I really just should not be allowed in the kitchen at all

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I am not naturally talented in the ways of the culinary arts.

I did not seek out instruction when I was younger, because I honestly believed that cooking was something that everyone could do well, that just came on as you got older.

It does not.

Not all cooks are created equal.

Not even close.

When I was pregnant with Jena, we took a babymoon to the Smoky Mountains. I distinctly remember eating breakfast at a pancake house, when I had a complete, sobbing breakdown over my pancakes. Oh yes, I'm sure hormones were involved, but more importantly it dawned on me that my child, the baby in my belly, might one day like pancakes... and I didn't know how to make them.

Not for lack of trying.

I had tried, and failed, several times to make basic pancakes.

While I didn't know how to make them, I also knew it wasn't rocket science. But I just couldn't do it.

(incidentally, Jena does like pancakes, and just last week I made my first batch of not-horrible pancakes - yay me!)
I've thrown out too many recipes to mention. Messed up too much food. Wasted too much money on ruined attempts at cooking. Set off the smoke detectors more times than I care to admit.

There's a reason most of the "cooking" done at our house comes prepackaged and ready to go. Time constraints and convenience are only part of the story.

When I say my husband is a much better cook than I am, I mean it. I'm not just trying to flatter him. I'm not just trying to get him to cook more (although really, he is better, so shouldn't he? LOL). He really is better in the kitchen than I am.

And I'm okay with that.

I can manage. I get my family fed. I have a few simple dishes that get the job done. I wouldn't mind experimenting and finding a few more in the future, if I had some spare time (my mom, since she has retired, as enjoyed having time to expend her cooking reportoire, as might I).

What does bother me, is the simple things.

That I struggle to make pancakes. That I had to have an egg separator explained to me. That we got a food processor for our wedding that has never been used because I don't know what it's for.

That this morning, I couldn't make a freakin' smoothie, made a mess all over the kitchen, and tonight will have my husband show me how to work the blender.

That bothers me.

The simple stuff.

I try not to let it get to me. Because we can't all be good at the same things. But still.

Sometimes I think I just shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen at all.