The Discouraging CookBook

I planted some vegetables earlier this spring.

You might remember that last year I planted some tomato plants. I planted sixteen plants. I got three tomatoes. All of them were still yellow when the frost came.

Well, this year, I planted carrots, tomatoes, and beans. And fine, the beans were a bust. But I have lots and lots of little carrots! And every day more of the cherry tomatoes ripen. And there are quite a few green big tomatoes are threatening to turn red any day now. And I know it sounds silly, but I am SO proud of myself. It makes me want to plant more. Cucumbers! Onions! Corn! We will never buy grocery store produce again.

Except for one thing. The boys won't eat it.

I know, I know, the carrots look a little different. They aren't bright orange. But come ON! They are still carrots! And you picked them yourself from the little dirt patch in our back yard! That should count for something! At the end of the meal, I find myself throwing away a lot of things that I spent a lot of time growing and weeding and watering. And I try not to get too upset or take it too personally, but it breaks my heart a little.

It's not just the vegetables. Anything I cook gets scrutinized and picked apart. Most nights someone has shouted out "I'm not eating that!" before everyone has seated themselves at the table. Sometimes the boys will get the idea that I've tried extra hard, and try to make me feel better.

Kid - Mmmm, it's good! It's just a little spicy for me.

Me - It's Kraft BBQ sauce.

And then sometimes there's something like this:

Me - You haven't even tried it.

Kid - One time, at school, I tried this and it made my stomach hurt. But I didn't complain about it, so you didn't know.

I keep telling myself that some day, things will change, and I won't be able to keep food in the house. It's just... I'm so discouraged.