I’m cooking now

I know that doesn’t sound as exciting as it should. But if you know me then you know this is a big deal for me. Since separation  and divorce, I was sort of on strike, no more cooking.  That was, unless i felt like, which meant hardly ever. Since I came from a lazy mom who let me do most of the cooking since I was like 10, then I went straight to being married and cooking for him. Once divorced, I guess I sort of took an oath:

I do solemnly swear I will not enter a kitchen again to cook, until it’s of my own accord, I will not stand over a hot pan while a child asks me , ‘ what’s for dinner’. I refuse to make sauce from scratch until I feel like it. My secret recipes for stuff the kids love, are staying secrets!

I could hear the hallelujah choir. Angels rejoicing in heaven, the kitchen is fucking closed., until further notice. Ok,  I do sort of cook on high holidays ( I’m jewish) , but not completely kosher. Oy vey, to many damn dishes for me. I will clean before I cook. I will do laundry before I cook. I would wash the car before I cook.i will do yard work, clean out the closets, clean the attic, clean out my car,  I would rather iron than cook, getting the picture?  And I have thought about when I play the lottery, when I win, I am getting a cook, best money I will ever spend.

After being married for so many years,  a vacation that was never coming my way,  I decided on my own to put the spatula down and go about my business.

My children had their own protests, even picketed my home, but in the end as we sat at the table and entered negotiations,  it was clear. Microwave meals were in, along with frozen pizza, hot dogs, ramen, and  cereal. If they could make it in under a minute, I would supply it. Junk food entered my home, this was actually  the problem after  divorce . My kids and I hardly ate junk food, drank pop, had fast food. Ok , occasionally  we ate fast food, or go to a restaurant, but not often.

Since divorce, I did keep some of my boundaries.  Like I cannot live in filth. I need a clean home.  I do follow a schedule for cleaning. A schedule for paying bills, kids dr appts, med schedules, laundry,  but I will not put a menu together to save my life.

This is not from lack of knowing how to cook either. I come from a long line of women who could cook their asses off. I ,myself, am a very good cook, ask my kids and friends. I have tried to understand  my thinking on this subject, and this was all I could come up with.  I HATE TO COOK! it’s just that simple. I don’t like the planning, shopping, am I making sure everyone will love it, then no one ever helps clean up. No, That’s all me as well. So the less food they cook, the less dishes, the happier I am. I do feel guilty occasionally,  but then I heard every damn report on kids and junk food and I waited for these pains in the butts, I mean my lovely children, to show signs of getting fat. Nothing. I didn’t put weight on until I was very depressed from my life/marriage , it was about 8 years ago. Up til that point I was always a size 5. I know what happened, I gave up on myself. I didn’t care any longer. After divorce, I gave up even more. What I saw as a break in a small area of my life was a huge impact on my kids and  myself. I haven’t been happy for a while, but that has changed,  all because of my Daddy.

Trying to get back into cooking, well I’m holding my own protest. There is no one to listen. And this time I have my Daddy, the voice of reason. Actually  He’s the only reason I am able to breathe, He let’s me!  There won’t be any negotiations  this time. There will be one winner,Him. I did food shop this week, like every week. Only this time I actually bought more than the usual  crap. I planned meals. Oh crap, I’m gonna be cooking again,  I can tell my time is up. I will be back in the kitchen to cook.

What went wrong with this idea. Where did it go off track. How did I lose. I could have sworn I was careful to think about every angle, every argument the children  might give me. The only idea I come back to, a one word answer, two syllables, DADDY. The only reason I have stopped dead in my tracks. The only person who could make me cook again.

Wait a minute…. was cooking part of my submission? Hey, I didn’t read the fine print on that. Did I really agree to let Daddy be in charge of everything? Really, He’s in charge of EVERYTHING? How did that happen.  Can I  negotiate this Daddy? I will do everything,  but no cooking. I’m thinking He wont care. I also know Him well enough that He is finding pleasure in my pain, and He never laid  hand on me. Damn He’s good. Little by little, inch by inch, He’s taking over my life, but then it’s hard to fight that, this is the happiest I have ever been. My kids noticed. I want to serve my Daddy, even if it means having to serve my kids.

Can I get a ruling on this???

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