Sometimes, making a bold choice is the only way to shake things up. When I decided to stop cooking for my family, their bewildered reactions ranged from “What are you doing?” to “Does this mean we’re on our own?” as they gawked at the sign I had taped to the fridge. Witnessing the shock and confusion unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of freedom.
For years, I’d fantasized about escaping to a serene getaway, imagining signs like “Mom’s Off to Hike the Appalachian Trail” or “Mom’s on a Soul-Searching Journey.” But instead, that day I did something different: I declared my kitchen closed and embraced the relief that followed.
I cherish the moments we gather as a family for dinner a few times a week, where I put thought and care into each meal. However, on other nights, we often settle for quick snacks while racing off to the kids’ activities. I lovingly refer to these rushed meals as “dinner on the go.” Family dinners typically include sharing highlights and low points of the day, exchanging compliments, and practicing good manners—well, at least that’s the goal.
Maintaining a peaceful dinner table atmosphere had become a daunting task in our family of six. If only others could witness the chaos that often erupted during our meals! Most dinners started with interruptions as siblings vied for attention; then, you could count on at least one child making a comedic gas escape while claiming it was an accident.
My husband, Brian, and I tried every trick in the book to restore order, from excusing kids from the table to turning sharing time into a game. We even resorted to consequences like sending them to bed without dinner. Despite our exhaustion, we continued to implement “Parenting with Love and Logic” techniques, but one particular evening, it all fell apart.
That night, spaghetti was on the menu, and I can still picture Brian and me demonstrating how to twirl it gracefully on a fork. Our four kids, however, devoured it like they were in a food competition, laughing and teasing one another as they disregarded our polite dinner etiquette reminders. I must admit, it was hard not to laugh when our youngest started dancing in his seat after being excused to fetch milk.
In an attempt to regain control, Brian ended the dinner abruptly, prompting me to escape for a long walk in the woods. I resolved to return only when they had finished cleaning up or at least were safely asleep. Reflecting later, I wished I had seized the opportunity to head off on a true adventure, but instead, I returned the next morning to announce, “Mom’s Kitchen is Closed Until Further Notice.”
My kids, accustomed to my daily meal prep, were taken aback. “No packed lunches?” my elementary-aged kids exclaimed. My oldest two believed they could navigate this new reality without any consequences and quickly set about making their own lunches.
Dinner that night was a revelation: my sons asked, “What’s for dinner?” to which I casually replied, “Not my problem!” My daughter lamented that there was nothing to eat, and I shrugged, “Bummer!” My 10-year-old took initiative, crafting his “famous” layered lunchmeat sandwich, while my 7-year-old requested assistance from my 12-year-old to make oatmeal.
As I relaxed with a glass of cabernet and caught up on the news, I took delight in witnessing their teamwork. My daughter even fried herself an impressive egg sandwich, showing a newfound confidence. I began to wonder how long they could survive on oatmeal and sandwiches, especially when my youngest begged for a McDonald’s trip—using his own money, of course.
By the third day, they grew tired of their limited options, and my husband, who usually thrived on snacks, seemed the most affected by the lack of meals. “Tell the kids how much you miss my cooking,” I encouraged him, hoping it would bolster their resolve. I even made a meal in front of them, hoping to inspire them to take charge in the kitchen, which they eventually did, learning to grill their own Reuben sandwiches.
I could have kept this up indefinitely, but when our cousin came to visit, I felt compelled to make a proper dinner for him. I challenged my kids to behave appropriately at the table, and miraculously, they managed to do so. There were no interruptions or antics, just polite laughter and gratitude shared over the meal. I breathed a sigh of relief that evening.
After a week, I took down the sign. However, I believe it left a lasting impact. Brian has stepped up to co-parent more actively, the kids now help prepare Sunday dinners, and I’ve regained my peace and respect in the household. Still, I can’t shake the dream of a vacation.
In summary, taking a break from cooking not only reminded my family of the effort that goes into meal preparation but also encouraged them to take responsibility in the kitchen. It became a lesson in teamwork and respect.
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