I’m not a good cook.
Admittedly. But honestly, I’m not even interested in becoming a good cook. For what? Last night I defrosted a Portuguese kale soup that Valerie made for us a year ago. I heated it up in a large pan and ladled it out for the girls and me (Emily was at work). At 6:00pm. It was, even after a year in deep freeze, delicious. By 6:03 Nina was running around the kitchen driving her doll berserk by racing her around upside down in a mini stroller and crashing into things. Oh, excuse me, it was a “jogging stroller” and she was “jogging”. By 6:07 Joita had finished a second helping and was pushing herself away from the table to join Nina in some sibling frivolity, involving that same poor doll. By 6:10 I’d cleared the table and had the dishes nestled in the dishwasher. Well that was relaxing.
If it had taken me more than the three minutes it took me to “cook” dinner I would have been upset. As is, I had indigestion from the flurry of hurried eating and the following whirling activity. How do people do it?! How do you keep children at the dinner table longer than a minute? It isn’t like I expect stimulating conversation from my two year old. And I do understand that my cooking does leave something to be desired. But the effort it takes to put dinner on the table far exceeds the time spent eating it. Is there some trick to a more relaxing evening meal with a family?