And to prove it GO HERE…unless you don’t have xanga, and then I’ll just wait for the okay to reprint it here.
UPDATE…she said I could reprint it…look below!
Of Sauces and OtherGreat Philosophies - by FRTNRMAMA
“When did I learn to cook?”
The question made me pause in stirring my sauce Sunday. I distinctly remember a time in which I couldn’t cook, and now I can (though not usually anything gourmet), but when did I learn? I can’t remember a learning period.
I don’t know when you emotionally become a mother; whether it’s when you start counting the late days of your cycle or when the test comes back with a plus instead of a minus. I don’t know if it’s when you can’t eat anything for two months, when the baby starts to take over your body and you feel like a stowaway in your own skin, or when the doctor lays that slimy, helpless little miracle on your belly and all you can think is how amazing it is.
No one teaches you to be a mother. Not really. The luckiest of us have great examples in our own mothers or the women around us but it doesn’t change the fact that we don’t get formal training for the job. They don’t offer a mothering degree at the university. There is no certificate or ceremony to validate you or mark your passing into this stage. Each skill just sort of morphs on its own and you just have to make your own way.
Today I found myself covered in finger-paint and glue, helping Elyssa make a homemade Christmas ornament. I’ve already finished most of my Christmas shopping. I know just which tooth Aidan is cutting and exactly how much pepper Brent likes on his food. I never get to eat my food while it’s still hot. I don’t take the risks that had at one time thrilled me because of the awareness that just one accident could leave my children motherless. I bump into former students who are now high school seniors. They use words and technology that I don’t understand and I have stretch marks. When did this happen? When did I stop being one of the young ones, the college kid, the newlywed? When did I learn how to budget every penny, clip coupons, know where every article of clothing in the house is and whether it is clean or dirty, folded or wadded in the clothes basket, and know nearly every silly toddler song by heart? When did I start caring about credit scores, mercury content in vaccinations and the bell curve of child growth charts? I wasn’t always like this, so how did I get here?
Sometimes, I look in the mirror and I’m a little unsure of who I am. I’m going to be 31 years old in a few days. That number sounds strange to me, mostly because of the distance that it puts between who I now am and the perception I have of myself. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was spontaneous, confident and idealistic? I prided myself on my intelligence, independence and sense of adventure. My thoughts were of changing the world and traveling to far away places. My body was young, strong and my own. My marriage was new and untested. My faith was part philosophy, part romanticism and a lot of activity. Now… now I’m something else all together.
I still think of traveling the world but home has a lot more value to me. I do want to change the world but for now the world is my husband, my children, my friends and family. My body? Let’s just say that while my body has never exactly been a fine china plate on display, until now, it’s never been the Wal-Mart sales purchase that gets dropped, nuked and thrown in the dishwasher at least once a day either. (Boy do I miss my abs!)
Then there is this matter of faith. If ever there were romantic thoughts about religion and spirituality and deity, they have been washed away in a sea of need. Jesus is my life line. My faith is the product of seeing my shortcomings everyday and finding God to be faithful to compensate for it.
How drastically did it all change! A flurry of years and suddenly I found myself here. Not that I’m even sure of who that “I” is or how long “I” will be “here”. It’s sinking in that both are in an ever evolving state. That life is a fluid evolution as opposed to a tidy little timeline. I don’t know. I have so very few concrete answers about here and I and relationships and parenting and all such matters of life. Truthfully, some days I don’t even know how much pepper my husband wants on his food. But whoever I am now and whenever I got here, one thing is true…
I know how to cook.
- Socrates has nothing on me
