I love cooking competition shows. I mean, I, really, really love them. Top Chef, Knife Fight, Kitchen Nightmares, Iron Chef… that shit is the bomb.
You will often find me making dinner watching episodes from the DVR while hushing the children… “I wanna see Anthony Bourdain rip this guy a new one. Can you just give me a minute.”
Of course, due to that fact that my whole life is based around taking care of my family and playing out little mini movies of things that might never happen in my head, I came up with an idea…. Ding, ding, ding. Can you smell it? That’s me, thinking. This IS your mother’s cooking show.
It started with this FB post…
“I used to really like Top Chef.
But now that I have a bazillion kids I think Top Chef is bullshit.
Now here’s a cooking show idea that we would all totally watch…. Take a world renown chef and strap a 3 month old baby on them in a front carrier, then give them a 9-year-old who needs help with 6 pages of algebra…. and just for shits and giggles, chuck in a 3-year-old who wants to “help them cook”.
I really think this could be a cool ass show. But replace world renown chef’s with just parent chefs… people who have kids who try to actually cook a meal. Shit, even if you’re just taking something out of the freezer with a gaggle of kids… that’s still cooking. I’m down.
So tonight, as I had to run off to soccer, I thought more about Life Chef, now it’s a kinda funny baby to me… and I posted more on my FB page…
“Tonight, on Life Chef, our favorite Outnumbered Mother hits up the last soccer game of the regular season with the whole fan-damily in tow.
Can she reheat the rigatoni afterwards without everyone starving to death, while wearing the baby, giving 3-year-old a bath and helping the oldest with a 3-d diorama of Ferdinand Magellan (that’s due on the 30th and she just found out about today)?
But sadly, tonight wasn’t my night… I can see Bravo with the sad music as my update episode plays…
“If you’re been waiting with bated breath for tonight’s Life Chef results….
I would have been kicked off the show.
Got home, heated oven, put baby to bed, got big guy in PJ’s, played a game with middle monkey and then, only then, realized I had yet to put the rigatoni in the preheated oven.
“Outnumbered Mother… please pack your knives, your front carrier, your paci’s, your pack N play, your son’s algebra HW, your annoying toddler, your husband, your baby, your older son, his soccer ball, your shitty attitude and go.”
Padma Lakshmi would be happy to see our 5 little silhouettes fade into the horizon.
After all, she’s a Mom now too…