You know those times when you know exactly what to expect, and you can see everything planned out before you? Yeah, motherhood is not that. But every day I am so thankful to have my Everly, the most energized, curious, bright fourteen month old babe I’ve ever been lucky enough to call my child.
With that being said, being a mom is a job that is not for wimps. Period. And no matter what, you need to embrace the type of mom that you are. For me, I’m the working mom who teaches ‘tweens by day, and rocks the mom out of my afternoons and evenings. However, I am not domestic, like not one bit. I have many talents, and none of them are seen within the confines of my kitchen.
One Monday I was feeling like I had a little extra pep in my step, and while grabbing a few things at the store, I decided I would make dinner. I can make a meal with five ingredients I tell myself. I’ve done it before, probably not since being a mom, [or at least since I’ve gone back to work] but I can do this. My god, I finished a masters degree in education with a baby on my lap, I can cook a damn dinner.
Nope, I actually can’t.
In the time it took me to make said dinner, the following events occurred: I dropped three pans off the stove [all empty and cool, but heavy as hell] a mere two inches from where my daughter was playing. Close call, but alright. Next came the refrigerator magnet that doubles as a giant clip to hold papers [where you will find a stack of Joann’s ads]. I see Everly playing with it, and hey, she’s content, no apparent danger seen by this mom who is trying to boil water AND brown the turkey. That was until my daughter looks up at me, giving me her “I’m in pain cry” with the clip attached to the palm of her hand. Oops. Shortly after that, I hand Everly a large pasta shell, and within seconds of her eating something she has been consuming for months now, she is choking. Like, really choking, like patting her back very hard, and about ready to pull out baby Heimlich. Thankfully I didn’t have to move past the back patting, but man, now I was scared, and still had to get this dinner in the oven, my god, when would it end?
That is just about the moment when I realize I’ve forgotten a key ingredient. Great. I scour the pantry, nope, who am I kidding? I don’t stock basic cooking necessities. Meanwhile, I dig out a few pieces of dry cat food that my child has eaten from what she is sure is her treat bowl, drain the pasta, and get ready to stuff these shells and call it a night. Everly, now really needing my attention, is giving my leg the death grip. At first it is adorable, and loving, and making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But as I’m frantically trying to get this dish in the oven, my sweet Everly bites my leg, hard. My 14 month old is already biting when she doesn’t get her way, one of us is clearly going to need some counseling over this one. When all was said and done, that dinner did make it in the oven, it was consumable afterwards, sure Everly threw it in a three foot radius from her highchair, but at least it fed me for lunch a few days afterwards.
So what’s the point? Well, I know that I am still a great mom for all that I do, and those things that I don’t do, well, they get situated some how. I think before becoming a mom I was under the impression that all of these domestic nuances would find their way into my toolbox, but that just isn’t the way. I was told that I just needed “practice” in the kitchen, and that I would get the hang of it eventually. Maybe that is true for the women who want to be good at cooking, but for me, I’m pretty sure I’m sabotaging my existence in the kitchen. Sure, Everly is not going to grow up raving about my cooking, but hey, she’s got a daddy for that conversation. Instead, we will dance together, sing off key together, giggle and babble our days away together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Lyndsay Macri Lewis is teaching the tweens by day, and snuggling her sweet baby Everly by night. Married to her sweetheart Mike, she’s famous in some circles as the “shopping cart bride” and don’t let her tell you any different. For more of Lyndsay and her adorable family, you can find her at Olive Everly as she documents life with Baby Everly. Thank you, Lyndsay!!