Mom's Science Experiment

I cooked dinner last night. Too bad my first grader had already turned in his science fair project—the remains of my culinary escapade would have made a great display. My darling hubby was sick, and wasn’t in the room during the ordeal—which makes me eternally grateful. He already has more kitchen stories against me than he can shake a spatula at.

Here’s how my little science experiment went:
Purpose: To cook dinner for the family.

Hypothesis: I will burn, break, or bandage something before the night is over.

Procedure:

1. Defrost the meat, after throwing away some which had been in the freezer since Clinton’s first term.
2. Start the water for pasta, for once remembering to turn the burner on.
3. Open a can of fruit cocktail (or as it’s called in the Dyer house, “nectar of the gods”) and chill it in the fridge.
4. Place the chicken in the oven.
5. While helping Jordan with his homework, forget that the water on the stove has changed from a rolling boil to a roiling bowl. Place the pasta in the pan just before the last few cups evaporate.
6. Let the pasta cook and then drain it, setting pan aside and forgetting to turn off the burner.
7. Take the chicken out of the oven and set it on the still-hot burner on top. After dishing up dinner, hear something sizzling and realize I’ve set the glass dish on the burner—and the last piece of chicken is still cooking. (At least that was the one piece that wasn’t really “done”!)
8. Turn off the burner and put the dish in the sink; after turning on the oven fan (or as it’s called in the Dyer house, “the dinner bell”) to get rid of the smoke, pour cold water into the glass dish.
9. After cutting Jordan’s chicken up, hear something exploding. Turn around to find the glass dish in a million tiny pieces. Then vaguely remember that “extreme cold and extreme heat don’t mix.”
10. Finally, redeem the meal by showing Jordan the remains of the now-famous exploding glass dish, to which he replies, “That’s awesome!”

Result: While cleaning up the mess in the sink after dinner, I cut my hand. I have therefore broken a dish, burned a chicken, and bandaged a finger—all in one night.

I am culinary-challenged, to say the least. And sometimes, to be honest, it makes me feel like a less-than-stellar mommy. After all, what child doesn’t need a home-cooked goodie now and then to really feel their mother’s love, all the way down to their cute little toes?

But you know what I’ve realized—and finally made my peace with? Cooking is not my thing—and that’s okay! I can do a lot of other things well, and my guys like the “tear ‘em off the block” cookies as much as the home-baked varieties .I know this because they’ve had the other kind at friends’ houses, and never once complained about mine. Either that, or they’re too sweet to say anything!

Sometimes we moms put so much pressure on ourselves —pressure that God never intended for us to feel. But each of us does some things pretty well, and other things we need to let go. If we try to do it all, we’ll be done in.

So here’s my “Resigned, yet Joyful in the Gifts I do Have” conclusion to the aforementioned experiment:

For the Dyer family, it is not only wise, but physically safer, to have Pizza Hut, China Garden and Chop n’ Block Barbeque on speed dial. For when it comes to cooking, there is definitely a science to it.

~ Dena Dyer speaks and writes to busy women, encouraging them to make space for solitude, silence, beauty and grace in their daily lives. She also urges women to reawaken their sense of wonder and creatively add gracious touches to their everyday lives. Go to her website for a complete listing of articles and events.



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