I love to cook! Like really, I love to cook. I watch cooking shows, I event recipes, I can cook my favorite menu items from most restaurants—I really love to cook.
But Caregiving has turned cooking into a chore!
My Mother eats 3 meals a day and has very poor eating habits. I am a firm believer that changing her diet can help with the high blood pressure, the high cholesterol, and the high glucose levels. And I believe that because I don’t have any of those things. It is NOT always hereditary. And so, I cook accordingly.
I am a person who only eats when I am hungry. I don’t eat because it’s Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner time but only when I am hungry. And living in California has allowed me to adopt very healthy eating habits. California is a land where the Farmers Markets are open year-round and people put a high priority on being healthy, looking good or both.
However, although I love to cook, cooking for my Mom is just another added responsibility on my long list of Caregiver’s responsibilities. My Mother eats 3 meals a day—just because. She has breakfast in the morning, lunch around noon and always dinner. I, on the other hand never eat breakfast. Ok that’s not true. I do sometimes eat breakfast but usually because events of the night before lead to breakfast the next day. That is definitely another story. My big meal of the day—at least before becoming a Caregiver, is lunch. In Los Angeles, “Let’s Do Lunch” was an activity I had perfected. And a big lunch, whether for business or pleasure, always led to a small snack for dinner or no dinner at all. That was unless of course Dinner was the activity of the day. As you can see, meals for me were more of an event, or simply an opportunity to provide my body with the needed nutrients. It’s different for my Mother. And so, I must cook.
I no longer ask my Mom what she would like me to cook as she typically choses something that I don’t want to cook or eat myself. I simply cook what I feel like cooking with the knowledge that she will eat almost anything. Don’t feel sorry for her. I am a great cook! Ask any of my friends or relatives and they will tell you. I am a “kick-ass” cook bordering on Chef status. And I can make something out of whatever is in the fridge or kitchen cabinet. Give me an onion, garlic, veggies and any protein and I will make you a meal you won’t forget. I consider it a welcomed challenge—kind of like the cooking show, “Chopped,” where the Chefs have to make something out of whatever is in the basket.
I can also prepare most of my Mother’s favorite dishes. Although she doesn’t seem to appreciate that fact. She can no longer cook; yet she seems to think that my cooking the things that she enjoys versus the things I would rather eat is her privilege. Thus, I feel a tad bit used and very unappreciated. Cooking three meals a day is a chore because left to my only devises, I would only cook one meal and not every day! That is, if I were not my Mother’s Caregiver, I would only be cooking for the pure enjoyment of cooking.
Every so often, when feeling particularly frustrated, I scream out, “This is not a Restaurant, and I am really not a Waitress!”
Cook, Waitress, Busboy—just a few more of the Caregiver’s daily activities.
Great photos