It's Not Really About The Food

Growing up, I never thought I would be the type to be a little Suzie homemaker. It took a while to morph into the domestic engineer I’ve become. Sometimes I hate admitting that I’m somewhat of a cliché. The beauty part is, I don’t mind it. Sometimes I’m genuinely the happiest in the simplest moments. I like being in the kitchen, making special goodies for my family. I put love into all of it. Here’s the kicker, I’m a total feminist. My mother never told me to grow up, get married, and bake. She never told me who to be or what she thought would make me the happiest. I think sometimes she waited with bated breath as to who I’d become. I was kind of a wild card. After Jason and I got married, it became pretty clear to me that I wasn’t much of a cook. Before the internet, it took a lot of phone calls home to grannies to get recipes and they NEVER have an exact measurement; it’s pinches of this and dashes of that. Weird things I didn’t even know what they were.  “What the hell is hog jowl?”  As time went on, I developed a passion for it. It makes me feel good when my kids ask for that one special dish or baked good. I love watching Jason chow down and say, “That was good, momma.” He paid his dues. He choked down many a burnt meal without complaint in the beginning.

Today I’ve baked all day. I get the warm and fuzzies when it’s just us here at the house and I take a moment to step back and let my blessings wash over me. The kids laughing and playing, the dogs running through ripping the house apart are all little pieces that make this ours. Life can be brutal. It can chew you up and spit you out. A lot can happen in a year and this year has been brutal. I try to find the joy in the things I always have. It took a while to find that joy again at all and then there’s a weird pang of guilt when I do. Is it okay to laugh? Is it okay to have any Christmas spirit? I admit, I think I over-decorated this year to compensate. I can’t seem to find my happy medium yet. But cooking and baking, I can usually always find joy in. I just focus on what I’m making and know that it’s how I show my family I love them. They can all be holed up in their rooms but once the smell of something baking wafts up their rooms, out they come. Lily loves to help me cook. She asks if I’ll teach her. I absolutely will. I want my kids to look back and remember coming home from school to special treats. I take pride in my home and my family and I’m a lot more of a big dorky square than I ever imagined I’d be. We’re a little unorthodox around here with our sense of humor and shenanigans but we’re fun. We have to keep things fun or else it would be boring as hell. Let’s face it; this whole parent/marriage thing isn’t exactly a riot unless you put some effort into it. You gotta shake it up.

I see moments with my children when I realize I’ve taught them well. I see Drew interact with adults and he’s polite, respectful, and well-spoken. He holds doors and makes eye contact. They’re good kids and we did that. I’ll start work soon but no matter how busy or stressful life gets, I hope I always enjoy making our house a home. Jason’s guy friends tease him that he’s spoiled. He jokes by going to a light switch, turns it on and says, “Look at that! Came right on!” Get it? He paid the light bill? *eye roll* If you didn’t really know him or his sense of humor, one might misconstrue that he’s a misogynistic asshole. He’s just obnoxious, is all.

They are my life. They are my everything. I want their childhood to be filled with happy, warm memories. Some of my most fond memories as a child were not at expensive theme parks or events, they were in my jammies laughing at the weird language mom, Ryan, and I spoke. Every family has their own communication and way of interacting. A lot of it gets passed down to the way you raise your kids. A lot of habits that were acquired growing up, have trickled down with my kids. They are extremely close. I want them that way. They are forever. They will have each other’s backs when no one else does. If I’m lucky enough to go first, they are left to take care of one another. They are the mark I’ve left. I want them to appreciate each other and hopefully appreciate everything I’d tried to do for them. I fail all the time but God I’ve tried to be something for them. Even if it came in the form of cupcakes, movie/snuggle night, too many pets, cleaning up after them, telling them they’re beautiful, and a wicked sense of humor. I hope I’m irreplaceable to them and I hope no one ever makes anything that tastes quite as good as mom’s does. It’s more than cooking or baking. It’s way deeper than that.