What Was I Thinking?!

I wish I could claim that I whipped up gourmet meals from scratch nightly and that I only feed my family whole grains, organic vegetables, free range meats and that my kids only snack on Soyjoy bars and freshly squeezed acai juice. But alas, I'm not gifted in the kitchen and my taste buds are rather unsophisticated. In fact, I don't really enjoy cooking at all. To me it is one more thing I have to do and I'd rather spend my time finding ways to avoid doing it.

The staples of my poor childrens' diets are chicken nuggets, canned veggies, mozzarella cheese sticks and cups of mandarin oranges. When I "cook" it means I made a box of Kraft mac-n-cheese and chopped some hot dogs up to throw in it. Now don't balk- because I'm awesome at making Hamburger Helper or Sloppy Joes with a side of canned green beans. Prepare to get your butt whooped if you plan to throw down with me over who makes better frozen waffles for breakfast.

I seriously have only about 10 dishes that I can truly claim that I can make well- and would be proud to serve people. Beef Stroganoff, Pot Roast, Beef Stew, Chicken Salad, Spaghetti Meat Sauce, Manicotti, Meatloaf, Chicken Fried Steak, Hamburgers and Peach Cobbler.

So tonight I ventured out of my box and I tried something new. I felt adventurous. Yes, you could say I had a wild hair. I located the cookbook bought in 1998 written by the old ladies at the local Methodist Church in celebration of their 100th year. It took a few serious blows and heavy wipes to remove the dust from the cover and the spine still cracked like new when I inched it open. But I had high hopes. Tonight I would cook!

Sour Cream Chicken Enchiladas..... yum.... the recipe practically begged to be made. Seemed simple enough, chicken, green chiles, sour cream, tortillas, onion, cream of chicken soup... yes, this may be possible after all. It was decided. I had images in my head of my children wolfing it down and begging for more. "More Mommy, More! Three cheers for Mommy! Hip, Hip Hooray! Mommy you're the best cook in the whole world!"

I relished this thought as the chicken boiled and the onions were chopped. While sauteing the onions I imagined how impressed my husband would be to come home to a house filled with the aroma of a hot and delicious dinner baking in the oven. I just knew that he would wrap his arms around me and sweetly whisper how amazing I am in the kitchen... surely the children would be put to bed early (in their own rooms) tonight!

As I took the casserole dishes out of the oven, I beamed with pride! Tonight I was a chef! I could hardly wait to get dinner on the table and see the admiration in my the eyes of my family as I ceremoniously placed the masterpiece in front of them.

The phone interrupted my thoughts and brought my daydream to a screeching halt. It was my husband. (He was going to be so proud of me.) I could hardly contain my excitement when I asked him what time he would be home from work. He was already 30 minutes later than I expected.

Fast forward 10 minutes. The kids are sitting at the kitchen table with their noses scrunched up. My oldest has not yet mastered the art of hiding her feelings. My piece de la resistance, the beautiful, made from scratch sour cream chicken enchilada dinner has been placed before each of them with a spoonful of sweet corn on the side. The youngest angel announces,

"That yucky!"

While the oldest contributes,

"Ewww, what ARE the slimy green things and clear slimy things?"

My hopes for the "three cheers for mommy" are long gone by now. So I show the children how to eat the top layer of cheese then hunt ("Its like a surprise adventure!") for the chicken pieces and tortillas. Piles of green chiles and onions are left like fallen soldiers on a battlefield. I look at my own plate then shovel in the first bite.

Although I didn't get the rounds of applause from my children, accolades of my culinary greatness- far from it, the amorous propositions from my husband (who had to work late) were nil, nevermind even a simple "thanks mom"- it was still worth the trouble. The recipe turned out pretty good if I do say so myself. I guess that little old Methodist lady really did know that she was talking about.

I needed to focus on the positive. My children got to try a new dish, whether they liked it or not. Each ate half of what I gave them to start with and I only had to add extra shredded cheese to my daughter's to make it more palatable. I felt good for branching out and trying on the role of Holly Homemaker.

I patted myself on the back for a job well done as I washed the dishes. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the fridge being opened and a few seconds later I hear the beep notifying the whole house that the fridge remained ajar. My daughter, the one who wasn't hungry when offered my fabulous dish, has her head stuck in the fridge and is making a suspicious noise resembling munching. Upon investigation I discover she is scarfing cold, leftover chicken nuggets from her lunch, straight out of the ziploc bag. Yes.... I could have stuck with the aforementioned "staples" of my childrens' diet and they would have been happy. But no. I am a mom who "goes the extra mile for her kids". Well, at least once a year.

So maybe when my husband gets home...around 11 PM... he might notice how I spent my afternoon and perhaps if I don't get that romantic proposition for my culinary talents, then maybe he'll feel guilted (Did I mention that he is 5 hours late and still isn't home?) into being extra sweet to me at least for the next day or two.

This might turn out to be a good deal after all.