A few days ago I appeared to be in a cooking mood. I made Spicy Puke ie curry, rice pudding and pikelets. I totally forgot that you're supposed to take artfully lit photos of these tempting treats, so you'll just have to imagine them. All of these offerings were actually partaken of and consumed. This is a monumental event in our house.
Truthfully, I will never be auditioning for Master Chef. Or even Mediocre Chef. Even though, in reality every meal here feels like a Master Chef challenge, with my boys being tougher critics than Matt Preston and co. It is quite the challenge trying to feed them.
Master 8 will scoff grilled fish with enthusiasm, one night, exclaiming "Mmmmm! I LOVE fish!" So then, I confidently serve fish again with flourish the following week only to hear: "Yuuuuuck!! I HATE fish!"
This battle started from the day they were born. I sucked at breast feeding. The baby didn't. I felt like a failure. The feeding problems persist to this day.
My mother happens to be the best cook in the whole world. Makes melt in your mouth apple pie. The Best Caramel Slice In The World Ever. That's what I call it. Because it is.
Unfortunately I did not inherit this ability. Sometimes my culinary efforts are fine. Often they aren't. It may have more to do with the fact that I frequently can't be bothered more than anything else. I'm sure I could become reasonably competent in the kitchen if I could somehow summon up the interest and desire to do so.
Somehow when you have three fussy kids and this has to be done everyday it suddenly becomes a massive chore. "Get them involved" say the 'experts' "Get them into the kitchen, cooking with you." Yeah right. It's all very well for the Jamie Oliver's of the world to suggest this, but they obviously don't have a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. Frankly if I put on any more weight, I'll have a hard enough time fitting in there myself let alone getting my kids in there as well.
Besides, they only want to help if we are making something cake like, so they can make a gigantic mess, with flour everywhere, get to lick the bowl then leave me with said gigantic mess to clean up. As well as cakie things which they won't eat because they weren't made by Grandma. I will then proceed to eat all of them, when I really shouldn't.
I also hear all these stories of children who just love vegetables. When I announce I can never get my boys to eat anything green, such as broccoli (I don't think their own snot counts) other parents stare at me open mouthed. "Really?" they say "I just tell them it's little trees and they eat it." So I attempted to convince Master 3 to eat it with this method "Look at the little trees!" I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Truthfully I don't really get that excited over it either, at least not as excited as I do over chocolate and cakies, but I had to try to convince him.
Master 3 then proceeded to show me exactly what he thought of my pathetic attempts at vegetable consumption coercion by throwing the 'little trees' at me. He also threw the burgers we had last night. When I informed him we were having burgers he reminded me rather scornfully "You get those at McDonald's you know." perhaps also inferring that they might be superior to anything I could cook.
Is it foolish to keep repeatedly trying to make healthy meals for your kids when they are happier with fish fingers and two minute noodles? And I'm happier with a lot less washing up? I think I'll just go with the second option tonight.
Truthfully, I will never be auditioning for Master Chef. Or even Mediocre Chef. Even though, in reality every meal here feels like a Master Chef challenge, with my boys being tougher critics than Matt Preston and co. It is quite the challenge trying to feed them.
Master 8 will scoff grilled fish with enthusiasm, one night, exclaiming "Mmmmm! I LOVE fish!" So then, I confidently serve fish again with flourish the following week only to hear: "Yuuuuuck!! I HATE fish!"
This battle started from the day they were born. I sucked at breast feeding. The baby didn't. I felt like a failure. The feeding problems persist to this day.
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| Cake made by my Mum for my 40th birthday.Who needs Masterchef, I have my Mum. |
Unfortunately I did not inherit this ability. Sometimes my culinary efforts are fine. Often they aren't. It may have more to do with the fact that I frequently can't be bothered more than anything else. I'm sure I could become reasonably competent in the kitchen if I could somehow summon up the interest and desire to do so.
Somehow when you have three fussy kids and this has to be done everyday it suddenly becomes a massive chore. "Get them involved" say the 'experts' "Get them into the kitchen, cooking with you." Yeah right. It's all very well for the Jamie Oliver's of the world to suggest this, but they obviously don't have a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. Frankly if I put on any more weight, I'll have a hard enough time fitting in there myself let alone getting my kids in there as well.
Besides, they only want to help if we are making something cake like, so they can make a gigantic mess, with flour everywhere, get to lick the bowl then leave me with said gigantic mess to clean up. As well as cakie things which they won't eat because they weren't made by Grandma. I will then proceed to eat all of them, when I really shouldn't.
I also hear all these stories of children who just love vegetables. When I announce I can never get my boys to eat anything green, such as broccoli (I don't think their own snot counts) other parents stare at me open mouthed. "Really?" they say "I just tell them it's little trees and they eat it." So I attempted to convince Master 3 to eat it with this method "Look at the little trees!" I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Truthfully I don't really get that excited over it either, at least not as excited as I do over chocolate and cakies, but I had to try to convince him.
Master 3 then proceeded to show me exactly what he thought of my pathetic attempts at vegetable consumption coercion by throwing the 'little trees' at me. He also threw the burgers we had last night. When I informed him we were having burgers he reminded me rather scornfully "You get those at McDonald's you know." perhaps also inferring that they might be superior to anything I could cook.
Is it foolish to keep repeatedly trying to make healthy meals for your kids when they are happier with fish fingers and two minute noodles? And I'm happier with a lot less washing up? I think I'll just go with the second option tonight.
