As adults we have all cooked a meal before. Whether it is for yourself or your entire extended family, you’ve likely done this at least once in your lifetime. I have always taken cooking for granted. I mean I used to throw something together and make a meal and it was so satisfying. I could simply gather my ingredients, follow the recipe, and in no time I would have a fabulous meal. Now, on the other hand, it’s like I am in the middle of a war against a tiny soldier and no matter how hard I try I will not come out the victor.

Lets start at the beginning, shall we?

I like to switch up my meals each week, this way I don’t get too comfortable with what I am cooking. I usually find myself on Pinterest or the Food Network app searching for ‘quick, easy, and/or semi-healthy meals’ (the semi-healthy part makes me feel better about myself.) Yesterday, I found a new recipe for a beef stew and of course I went to the store before reading the recipe (I always do this and I always regret it.)

Later that day I started making dinner. The little one was quietly playing (which means she is probably doing something she shouldn’t be) and it seemed like the right time. I started reading the recipe and all of the sudden it says 1 hour and 45 minutes cook time. Not even prep time, just cook time. Seriously!!!!!

I started to freak out because I was already starving at 4p.m. (Oh wait, I am always hungry.) I started the recipe, completely forgetting my daughter was playing around the kitchen and by the time I was done, I couldn’t even remember what I was doing.

It took me 2 hours to prep this meal. Half way through I thought about quitting, but decided I wasn’t raised a quitter. So I pushed on through.

I laid on the floor after setting the timer thinking about what had just occurred. I had somehow managed to prep a meal for 2 hours, while also managing to keep the little warrior out of my way. I thought, “this is too good to be true,” and of course it was.

I sat up and looked around. I hadn’t won at all. My daughter was sitting in the cabinet stuffing her face with Oreos (which were most likely stale.) My entire collection of Tupperware and pots and pans lay around the kitchen. The refrigerator door left open with every dressing in the book thrown across the hallway (some leaking, I might add.) Every kitchen towel unfolded. All of my recently thrown away mail out of the trash can and ripped to shreds. I made myself follow the dressings down the hallway, crossing my fingers that that’s where it ends, but of course not. The laundry room had piles of clean clothes now mixed with the banana covered clothes I had laid in their prior to cooking, all of my makeup was laying in the dryer, and the entire toilet paper roll was laying in the toilet. (I guess this is what people mean when they say to baby-proof my home better.)

Tonight, we order takeout.


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