat what’s served or go hungry, but after nine years, at least one of them walks away from the table nightly. They’d rather skip dinner than face the terrors of teriyaki salmon and steamed broccoli. When they don’t refuse outright, I get dragged into the dessert negotiations.
“Mom, how much do I have to eat for dessert?”
“All of it.”
“(Takes the tiniest bite possible) Can I have dessert now?”
Honestly, I’m worn out by the entire dinner ordeal—the planning, the cooking, the cleaning. Luckily, my husband works from home and picks up dinner duty twice a week, but that hasn’t eased the tension in our relationship. I can’t help but feel like dinner is the villain here. It’s time for it to take some responsibility.
Dinner is inconsiderate. It always shows up right when my kids are losing their minds. You’d think it would adjust its schedule, but no, it insists on crashing the party between 5 and 7 p.m. Dinner is also time-consuming, requiring endless planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleanup, especially when you’re striving for healthy meals. And don’t even get me started on how long a 7-year-old takes to finish a measly quarter cup of pasta.
Plus, dinner is relentless. It happens every single day. The more you cook, the more your family expects it. The constant “What’s for dinner?” or “I’m hungry!” doesn’t give you a moment’s peace. It’s one of the most chaotic times of the day—filled with whining, messes, and an overwhelming amount of potty humor.
I just need a break from you, dinner. I can’t keep this up. You take more than you give, and it’s unhealthy for me. A few weeks of Cheerios and toast in front of the TV could really do wonders for my sanity.
I confided in my husband about my dinner frustrations, and he suggested I focus on the positives. What side is he on, anyway? Maybe one day, dinner and I can find a middle ground, but I’m not holding my breath.
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