Cooking has always been one of my greatest pleasures but i have found, since having my daughter, really, that I just do not have the time to spend on it like I used to – if at all. Thus, updating this blog – on which i’d spend a whole lotta time were it only possible – becomes a snatched opportunity in a frantic working week, if it even happens at all.
So apologies for this posting, which is an explanation, a bit of therapy and a big old moan, all in one!
Things just don’t seem to ever calm down and being a working mum has meant that the days when i came home to derive inspiration from my many cookbooks, plan and then enjoy the process of making an evening meal (with a bit of fuss and faff) are long gone.
Instead, I rush from my job to collect my daughter (often after running errands or emergency grocery shopping too) before going home to complete as many tasks as possible in advance of the other half getting home, including worrying about and then throwing together what we’re going to eat. it’s back to food as fuel, and the whole scenario is rather depressing.
There’s precious little time to dream away with a cookbook, and instead the harsh reality of a dishwasher to empty, washing to sort and put away, a cat to pet and feed and a small child to provide with a snack and entertainment looking intrude. Then I have to negotiate the fridge and freezer and try to come up with a satisfying and nutritious meal for everyone, and all the while the clock is ticking and my head is tormenting me that, whilst I am stressing in the kitchen, I am neglecting my three year-old. Who, of course, I haven’t seen all day because I have been at work. Guilt overload.
Of course, I make use of staples such as spaghetti bolognese and so on, and those things which i have made and frozen in advance, but there’s never the time at weekends to plan ahead for a full week’s grocery shopping and think about what’ll we’ll be eating every single evening.
i know now why my Dad was so stressed when we used to reply to his query of what we wanted for dinner with a ‘whatever’ – or a list of negatives about what we didn’t fancy. He was, after years of making the family evening meal, just looking for someone to take the decision out of his hands for once and help him out with some suggestions.
No wonder every Friday was chips night. He did still home-make them, but at least on that evening, after his own hard day at work, the need to come up with the solution to what an entire family were going to (happily) eat had been removed.
i need to come up with a solution as, quite honestly, i can’t see our lives getting any less busy in the near future…