The holidays are over allowing me to breathe in the cold wet air and cook my heart out. My mother instilled in me at a very young age that cooking a meal for your family is love at it's purest form. Caring about every little detail, making sure the seasoning is right no matter that it may take hours and your picky children my push it away, wrinkle their nose and say something to the effect of," why broccoli? You know I hate broccoli!!" Cooking is therapy. Cooking is creative and heartwarming and passionate and emotionally charged. It provides me with a creative outlet to create healthy comforting meals for my family and center myself.
When I moved out of my parents' home and in with my hubby, he actually did most of the cooking. In the beginning I was worried I'd screw up and burn something or make it too salty, etc. It took a lot of practice and a little self-confidence and now I do about 95% of the cooking in our house... Daddy will take about a meal a week to lighten the load for me and allow me an hour to chase the kids around the house or build a fort with them or play legos, which I appreciate immensely.
Though they may grab their nose and refuse to even try my creations occasionally, I know in my heart that the time and energy spent feeding my family meals that I've made is well worth it. Knowing that it didn't come out of a box or from a drive thru window is very comforting and reassuring to me. Don't get me wrong, we do order pizza a few times a month, but I hope to teach my children a love for cooking just like my mother did for me.