My epiphany only comes since having children myself. I realize that I have my mother to thank for this. Really? Yes my mom will never win the mother of the year award. What mother is perfect? She did her best—right? She was a single mother and working full time. She didn’t have time to make a homemade meal (but I seriously think she could have tried harder). I remember many of her notorious meals—spaghetti with tomato juice from a can, ghoulosh (couldn’t remember what was in it but it was a glop of grey goo), and some sort of chop suey a la “La Choy”. Some of these meals were created when she was still married and supposed to be a full time mom.
As for me I certainly didn’t think of these things before having children. Like the realization that you are responsible for this person until they are capable of doing everything for themselves.
While I’m making dinner this evening these thoughts crept into my mind. I’m responsible for feeding my children! If I don’t plan accordingly the natives get restless and war will be declared. Crying, whining and inconsolable nagging will reign supreme. On my best days, I have made a meal plan for the week and shopped accordingly. Today is one of those good mommy days where I have planned ahead. I generally try and start dinner around 4pm as my children desire to eat around 5pm. I made mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and steak (I know not really exciting but it’s all homemade).
Why is everything homemade? Why don’t I take the easy route and open a box, can, or something frozen?
I have my crappy mother to thank. And for that, I say thank you to my mother for opening a box of flakes and “making” potatoes as if we were in the army getting our “rations”. I can also remember cupcakes from a box, frosting from a can, pudding a la Jello, and hungry man frozen dinners.
Ironically, she has propelled me into being a better mom in the food department. I know I have a long way to go and I’m certainly not going to be awarded mom of the year anytime soon, but I’ll keep striving to get there.
I’m sure one day my kids will try to recall their memories as a child and they’ll probably say—you were a crappy mom. My reply….not as crappy as mine.
