It makes me feel selfish: Once I get all my kids ready for school I have about five minutes of free time before we all have to start piling into the minivan. If we bring the slow cooker into the mix, I’d have to choose between using those few minutes to start the food prep or have a cup of coffee. And if those are my options, I’m choosing hot coffee. Every. Time.
It makes me feel anxious: I spend a fair amount of time feeling under-appreciated, and call me a pessimist, but I’m pretty sure the Crock-Pot experience would only add to that.
I can see it already: I’d spend my morning measuring, preparing and then cooking up this hearty meal only for my kids to walk in the door after school and proclaim, “Ewww, it smells disgusting in here.”
At least one or two of them would ask me if they have to eat it, which would fill me with sadness and resentment, and then I’d probably have to beg them to eat their dinner. And after all that I’d have to clean the darn thing.
So I know a few of you are probably annoyed by my ignorance of the joys of slow cooking, but to anyone who is tempted to come over and show me the error of my ways, don’t bother. I’m a lost cause.
But, if anyone wants to come over and loudly discuss how much they love their new jewelry, my husband will be home at 6:00.
This article originally appeared here.
