Cooking Therapy

The strangest thing just happened to me. I’ve been in a crabby mood all afternoon for no good reason. Well, I was hoping to go out to Sherwin Williams and pick up some stuff for stripping wallpaper right after lunch, figuring the boys would be at their best then (for a short period of time, since it’s also right before the little one’s naptime, but since he’d be “escaping” his nap, he’d be generally well behaved). Well, right as I was yelling at the kids to get their socks and boots on, my husband came home – unexpectedly – for lunch, and – not realizing I was thinking of going out – blocked the driveway so I couldn’t leave. Now, it was definitely a pleasant surprise, and I’m not complaining about it, but after he left (late) I had to put the little one down for a nap and didn’t get to go. And since naptime ended early because the dog barked when the mail came at 3:15, the level of crankiness was more than I could take out of the house.

Perhaps it was just the disappointment of being stuck at home, or the usual afternoon queasiness, but I was mighty impatient with the kids all afternoon. When S1 tried to take a pop-tart out and managed to drop crumbs all over the place, I was greatly annoyed. When S2 cried because S1 took the Clifford book away from him, I rolled my eyes. When I saw that S2 had completely unpeeled a banana that he then left uneaten, I shouted. And when S1 decided it would be fun to repeat everything I was saying, I actually gave him a timeout. I gotta say, I am not too proud of that.

But anyhow, usually, cooking is just another chore that I am burdened with. And cooking Indian food – well, that’s even worse. For one thing, it takes time and a lot of dishes to cook Indian food, so cleanup is a pain. And, I just can’t eat Indian food more than once a week. Of course, my husband and kids could eat it every day – and my sons actually eat a lot without too much fussing when there’s Indian food on their plates. So 4:30 rolled around, I was feeling kinda down – physically and mentally – and realized that I hadn’t figured out dinner yet. We had leftover cauliflower all chopped up (from Indian food I had made earlier in the week), so I made some dough. And, as usual, when I turned on the stand mixer to start making the dough, S2 came running into the kitchen and asked me to lift him up and sit him on the counter so he could watch. Then he went back to play. And the two boys played – without screaming or fighting – while I cooked. And as I cooked, I realized that I felt good. Maybe it was that I was accomplishing something instead of just sitting around feeling nauseous all afternoon. Maybe it was getting some time away from the boys – even if they were just in the next room. Maybe it was that I remembered to taste the food before it was done and add more salt to correct the taste. Maybe I’m getting better at cooking, and the reliability of the results – actually creating 95% poofy rotlis – gave me a real sense of accomplishment. Whatever the reason, I finally felt the pleasure of cooking. My husband would offer to play with the kids while I cook so I could get a break from them – offering me the alternative of playing with them while he cooked – and I would inevitably choose the former. But I never felt what he was offering me until today.

And now I think I’ve turned a culinary corner. I know I’m a decent, nay, good cook. And I can make more and more complicated dishes without feeling too overwhelmed by them. And a messy kitchen doesn’t bother me, because I’ve learned that I can find the pockets of time to clean along the way so there’s not a huge mound at the end. And knowing that at the end, everything will be put away and our stomachs will be full and satisfied is a good feeling.

Now, if I didn’t hate my kitchen…