I had an epiphany this week. Nothing totally earth shattering. Probably nothing you haven’t thought of before or even myself for that matter. But it left me feeling so much lighter, especially going into the summer when my desire to make meals will be cut 100% 😉
With all the end of the year go-go-go we haven’t had any real, “solid” home cooked meals in a while. I just haven’t had it in me to do the weekly meal plan and big grocery shop. It’s been – what do I have? Great! That’s for dinner! We have nothing? Okay, quick trip to the store for bare essentials and easy meals. It’s been a lot of pasta, tortellini, breakfast for dinner, tacos, hot dogs, yada yada. And yes, pizza and take out. Stay with me. Epiphany, remember?
I haven’t cooked any of their favorite, more time intensive meals: chicken parmesan, hibachi chicken with fried rice, manicotti, chicken fajitas, homemade chicken fingers, and on and on. And vegetables? Well that’s been carrots, if I remember.
Tuesday I headed out with one son to his volleyball banquet. Because I hadn’t planned ahead, there was no lasagna to heat up or leftover bbq chicken to put on a sandwich, so it was pizza, again. Oh how the guilt started to roll in, all on its own.
And then one kiddo, because kids are simply just awesome like this, “Mom, when are you going to make a homemade meal again?!” And more guilt! Then another son, shhhh’d him and tried to whisper, but epically failed and said, “Dude, be quiet. I love pizza and take out. This has been great!”
I kinda agreed with him. The lack of meal planning, hour long grocery shops, dishes, complaints over meals, and cleaning the kitchen? Oh, oh, how great it had been. The cost? Not so much. The guilt? Also, not so much.
On my walk the next morning, my epiphany rescued me from my guilt. I have very, very few memories of home cooked nightly meals growing up. Here’s what I do remember:
~ One night a week, waffles, scrambled eggs and peas, my favorite meal
~ One night a week, Kraft macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, always a winner, especially with extra butter
~ A salad plate with two pieces of lettuce, two carrots, a cucumber slice, and some tomatoes with every non-breakfast for dinner meal, my mom’s attempt to get us to eat vegetables
~ TV Dinners (turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy!)
~Pizza every Friday night.
~Saturday morning breakfast at McDonald’s with my dad.
~Christmas morning breakfast of eggs, bagels, and grapefruit.
~Lasagna just for me on Thanksgiving because I didn’t like turkey.
~Cereal (mostly Cheerio’s or Rice Krispie’s) when still hungry.
What’s not here? Elaborate, homemade meals every night.
Maybe this was because I was a picky eater, and I didn’t like a lot of meals my mom made
-OR- Maybe it’s because depending on the stage of my life, my mom was either getting a Master’s degree, working, prioritizing herself, or taking care of a family member in need
-OR- Maybe it’s because there wasn’t enough time given our busy schedule
-OR- Maybe it’s because it wasn’t a value of my mom and dad’s Who knows.
But what this memory made me realize, is that what mattered, is that there was food. I was nourished. And an adult, either my mom or my dad or my really cool babysitter, was always there for dinner with me, until my later years in high school.
Dinner wasn’t fancy. Dinner was an act of love. It was a sign that my mom, even in her busy schedule, made sure:
that I was taken care of (and my dad on Friday nights and Saturday mornings.)
that food was available and on the table.
that holidays were special.
that I had what I needed to grow, to be strong enough to swim two hours, to stay up late studying, to do everything I wanted to do as a busy kid, always pursuing a new project, a new club, a new activity, a new idea.
This memory about my childhood snapped me out of feeling guilty about my lack of meal planning and homemade meal cooking. It gave me more permission than ever to make meals that are simple.
Where and when I got this notion that every night I had to make complex meals I don’t know. (Actually, I just realized where it came from..I needed to prove to myself that I can cook because someone once told me I was a lousy cook. Well I’m done with that limiting belief. Buh-BYE!) My kids are nourished, by food and love, and their favorite home-cooked meals when we have time and when I have the energy.
Turns out, the night of my epiphany, we had both. Oddly enough, I really enjoyed making dinner that night. We had meat, potatoes, biscuits and broccoli, a meal requested by my youngest. It came more from a place of love than ever and didn’t feel like a chore or obligation. I hope this epiphany isn’t new to you;) and if it is, I hope you are feeling lighter like I am.
Either way, this epiphany goes beyond cooking. It can be applied to probably any area where we feel we are falling a little short. Our love is nourishment. Showing up as parents, being supportive, creating traditions and memories, is nourishment.
This is what matters. Not how complex or perfect we made things. Sending all my warmth to go with your strength, today and always, and especially as we go into the summer months when there are *SO MANY* expectations out there to hit summer bucket lists. Your presence is a lot. Remember that.
xoxo, Sheila
🧡 The Orange Rhino
*another unedited, stream of consciousness post, showing my reflections of whatever random thought is on my mind or whatever challenge I can currently process so that I can move through it instead of staying stuck AND YES!
I had to take the pizza boxes out of the recycling for a photo because get this…they made it there before I had to ask;) in other words before I could take a picture!
