I used to have a collection of refrigerator magnets. They were really cute: a tiny box of popcorn and a diet coke; a little iron skillet with fried eggs, you get the picture. Most of the cute ones are gone now. The girls fed some of them to their dolls, and one of my boys liked to play with little tiny things. I still have magnets, but now they are more verbal than tactile. One of my favorites says, “You’ll eat it and like it.” My other favorite is one that I made myself, from an article I cut out of a Good Housekeeping magazine, March, 2003. I was reminded of how true it is when I visited my children this weekend. I hope I won’t get sued if I share it with you. (author unknown)
“Cooking is an aesthetic adventure, a tangible accomplishment no matter how frustrating the test of the day might be. But, above all, cooking is a universal language of love, a source of comfort and solace that is instantly understood by anyone who sits down at your table. I cannot protect my children, who are now 14 and 11,from life’s hurts and disappointments. But when they get home at night, I can remind them, with my deeds as well as my words, that they are cherished no matter what.
When you have small children, you often feel as though you’ll be overwhelmed forever. But then one day you turn around, and they’re taller than you are, competent, and dauntingly self-sufficient.
“I find myself hovering over my children, asking if they need anything, and they just brush me off,” a friend of mine, the father of three teenagers, said plaintively the other day. “They have their own lives now.”
True. But you can always make them dinner.