30 minutes to redemption.

I am a new fan of Rachel Ray. (I'm pretty sure, however, that I've misspelled her name and I am too lazy to google it right now.)

When I started working part time, I thought I'd have so much free time. I figured my house would be clean, I'd share cooking responsibilities, and we'd be a happy and perfect American Family.

Happy, I got right. The rest of it? Not so much.

I forgot that I'd be working part time at one job... and part time at another. Which means that I'm so busy in all of those part time hours that I don't have any down time to... you know... blog and stuff. Nor, apparently, to cook. Or clean.

But I have discovered that, on occasion, when I plan in advance, I can pull off a quick and easy dinner. One new recipe that has quickly become a staple is the mini-meatball chicken soup- minus the spinach. I first had it at my mother-in-law's (Mimi's) house, and I quickly adopted the recipe as my own.

Now, in the greater Raising Mommy family, soup making responsibilities usually fall wholly on my mother (other then Matzoh Ball soup, which I have yet to attempt, and is a specialty of Mimi's). When my mom makes the girls homemade chicken noodle soup, they eat bowls and bowls of it. If I make the same soup... they push the bowl away, untouched. It is the same recipe, but maybe my water tastes different or I don't have the right magic dust or something. I have even, on several occasions, taken my mom's soup home and tried to cook noodles and feed it to the girls, and they still won't eat it. It is very frustrating.

But tonight, all was redeemed. I made my mini-meatball soup for dinner (or rather, I took some out of the freezer that was left over from the last batch). I added elbow noodles and made Cosette a huge bowl. Then I turned around and scooped a bowl out for myself, and before I could even take a bite, Cosette asks for "More soup! More meatballs!" I was quite pleased that I had, somehow and at long lost, found an acceptable soup recipe. I re-filled Cosette's bowl, and she looked at me and commented: "Nonna makes the best soup ever."

The shame! My own daughter automatically assumes that someone else made this delicious dinner, someone else besides me. Hurt, I replied "No, Cosette, Nonna didn't make this. I made it."

"You made this? You made this soup mommy? Not Nonna?"
"Yes, Cosette, I made it."

"Oh. Then mommy, you make the best soup ever!"

Sorry, mom! But I just did a little happy dance. However, several facts did not escape my notice. One: the first time I fed them this same batch of soup, it was apparently inedible. Two: When Mimi prepared the soup for them, it was delicious. Which means Three: they just don't trust my cooking. I find that somewhat insulting. (Oh, and Four: Yes, I did misspell Rachael's name earlier.). Maybe now I am finally on the road to redemption.