Cooking with Kids: Trying to Cook with Kids in the Kitchen

When talking about cooking in the kitchen with kids, a lot of people have stories about the times that the kids helped, or hindered. My problem is just the kids being in the same room while I try to cook. We have a pretty small kitchen, and it's made even smaller by the presence of three high chairs. It's also pretty regular that my three kids are in those high chairs while I'm cooking. They'll either have a snack, or a spatula or something to bank, while I grit my teeth and press on.

On one spectacular occasion, I was attempting to make a Mexican lasagna. It basically consisted of ground beef with taco seasoning, black beans, cheese, enchilada sauce, tomatoes with green chili's, and tomato sauce.

So I'm putting it all together, and the kids are lined up against the wall playing with something or other, and I hear a loud bang. Elizabeth, who is closest to the counter, has pulled my cell phone, and cell phone cord out of the wall, and dropped it on the floor. No big. It's been slobbered all over and does no doubt have a very short life ahead of it. Well, as I'm bending to get it, sticking my head between her chair and the cabinet, somehow she's gotten the can of enchilada sauce and banging it on her high chair. She drops it, and now it's nicely dented.

So now I'm angry with her, and pull her to the other side of the kitchen. I scoot the other two high chairs over, so William, who is on the outside, is closer in and can see what's going on. I also turn him to the side so if I give him cereal, it won't go onto the carpet.

So now I have the enchilada sauce open and am trying to spread it. I hear a loud crash and turn around, and William has pulled my bucket of sippy cup tops off of the counter and onto the floor, also hitting himself in the head with the bucket. So he's crying, and I set the can of sauce down on the counter. I take him out of the chair and step back, knocking the enchilada sauce off the counter and all over my leg, floor, and dishwasher.

I get him calmed down, and back in the high chair. I clean up the mess, and assess the lasagna situation. I decide I have enough liquid with the tomato sauce, and it will be okay. So I start spreading the beans and tomatoes with chili's. At this point, all three kids are crying because it's now six o clock, and that's dinner time. So I give them cheerios to try to hold them off (which of course doesn't work), I top the casserole with cheese and stuff the thing in the oven. I set the timer for 45 minutes, and start making their chicken nuggets (I can't wait any longer, and they can have leftover's tomorrow).

About thirty minutes later, as I'm cleaning up the cooking mess, I start smelling a terrible burning. I throw open the oven, and my no boil lasagna noodles are charred to a crisp. I pull the casserole out, look over, and there is the tomato sauce.

There is practically no liquid in the casserole for it to cook properly. In all my running around, I've forgotten one of the main ingredients.

I look at the girls, and their little ketchup covered faces just grin.