Life is too short to grate my own cheese. In addition, I have found that I possess neither the time nor the inclination to make my own pastry, bake my own muesli bars or separate my own lettuce leaves from the stalk.
I just can't seem to embrace the role of Catering Manager in our household. It just isn't for me. Shame, really. So, instead of gleaning joy from browsing a myriad of ingredients with which to lovingly create three course meals for my family, I get a kick out of ordering the items in my trolley just so. I pretend that there's a spot prize for the best organisation of trolley contents, which I would totally win by the way. I imagine that other shoppers are secretly jealous of my obviously neat and ordered life, rather than secretly judging me for obviously intending to purchase processed children's snacks.
Parenting guilt. There's always something. I feel guilty for not dehydrating my own fruit so M has something homemade to snack on. I feel guilty for not relishing the opportunity to cook for my loved ones and therefore show my love in a practical way. I feel guilty for not taking my toddler grocery shopping with me when other parents have to take theirs. I feel guilty for feeling guilty all the time instead of enjoying every moment, as if that is something that is even possible.
The thing is, I'm not really cut out for any of this. Thankfully, M hasn't seemed to notice. Yet.