The Question

As a parent, I get asked a lot of questions.  Like so many.  Nonstop.  It’s all the time questions.  I feel like for the most part I do a pretty good job of listening and answering and listening and answering and listening and answering.  The questions come in all shapes and sizes: Where are my socks? Do we have any crackers? Can you bring me a towel? Can I sit in the front seat? Can you wake me up early? Have you seen my charger? When are we leaving? Does she have to come with us? Can my friend come home with me? When are you washing clothes? Where is my uniform? 

So. Many. Questions.

But in all honesty, I can handle these questions, no problem.  There is only one—one question—that is like the mother of all questions. The one that I just never want to hear and that I really never know what to do with.  

“What’s for dinner?”

AAAAGGGHHH! That one question gets me every single time.  I know it’s coming, I know they are going to ask it.  Sometimes I have a plan, and sometimes I do not.  It doesn’t matter if I am prepared or not, it’s still the one that sometimes is just too much to answer.

Back in the day, my hubby was a school administrator, I was a teacher, we were both in grad school, and we had three young kids.  To say life was hectic would be an understatement.  Often times when the kids asked, “What’s for dinner?” my response most nights would be whichever fast food place we could get in and out of before our evening commitments cranked up that night.  You would think that serving up happy meals each night would keep kids happy…but no.  If I said, “McDonald’s,” the kids would say they wanted pizza.  If I said, “Pizza Hut,” the kids certainly were going to want chicken instead.  If I said, “Popeyes,” at least one would disagree and say, “I thought we were going to McDonald’s.” All of that to say, that even when our dinner choices consisted of rolling up to a window and them choosing anything on the menu, it was still something to be discussed and compromised.

When I had resigned my job as a teacher and started staying home with the kids full time, I thought, this will be great.  I will be home all day, I can plan out our meals and cook and everyone will be happy. Yeah, turns out that wasn’t quite the answer either.  Around that same time my hubby and I made some major diet changes for health reasons.  I learned very quickly that my kids were not at all on board with eating strictly whole-food plant-based meals.  To be honest, we were in the beginning stages of learning what we did and did not like as well.  It was then that I started to basically cook two meals every night…one that followed the guidelines for whole-food plant-based and one that did not.  And for a while, people seemed happy.

But that eventually wore off as we all grew tired of the same old same old and as some of our dietary needs changed.  We learned that some of us do much better eating only foods that are gluten-free.  Seems like we could all just go gluten-free but some are strictly against it because apparently there are some texture issues there.

So picture this…we are feeding seven people, some eat meat and dairy and some do not, some eat lots of fruits and veggies and some do not, some can only eat gluten-free and some do not.  Not to mention sometimes someone may decide they are on their own strict diet as they prepare for sports tryouts or get ready for cheer competitions.  The list goes on and on.

I can tell you this,  when I was growing up, there was none of this, “We had this last week” or “What else is there?” or “Eww.” I specifically remember as a kid asking my mom, “What’s for dinner?’ and she would respond with whatever one thing there was to eat that night.  If we didn’t like it, and were brave enough to say we didn’t like it, she would literally tell us, “Then your next best option is to go next door and see what the neighbors are having for dinner because this is it over here!”

I can assure you, none of us ever left to go to the neighbor’s house.

To tell you the truth, I really do enjoy feeding my family.  I love when I can prepare something wonderful and healthy for them and everyone can enjoy the meal and the time together.  I love that.  But that’s not always how it goes down.  I know I could say, “Just eat it,” and sometimes I do, but the reality is, sometimes I do not.  And sometimes I work really hard on something and it’s just not good, or they just don’t like it, or we just can’t all agree on whether or not we like it, or we just don’t want it.  It’s these nights that I think I don’t ever want to cook again and if this is a game, I’m certainly not winning.

Then there are other times where I don’t plan or cook anything at all and we simply pull out the box of pancake mix and have breakfast for dinner (regular mix and a gluten-free mix, of course).

The truth is, kids gotta eat.  The truth is, I gotta feed them.  And the truth is, it doesn’t have to make everyone happy and it doesn’t even have to be good for them.  I have found that when I can let go and say, “Yes, you can have frozen gluten-free chicken nuggets for the fifth night in a row,” or “I have no idea what’s for dinner, how about you cook something,” things sometimes go more smoothly.  So far, no one here has starved and, as far as I know, they’ve not knocked on the neighbor’s door. If they do, just send them back home and tell them to make some pancakes!