Recently, I found myself grappling with some unexpected feelings of frustration. It started early in the day when I awoke, coffee in hand, and pulled some chicken from the freezer. The moment that chicken is out, it feels like a promise—one that binds you to a culinary commitment for later in the day. Even before breakfast, dinner looms large in my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of resentment toward it.
As I sipped my coffee, attempting to shake off the negativity, the chicken continued to mock me from the counter. “You’ve planned to make chicken cordon bleu, your child’s favorite! He’s been eagerly waiting for it all week. You better get started in three hours!” Please, chicken, I just want to curl up with a good book and catch a nap. The irritation only grew stronger.
By late afternoon, I realized it was time to unload my feelings. I texted my friend, Lisa.
Me: I need to vent—I’m feeling unusually angry about dinner.
Lisa: Oh no! Let it out! What’s going on?
Me: Dinner is so demanding. It never makes itself!
Lisa: Right? So selfish!
Me: I actually used to enjoy cooking. It was even mentioned in my bio at my first job. Can you believe that?
Lisa: Haha! What would it say now? “At home, Jamie enjoys running away from her kids and making sarcastic remarks.”
Me: Exactly! You get me, Lisa.
Her response validated my feelings, prompting me to reflect on the tangled emotions I have surrounding dinner and how it spiraled out of control. I genuinely used to enjoy cooking. I watched cooking shows and experimented with new recipes—until I had kids.
Let’s be real: nothing can crush your confidence in the kitchen faster than having children. Spending over an hour preparing a meal only to witness tears at the table is disheartening. And no, I don’t make separate meals for my kids. You’d think they’d eventually learn that they can either eat what’s served or go hungry, but no. Nearly every night, at least one of them leaves the table without so much as a bite. They’d rather starve than risk the “danger” of teriyaki salmon and steamed broccoli. If they do eat, it often leads to negotiating for dessert, which is a whole different battle.
At this point, I’m just exhausted by dinner and the emotional toll it takes. Thankfully, my partner works from home, so I only shoulder the dinner burden a couple of times a week. You’d think that would ease the tension, but it hasn’t. Dinner has a lot to answer for in this dysfunctional relationship.
Dinner is inconsiderate. It always arrives between 5 and 7 p.m., the exact time my kids decide to lose their minds. I haven’t managed to reschedule those meltdowns to any other part of the day, so you’d hope dinner could cut me a break. But no, it shows up right on cue.
Dinner is also time-consuming. The planning, shopping, prepping, cooking, and cleaning are exhausting, especially if you want to maintain a healthy diet. Plus, it takes my youngest forever to eat a mere 1/4 cup of pasta and two leaves of lettuce.
And let’s not forget, dinner is relentless. It demands to be made every single day. The more I prepare it, the higher the expectations from my family. I can’t even pretend I was going to serve snacks because I’ll be bombarded with questions like, “What’s for dinner?”
Dinner is consistently one of the most stressful moments of the day—filled with whining, complaints, and enough interruptions to make anyone lose their cool. I just need a break from you, dinner. You drain me more than you uplift me. I think it’s time for a reset—maybe a few weeks of Cheerios and toast in front of the TV will do me some good. I just need some space.
I shared my frustrations with my partner, who suggested I focus on the positives of dinnertime. Seriously? It feels like dinner and I are in a long-term relationship that needs some serious reevaluation. Perhaps, someday, we can find common ground, but I’m not holding my breath.
For more insights into the complexities of parenting and home life, check out this blog post.
Summary:
Navigating the emotional landscape of family dinners can be overwhelming for many parents. From the pressure of meal prep to the inevitable complaints from kids, the struggle is real. Finding balance and joy in cooking can be challenging, but remember to take breaks and focus on what works for your family. For those considering family planning, Make a Mom offers reliable kits for at-home insemination, while ASRM provides excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
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