Slow Cooker of Love

Here is some “new math” for you. In my house tonight, 1 + 1 = 4. Understanding this strange calculation will require a little background information.

I live with mild and treatable cases of both obsessive compulsive and generalized anxiety disorders.  At least they are mild and treatable when I remember to take my Zoloft.  J  I realized a while ago that my tendency to worry went beyond the norm and my coping mechanisms bordered on the weird.  I have no intention of going into detail here.   Maybe one day, in another blog, I’ll discuss the special brand of crazy that makes me who I am.  For now, suffice it to say, I’ve got some issues.

One manifestation of my OCD is the way I obsess about how I feed my family.  Over the past several years, I have become increasingly concerned about our consumption of highly refined, over processed foods.  My own dealings with compulsive eating and food addiction (yet another crazy card in the deck of my life) exacerbate my need to control what Gregg and the kids are eating.  At almost 6 years old, Addie & Gehrig have eaten almost no fast food.  Occasionally I will take them to Chick-fil-a, but that’s it.  (Well that’s not exactly true.  They had McDonalds for breakfast once at a sleepover.  That afternoon, Gehrig threw up all over the Costco parking lot.  Turns out, he had the stomach flu, but he’s convinced the Mickey D’s made him sick. I see no reason to tell him otherwise.)

What does any of this have to do with the bizarre math problem above?   Look below:

1 Girl with OCD + 1 Cancer diagnosis = 4 Slow cookers on my counter tonight.

It’s an understatement to say that cancer and OCD don’t mix well.  The aspects of my life over which I have no power increased exponentially with my diagnosis.  My daily life is now in the hands of doctors, nurses, and technicians.  Any formerly held illusions of control have completely evaporated.  Therefore, I’m trying to focus on the little things within my sphere of command.  I may have no authority over the cancer, but dammit, I’m still in charge of what my family eats for dinner.

Two of the slow cookers hold a combined 12 pounds of pork shoulder, which I will shred and mix with the barbecue sauce I have simmering on the stove. The other two slow cookers are full of lasagna (Don’t turn your nose up at the idea of slow cooker lasagna. It’s very tasty, and you’d swear it came from the oven.)   I will portion, vacuum seal, and label each meal before it goes into the garage freezer.  Oh – just in case you are wondering, I do not own four slow cookers.  I am indebted to three wonderful friends who love and support me even when I act like a nutcase.

This is just the beginning.  I have several other multi-portion meals in the works for this week.  My goal is to stock the freezer before the fatigue from chemo and radiation set in.  I know there are plenty of people around me who will gladly bring a meal over during my treatment, and I will welcome that help.  It’s just that cooking for my family is the one job that falls only to me in our home.  Gregg carries more than his fair share of the load.  If you divided a list of household chores, Gregg’s column would be disproportionately long. I’m not proud of this, as it speaks to my inherently lazy disposition, but I have to admit that my wonderful husband spoils me. The only thing this darling man requests is that I do the cooking.  Considering my love for all things culinary and my need to control what we eat, it’s not as if I’d let him cook, even if he wanted to. 

Finally, I come from a family that expresses itself with food.  Food is love, comfort, and solace.  We eat when we grieve and when we rejoice. We feed each other to nurture and express affection.  Is it any wonder I’ve got food issues?   I know, in the coming months, I’ll receive far more comfort and support than I will give.   I think that all of this cooking is some odd form of nesting.  It’s as if I’m stockpiling love and comfort in the freezer to compensate for how self involved I’m going to be this summer.  It doesn’t make much sense, but then again, neither does much else in my world right now.