Too much cornstarch
As part of the general winter is blah experience, I’m struggling to be inspired with meal planning. We have a list of things we eat over and over, we choose some things before we go shopping, we eat those things. Though, by the way, for almost two years we’ve been doing what I’ll call a partial Ana–we eat the same thing Tues-Thurs, and for work lunches, I prep a bunch of salad stuff and take it to work so I can have delicious, nutritious salad all week, which I am remarkably not tired of yet. Those posts were great.
So I look for recipes online, and try new things, and they are almost always disasters. Like the other day, I rushed home from work to go shopping, rushed through the shopping, rushed home to try a new recipe. The babies were extra screamy, so concentration was at low ebb. There was a critical moment where instead of adding two tablespoons of cornstarch dissolved in water, I added three tablespoons of cornstarch not dissolved in water, and when I added the sauce to the hot noodles…uh, it’s difficult to describe the result. My perfectly nice soba turned into an…Object. A hard, sticky, greasy-yet-powdery Object. Thankfully, Mr. Bunny was kind about it. In fact, he reported that the Object totally cheered him up and was the high point of his day. We did not eat it. We had the frozen mozzarella sicks I’d bought to keep the babies entertained while I was out of town.
When I have a disaster, I take it hard. I feel like I can’t cook. I resent the wasted time and ingredients, the dashed expectations. You know, I was supposed to be preparing an amazing meal while my spouse took care of the screaming children, not making inedible slop.
So now’s the part where I tell you it’s about more than cooking. It’s also about my job. This week I did the analysis for a project I’ve been working on for THREE YEARS (data collection was just insanely slow), and the results show a big pile of nothing. I’m taking it hard. I feel like I can’t do research. I resent the wasted time and labor, the expectations. You know, I was supposed to be being brilliant and making the world a better place through the pursuit of knowledge while other people took care of my children.
It’s also about my parenting. I’m currently facing the fact that all of the trying I’ve been doing around a particular parenting issue may have been prolonging the problem. I’m taking it hard. I feel like I can’t parent. I resent the wasted time and labor, and I’m questioning my approach to every damn thing.
I’ve gotten a million times better at picking myself up after getting beat down. I don’t get stuck in the negative self-talk (I’m worthless, I’m a failure) loop anymore. I usually write it out and let it sit, and the sting fades pretty quickly. But you know how sometimes one part of your life sucks and you take comfort in the other parts? Right now it’s a convergence of I put too much cornstarch in that and I really wish I hadn’t.