Today has been a day where I have spent a lot of time in the kitchen and it has been a day of mixed feelings also.
Cleaning and tidying was therapeutic and I actually quite enjoyed it for a change.
Then I set about making the first lots of things for Caius’s birthday on Saturday. That went really well and I had a really good time listening and singing to music whilst I worked and feeling happy about making surprises which will hopefully make him smile.
After this though it was dinner time and I was making a new recipe to try out on the Smalls, it was all going well – following on from the earlier success – until about half way through when I suddenly thought, they aren’t going to eat this.
Then I lost the good feeling. I felt tired and fed up and irritable. Not even the methodical cleaning up once most of the cooking was done and the food was in the oven made me feel better.
I was right, they mostly didn’t eat it and for once their screwed up ‘I don’t like it’ faces didn’t amuse me. They just made me feel despondent.
What exactly was the point in working so hard to cook everything and make it look nice when it just gets pushed around the plate and left to congeal?
All of that had left me pretty grumpy and low so I am hoping that the impromptu visit from my friend later is going to cheer me up so that I stop yelling at everyone.