I'm just a regular person. I'm not a chef. I've said this to my husband many times over the decade of our marriage, to excuse things I've laid on our dinner table. Things we've actually had to name. "Chicken, the other black meat," "Cheese wads" and my favorite, "Dill Surprise."
This is what I cooked up for my family of four to enjoy earlier this week. I got a potato side dish recipe from Joy of Cooking, but either they didn't test it out right, or perhaps something went wrong on my end.
When I put this on the table, my son took a bite and happily exclaimed, "I can't even hear my stomach burning!"
I chose to take that as a compliment. I mean, come on. How many hats do us mothers need to wear? Mother, confidant, doctor/nurse, laundress, repair-woman, chauffeur, re-attacher of limbs (hopefully for toys only), the list goes on. And truly, "chef" doesn't fit into our mix. We have so many things to do, places to go, doctors to visit, behinds to wipe that there simply isn't enough time in the day to put a Donna Reed dinner on the table every night.
Yet, like so many of you hat-wielding moms, I try.
Because not trying is rather terrifying. Here is what my town's public schools (obviously not part of the Food Revolution) are offering their youngest, the elementary school children, for their school lunches this week: Mon: egg patty with bacon. Tue: chicken nuggets. Wed: bagel and cream cheese. Thu: spaghetti taco and crabby patty. Fri: stuffed crust pizza.
First of all, what the heck is a spaghetti taco?
And second, this is pitiful! My dad brown-bagged our lunches for as long as I can remember. Through high school even. And I plan to do the same for my children. No matter how heavy my head gets with all those hats. Maybe I can blame those hats for future versions of Dill Surprise. Or maybe I can be proud to wear them. Knowing that really, all my kids care about, is that I tried to do something nice for them.
Oh, and if you can cook, check this out. Guaranteed not to burn your kid's stomach.
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