Mommy’s Famous Carrots!


Today, I’m sharing a story about a meal I cooked for my family; but you are not going to want to add it to your recipe binder. Trust me.

This post will highlight my lack of culinary skills; but it will also highlight this truth: Your kids don’t need you to be super mom to think you are pretty dang super.

It was some time ago. Lily was pretty little still and H was a baby. I made what, looked like to me, the most boring, bland, unattractive meal in the history of homemade meals. I made the most beige meal ever, except for my bright orange carrots.

Like most nights, I had no idea what to cook. And to this day, I don’t recall why we didn’t use the barbeque. Maybe it was raining??? I don’t know; but I decided to cook some chicken on the George Foreman Grill. Gotta love the Foreman, right?? It left some “grill” marks; but the rest of the chicken was this sickly off – white hue.

And before you raise your hopes that I at least seasoned it well……….. nope. Just salt. Yup, boring white salt.

I then rounded out the meal with plain white rice and boiled carrots. Oh my, it hurt typing that last sentence……boiled carrots???

Before you rush over here with a group of friends to have an intervention on my poor family’s behalf, the carrots were seasoned with butter and garlic salt.

As I arranged this sad little meal onto our plates I was struck at the blaring blandness of this meal. I was embarrassed. I offered a sheepish, “Sorry guys; I’m not a good cook.” as I meekly shoved the plates under Andy and Lily’s noses. (Henry wasn’t eating solid foods  yet, lucky guy.)

The Hubs is a gem. He would be happy with cereal and the occassional slab of meat with side of bacon now and again. He has no expectations for me in the area of food making and he never makes me feel bad. He gave me the routine, “Jen, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

What came next is  a moment I won’t soon forget. Lily exclaimed. “Mom, I love your chicken and these carrots are the best! I’m going to call this Mommy’s Famous Carrots!” This dear four year old was being sincere. She genuinely liked what is quite possibly the worst meal I ever made.

I still have such a hard time coming up with dishes to cook for dinner. I actually cook on a regular basis now; so my skills have improved a little. A gourmet I am not; but my sweet girl, years later, still asks for Mommy’s Famous Carrots. And I gladly make them for her.




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