The evening news hums in the background as the baby cries and the 5-year-old asks for the 12th time since coming home from school when dinner will be ready.
“Soon.”, I say realizing I forgot to put the chicken nuggets in the oven. I put foil on a pan and pull a handful of frozen dinosaur shaped nuggets out of the fridge and pop them in the oven. It’s not my finest dinner moment but there are carrots . And these hours are rough . I’m stirring the risotto, I’m spooning puréed peas into the baby’s mouth and I’m trying not to step on the dog and the phone rings. My husband in his way home from work and I try not to make my voice short , try not to let the stress and exhaustion seep through but it does. Most days our moods intersect his happy optimism of being done work, with my exhaustion.
It’s hard to keep calm these days. It’s hard to carry on these days.
The baby screams, ready for bed but it’s just too early and I can’t abandon the kitchen now, too much needs to be done. Are you burning dinner mom? Is it ruined?
No, honey nothing is ruined it will all be fine it just takes time.
I add another cup of water and stir the risotto. One of the comfort food meals that seem to be all I can stomach lately. Pasta, carbs, wine. It seems to be a good diet.
The baby bangs her pudgy little hand on the high chair, demanding more food and I pull this mornings peaches out of the fridge. Funny how just last month she refused to eat solids and now this.
So much has changed so fast, I sensed it was coming but I still find myself shocked by it. All these little changes piling on top of each other.
Soon she will be crawling, then walking, then… she will be off to pre-school in 4 short years. The days are long but the years are short.
Then she’s crying again and the nuggets are done and… I remember something my mother said about the baby lullaby station on Pandora. So I turn off the news and turn on the lullaby station and I see her listening.
And it’s hard not to listen and I fall into a pattern. Stirring dinner, putting dishes away and scooping peaches into her small mouth. Everything shifts.
“Mommy, what’s this song?” Jackson says at the same time I was thinking it.
“Amazing Grace”
“You know mom…”
“Yeah I do”
My amazing Grace sitting in her high chair. My small little world of these kids in this kitchen. The chaos comes to a halt. A lullaby reminding me that I need to keep calm and carry on, there is work to be done.
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