Cooking

I am not known as a cook. This is the understatement of the year. I would be happy grazing in lieu of meals, just snacking my way through every day. However, I have kids, and therefore, we have meals. Putting meals on the table is a torturous enterprise for me. The meal planning, the timing of it all, the strategizing: what will the kids eat that is somewhat different from what we ate the night before and the night before that and the night before that...

I have friends who either don't comment on their cooking abilities or else profess to be wonderful in the kitchen. If anyone asks me, and often when they don't, I say that I'm a terrible cook. But that isn't necessarily true. WHEN I actually cook, it usually tastes pretty good. But getting to the actual cooking, and getting through the actual process, is a stressful undertaking for me (and for my husband!).

I get the humble aspect: I was raised by 2 people who don't believe in tooting their own horns. But in 17 years away from home, I keep telling myself the same story. "I suck at cooking! I hate it! I have no ideas!" Why?

Is it because my mom was such a good cook that I fear I can't live up to her?
Because I'm lazy?
Because I'm a creature of habit?
Because the list of what my big girl (and I!)won't eat is longer than the list of what we will eat?
Because I'm a feminist and cringe at being good at something that is traditionally women's work?
Because eating isn't a priority to me?
Because I'm a bad wife?
Because I have low self esteem?
Because I overthink everything?

Because, because, because, because, because!