Motherhood Made Me a Domestic Goddess By Necessity
Let me start by saying, I am the farthest thing from a domestic goddess. Until I got married four years ago, my cooking repertoire consisted of scrambled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches, cereal, and…did I say scrambled eggs already? I had never ironed a shirt and I didn’t see the point of folding laundry when I could just toss the clean clothes on the guest room bed.
Over time, however, I have learned to cook a wide range of dishes (I don’t really like scrambled eggs, so I had to branch out), and I even invested in a laundry basket.
On the domesticity continuum, I now fall somewhere between mountain lion and house cat. I attribute this drastic improvement to having a baby. I now pour over recipe books trying to find the healthiest, tastiest recipes to feed my daughter, so that she can then fling these carefully-crafted delicacies onto the ceiling. Awesome.
I figure I probably spend at least 40% of my time on cooking and food-related cleaning (ok, so I’m really slow at cooking, and I tend to make a huge mess, but still!).
I had no idea when I signed up for this motherhood gig that the kitchen would be where I would spend most of my time. In my pre-motherhood days, I imagined raising children would be all finger-painting and fun. Ha! I must have been thinking of childhood, not childrearing. Childhood is (or should be) finger-painting and fun. Childrearing is cleaning the finger paint off the walls, and creating an endless supply of fun when you’ve had two hours of sleep. I’m not saying that raising a child is not fun (it is the greatest fun ever, in fact), but it is certainly not easy being a chef, a housekeeper, a therapist, a nurse, and the constant creator of fun, all at the same time. But I digress.
While I may not be domestically inclined by nature, I am coming to embrace this unexpected challenge that motherhood has given me. I feel proud when I cook delicious baby food, and I even look forward to teaching my daughter to cook one day. Obviously, there is so much more to motherhood than being a domestic goddess (or a partially domesticated pseudo-goddess). In fact, you can be a damn good mother without ever learning to use your oven (if you’re really lucky!). Still, I’m thankful to the little girl with peas in her hair for teaching me about the joys and frustrations of domesticity.
Photo Credit: janicecullivan.
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