Last night, I made Dosa for dinner. Or at least, that was the plan 🙂
Like every time I cook something with a little extra effort, I was excited — maybe even a little proud. I was doing something good for the family. Something simple, healthy, made from scratch. I had soaked, fermented — all that. You know the drill.
But just before I started preparing, my spouse gently said, “I’m not in the mood for Dosa today.”
He was sweet about it. Explained why. Even apologized.
But still… that one sentence flicked a switch in me. Not because he was wrong — he wasn’t — but because it felt like: Ouch. All this effort, and no takers?
I told myself to brush it off and carried on.
Then came the kids. They ate. But reluctantly. You can always feel it when someone’s eating just to be polite. No one asked for seconds. No “Yum, Mum!” moments. Just quiet chewing and a little too much leftover chutney.
And I couldn’t stop hearing what wasn’t being said from myself to myself, “This isn’t as good as the restaurant one.”
And that stung even more.
You know what I realized? These small things — they aren’t really small.
Not when you’re someone like me.
I’m not the emotionally unshakable type. I’m not great at separating actions from intentions. I am a little too sensitive, a little too affected. And when something I do out of love lands wrong — it doesn’t just bruise my ego. It bruises my soul. Ouch!!
Now let me be clear — this isn’t about blame.
My husband was kind. My kids were just being themselves 🙂
This isn’t about them.
It’s about yours truly!!
As a parent — mum, dad, or just the household’s go-to person — you give so much of yourself. Not for praise. Not for attention. But still… when you don’t get that smile, or you that expected “love you” at your “appointed expected time”. Hooee that can be really hard!! Before you know it you are self analyzing and  questioning your worth, your efforts, even your presence!!Â
But here is where I am slowly learning to pull myself back…honestly it is my bitter pill to swallow
One dosa need not define me. One dinner will not measure my love.
And more importantly, my family’s reactions — however valid — don’t get to write my inner script.
I am learning (slowly, messily, but surely) that I can be sensitive and yet be strong.
That I can feel disappointed and yet still stay grounded.
That sometimes, people just don’t want dosa. And that’s okay!!
And while I speak from my own corner of emotion, I also want to say this:
I have the best family … my world my strength my weakness. Truly.
I don’t think many kids would so quietly and respectfully accept food they didn’t love — no drama, no sarcasm. And many spouses wouldn’t be as patient or gentle, especially when they had no part in the planning or prep.
So yes, this is my story.
My frustration.
My growth.
And most importantly — my gratitude.
I’m starting to be more conscious of myself…
And to not let the world — or a dinner table — or a bedsheet not folded correctly — decide how I feel about myself.
We are more than a moment.
We are more than misunderstood dosas.