I’m a boy, I live in a household where my mom is cooking and my dad works. But for my own family, I want to know how to cook so that my wife doesn’t have to deal with the hassle of cooking while I sit in the living room watching TV and drinking beer. For this project, because  I have dyslexia, therefore cookbooks add an extra level of difficulty to the project. So instead, I turned to the expert: my mom. I’ve seen her make this meal ever since I was five, and I know from experience that it is delicious food. So it only made sense that now I would learn how to be the creator of such a fine dish.

My mom, like all parents, wanted me to be great. Growing up she taught me a variety of skills that I have either found hobbies in or have improved my quality of life, such as having a general understanding of sewing and teaching me to read at a really young age. I now read for fun, collect books, and I sew holes or buttons on my family’s clothes when they need it. However, not all of these endeavors worked out. My family has a long history of talent in the arts, I come from a line of very talented dancers on my moms side (I have danced for about fifteen years), and musical abilities on my dads. My childhood was filled with my dad sitting with his guitar and singing to me and my cousins - which was a favorite piece of my life at the time, and a cherished memory now. My uncle is a musical prodigy, he can play an array of instruments, very well might have perfect pitch, and can play anything by hearing it just once. He was also in the Navy band. Sadly, I didn’t inherit the singing from my dad, or the instrumental talent from my uncle… not even a fraction of it. I learned this in a rather painstaking way when my mom - very kindly - got me a piano instructor, who happened to be a friend of theirs, and purchased me a keyboard. Looking back, I must have expressed some kind of interest in music - I love music - but I certainly wasn’t meant for it. Another detail for context is that since I was a kid, I have always been unnecessarily hard on myself, which can make learning new things difficult - but, as I’ve gotten older it’s gotten much better. Once a week, or so, I would sit down at my shiny new keyboard, and my instructor would come and teach me how to play, with my mothers smiling face watching and helping. I was four when I started these lessons, that was also the age that I got diagnosed with off-the-charts ADHD and was in the process of getting treatment. If you know anything about ADHD, there are different ways it can manifest and affect different people - one way for me, was it was entirely too difficult to sit still for periods of time. The combination of severe ADHD, pressure, age, and unenjoyment quickly turned into four year old me bawling my eyes out the moment my instructor walked in the door. That poor man, he truly didn't deserve that, he was a kind person… I just wasn't having it.