I have many friends who adore cooking. Something just clicks for them in the kitchen, creative juices start flowing and they just seem to relax and get lost in the process. Fortunately for me and my family, one of these friends is my husband.
This is a huge relief for us because when I approach the kitchen one of two things happens.
1. I stare into a full pantry and refrigerator and see nothing. Nothing to create a meal or even a snack!
2. I enter the kitchen with a new recipe that even I can do that ultimately ends in frustration and ordering a pizza!
Cooking and I just are not friends and I am okay with this. Sure, I worry about passing on this trait to my daughters, but I have come to accept I am not a cook. Besides, look what a great role model my husband is in the kitchen. Who wouldn’t want to marry a man who can cook?
Of course, I can make a few basic meals, we wouldn’t starve if push came to shove, but basically my husband prepares the meals we look forward to seeing on the table.
But, something funny happened this Sunday. As I called the family to the table for a Sunday breakfast of homemade waffles, sausage and fruit I realized I am the only one in my family who cooks breakfast! I can cook up a mean batch of pancakes, french toast, and we all agree I make eggs (scrambled, fried or poached) better than anyone! If I am really feeling it I can even turn out biscuits!
These recipes are second nature to me and I enjoy making them! WHAT? Did I just say I enjoy making them? I did. There is just something about a weekend family breakfast that makes my heart smile. All of us gathered at the table, still in our pj’s, battling over the syrup, talking about the day ahead and the week passed. All this chatter somehow brings me into the kitchen ever Sunday morning to get lost in the process.
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