The phrase “what’s for dinner?” has become my least favorite question, often asked before I’ve even had my morning coffee. I can’t fathom why my kids think I should already be planning dinner twelve hours in advance, especially after I’ve made it clear that I’m done (D-O-N-E, done) with cooking for them.
Here’s the truth: I’ve stopped preparing meals for my children. Now, before you reach for your phone to call child services, let me clarify—I haven’t stopped providing food; I’ve simply stopped cooking it.
Cooking was never my passion. When I was single, I survived on cereal and frozen pizzas. But once I became a parent, I realized that approach wouldn’t cut it. For years, I tried my best to create family dinners, believing that motherhood would transform me into a culinary expert.
Despite my efforts to find easy, kid-friendly recipes through Google and Pinterest, I discovered that becoming a mom didn’t magically make me an accomplished chef. As a working mother, I experimented with freezer meals, crockpot recipes, and even meal rotations. I sought feedback from my kids and enlisted their help in the kitchen.
Yet, as my children grew and our schedules became busier, mealtime turned into a source of stress. On the rare occasion I attempted a new recipe, it either flopped or someone would refuse to eat what I made. After years of trying to make family dinners work, I had a realization: why was it solely my responsibility to ensure dinner was on the table? My husband didn’t seem to worry about it, so why did I assume it was my role?
I had taken on this responsibility from the beginning of our marriage, but that didn’t mean I had to continue. We both worked full-time and didn’t enjoy cooking. Plus, one of our sons was actually a better cook than I was and enjoyed it.
Our kids were no longer toddlers; they were teenagers who knew how to prepare basic meals like pasta, scrambled eggs, and mac and cheese. So, I gathered everyone together and announced a change: I would no longer be preparing meals specifically for them. If I decided to make something for myself, I would be happy to share, but if they didn’t want it, they would need to find their own food.
I assured them I would keep the pantry stocked, but the pressure to cook was off. Now, when they ask what’s for dinner, I respond with “I don’t know; what’s Dad making?” or “I don’t know; you tell me.” After all, give a child a bowl of spaghetti, and they eat for a day. Teach them to boil water, and they eat for a lifetime.
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In summary, I’ve taken a step back from the kitchen, allowing my teenagers to take on more responsibility for their meals. This shift has relieved stress for everyone and empowered my kids to develop their cooking skills.