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Mommy’s Little Helper

There are very few things in life I can admit to being really really ridiculously good at, and cooking is one of them.

<hipster>I even used to have a weekly recipe thing on my blog, way back before it was cool to be a foodblogger. </hipster>

I believe with everything I am in family dinners, and I believe that those dinners can and should be well-balanced, made fresh, have something green in/on/near it, and most importantly, easy and cost-effective.

I also believe that every rule on Earth was made to be broken.

Just a few weeks ago, after my usual mad daily scramble to make a Monday dinner of salmon, a Tuesday dinner of steak and a Wednesday dinner of curried chicken, my children came to me and asked, “Mom, can’t you just bake us some spaghetti? Grandma bakes us spaghetti.”

*Baked* spaghetti? The Grandma Card? Ingrates.

But they have a point. I totally over-think dinner most nights, doubly so on the rare night their father is home. Being a foodie, I always get the “dinner” part down, but sometimes forget that the “family” is the healthiest part of the equation. We can spend thirty minutes together over bowls of heated up spaghetti soup as easily as we can over chicken and potatoes.

Plus, dinner in five minutes, one pan and four bowls to wash after, and three happy kids. Cue clouds parting and angels singing.

So, hi. I’m Mr Lady, and sometimes I feed my kids preservative-filled genetically modified crap out of a can for dinner. And we’re all happier people for it.

{Awkward confession, or why the internet sucks: This wasn’t actually my first time.}

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