I love my kids.
I love cooking.
I do not love cooking for my kids.
I do not love cooking for 6 kids, with 6 different food preferences, 6 different opinions, and 6 loud voices to express those opinions. I do not love the ever present urgent demand for food as if they've woken up from a month long hunger strike at 6:30am and will disintegrate if they aren't fed within the next 47 seconds.
I do not love that when they are served a meal, I am served with am onslaught of "I don't want that, I don't want milk, but I want that instead, I need more, I need less, I don't like it because it's brown, I need a spoon, I said I don't want a spoon, where's my cup, why does he get the blue cup, I am starving, I hate meat, I only like meat, that noodle is weird, I don't wanna eat ever again!....."
Some parents dream of their children becoming doctors.
Some parents dream of their children playing in the major leagues. My dream, is that someday I can put food on the table and see 6 smiling faces shoving their faces happily, in silence, except to say "Thank you dear mother for this wonderfully tasty and nourishing meal."
Something tells me I am more likely to see 6 baseball players with their M.D.'s playing in the world series.