She watches my every move, looks up to me to see what I will do next and repeats with much accuracy. My daughter, my little mini me. She carries her babies around like I carried and still carry her, she plays with my makeup when I get ready attempting sometimes to put it on and when I am in the kitchen she demands to be picked up to see exactly what I am doing. The other day while playing in her kitchen I suggested she make a pancake for her baby. A minute later when I peaked around the corner I found her flipping a pancake on her stove and carrying it over to her baby she had placed in her highchair, looking so proud when she saw me. We all at some point end up on Cooking Street. I grew up in a household where the tofu was abundant and the salt was scarce. I escaped next door on tofu nights to have what I considered “normal food” after being told tofu came from rotten soybeans. I never spent much time in the kitchen unless it was to bake something, never being allowed many sweats, however we always had chocolate chips so cookies it was or sneaking away to the candy store 3 blocks away with whatever change I had saved up. My love for baking taught me to follow the directions but I never learned to season a dish to taste or get over my fear of not cooking chicken enough in turn, turning it into a lovely piece of rubber. Until recently I have lived my whole life giving myself the title of “I’m not a good cook” or “I didn’t grow up learning how to cook” feeling extremely lucky when I make a meal that my family and I like, especially my husband, who can throw anything together and make it taste amazing. So many times I would spend hours making dinner only to throw it out and order something in or go out, all boiling down to the fact that I never looked up in the kitchen, never looking up and believing I could create something amazing. Becoming a mom I promised myself that I would get over this belief and create a new one, that I am an amazing cook. Flip from telling yourself the negative to telling yourself the positive and you can open many doors. Now I enjoy planning and making a new dish and am filled with so much joy when my husband cleans his plate and has seconds and even more joy when my daughter demands I hold her on my hip to watch, to look up, to fill herself with the belief that she can do it too. One day she too will be an amazing cook. Whether you are having a hard time on cooking street or a different street in life, look up and believe in yourself.
BrielleStreet7 