About two years back, I made the bold decision to stop cooking for my family. This shift coincided with the onset of the pandemic when grocery shopping became a challenge, and my partner took charge of ordering everything online. However, I suspect this transition was already underway well before that time.
And honestly? It’s been quite liberating.
Well, perhaps not so much for my kids. Occasionally, they’ll ask me what’s for lunch or dinner, and I just stare at them, thinking, “Why are you asking me?” Their father is here too! Plus, they know how to whip up a few basic meals! Our pantry is stocked with food—go find something to munch on!
They often look at me with a hint of sadness and manage to figure it out.
Look at them, honing their problem-solving skills at such a young age! I feel a sense of pride.
A Little Background
Before you cast judgment (I know some of you are already doing that), let me provide some context. I’m married, I speak two languages, and I homeschool four kids (ages 4.5 to 11.5). Both my partner and I work from home. We were raised in homes where dinner was prepared by our mothers every night, and while his family ate in front of the TV, we gathered around an actual dinner table.
As for our meals now? The kids handle their own breakfasts, and honestly, I’m not even sure what they do for lunch. Do the older ones make it? Do they snack on goldfish crackers all day? Does my partner sort out dinner? I suspect they must be having dinner together while watching TV, but I really don’t know nor do I mind.
It’s not my concern.
And before you suggest that since I gave birth to these kids, I should be responsible for feeding them—why can’t it also be my partner’s responsibility to feed them now? I’ve spent a decade doing it; I’m done. The whole meal process—from planning to shopping to cooking—has become a burden I no longer wish to bear. Ever since my midlife crisis kicked in three years ago, I’ve been prioritizing my happiness, and cooking isn’t part of that equation.
Now, you might be thinking, “But you must be eating, right?” Wrong! I’m not entirely sure what I eat these days either! I find myself scavenging for whatever I can put together, and honestly, I believe that’s always been my style.
If you asked me how I survived college, I’d struggle to answer. I ate out frequently. It’s not that I don’t know how to cook; I actually can cook decently well—I just lack the motivation.
Why bother cooking when the kids complain about everything I make? Sure, one could argue that cooking isn’t about seeking validation, but they seem to be eating just fine. Their bones may not be the strongest, but at least we’re keeping the vitamin and supplement industry in business! Everything will work out. It’s not like they’re suffering from scurvy, and they get plenty of sunlight, so no risk of rickets, right?
Look at me, doing the bare minimum!
Why the Judgment?
Sometimes, I feel guilty. After all, what kind of parent doesn’t provide food for their children? (Except I do provide food—they just need to prepare it themselves!) Surely I’m causing some harm to my four kids—food is essential, right? Family meals are often touted as crucial for healthy relationships and well-being, but why does it have to come at the cost of my happiness?
Yes, my kids and partner should be content too, but to my knowledge, they seem quite happy. They live comfortable lives, enjoying their time playing and learning and spending hours at the park. I’m sure they’d appreciate if I cooked at least one meal a day, but hey, we all have our desires.
When I pause to reflect (like now), guilt creeps in. Society has really done a number on mothers, insisting they should feed their kids three times a day. It’s overwhelming!
But why? Why does motherhood seem to demand that mothers do things they dislike? Why is it always about the sacrifices we make? Why is it acceptable for mothers to feel the need to drink just to cope with daily life?
Why isn’t anyone pressuring fathers about organic meals, maintaining a spotless home, or spending quality time with their kids? Didn’t the fathers contribute to creating those children too?
Look, I’m not saying I couldn’t be a bit more engaged with my kids’ meals. But it appears that many fathers merely show up for dinner, and no one’s saying, “Hey, you should take a more active role in your kids’ nutrition.”
Maybe I’m just over the emotional labor of feeding kids. Perhaps I’ve taught them enough to prepare simple meals themselves so that I don’t have to. And maybe my partner is finally stepping up to learn cooking and manage the emotional and physical demands of feeding our family of six.
And maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to cook again unless I truly want to.
For more insights on this topic, check out this blog post.
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