What's for Dinner?

Whenever I wonder what's for dinner, I feel a slight panic fluttering around my middle. The later in the day I pose that question to myself, the greater the panic. It's a combination of having picky children and gargantuan reluctance to prepare anything more taxing than canned soup with a peanut butter sandwich. At the risk of sounding like a slacker mom, I have practically zero interest in cooking on most days. Adding to my angst are two packages of buy-one-get-one-free chicken thighs that were too cheap to pass up. So, what do I do? My favorite way to prepare chicken is to braise it--that is to brown it, remove it from the skillet in order to brown vegetables like onions and garlic, and herbs and seasonings. All I have to do after that is pour enough water or broth over to barely cover it and then simmer it until it's done. I like cooking dishes that require little preparation up front and can finish largely unattended. This is why my family is tired of chicken stew. Still, I figure if I perfect my technique I can come up with easy dishes I can prepare with little fuss, leaving me plenty of time to do other things. With a little inspiration and planning, my meals can practically cook themselves, right? So I made this dish--a teriyaki-like variation on Chicken Surprise--in which I browned the pieces, sauteed the garlic, added a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, and the zest and juice of one lemon, and pour 3/4 cup of water over it. The chicken pieces were not swimming in the deep end the way they do when I cook them in the slow-cooker. They were healthy, full-grown chicken pieces sitting in the baby pool. I wanted to submerge them, but the memories of countless bland chicken stews flashed across my mind. I let my chicken thighs go wading. While the chicken cooked, I started a pot of brown rice. Brown rice is supposed to be healthy, but the real reason I cook it is that I'm sadistic mom who lives for feeding her family unappetizing food. When the chicken was done, I went to battle with it to separate the skin and bones from the meat with a pair of kitchen scissors and a table fork. That I am still a carnivore after years preparing meat is a testament to my moral weakness. I really do despise cooking meat of any kind. But in the end, I had dinner ready--delicious Chicken and Rice Teriyaki Surprise. The only problem: what's for dinner tonight.

The Joys of Parenthood

I had no idea that as a parent, I would spend so much creative energy devising painful punishments for my children. Oh, I forgot, I'm supposed to call it discipline. No matter, I can still add "prison matron" to my list of professional titles as a working mom. My almost ten-year-old is grounded, sentenced to 10 days of solitary confinement in her room. We let her out for meals, bathroom breaks, school, and lessons in housecleaning. Yet she continues to be disobedient, disrespectful, and defiant. She refuses to take responsibility for her actions, insisting that "everyone is so mean." My patience is worn to a frazzle, and I've gone from, "Oh, do you need me to take away your new American Girl doll for a few days?" in a gentle, let-me-keep-my-temper voice to screaming, "I've HAD it! You've gone way TOO FAR!" I can tell myself that I'm going through a "testing phase," that my daughter is growing and learning some tough life lessons, but what I'm really wondering is how I can knock some sense into that hard head of hers. Right now, I'm thinking that one of the answers is repetition, repetition, repetition. I can do some deep breathing and call upon the Law of Karma. Whatever you dish out comes right back to you. You give out ugly, ugly is what you get right back in your face. You have to face the consequences of your actions. I figure it I say it often enough, even when my daughter claps her hands over her ears, eventually it will sink in. Much of parenthood involves manufacturing consequences (no TV for a week!) but with a little creativity, a mommy can allow the natural consequences to unfold. Coat, backpack, socks, shoes, and child can sit on the porch while mommy locks the front door and heads to the bus stop. Plates can be whisked away in the face of a glaring lack of table manners. Mommy just has to be creative and think on her feet. On the bright side, perhaps my problem solving skills will become sharper as a result of all of this. After all, someone has to learn something. As they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.