Dinner with Kids

Chad's been working a lot lately. He's been out of the country and he's been working on a project that requires him to be at work late many days...and he is working this weekend and next (at least). So, as you can probably imagine, my life with my three little monkeys has been crazy as well. Sometimes people think that staying home with your kids means that every day is like the weekend.  Those people don't have kids.  It's possible those people have never even been around kids. If you are one of those people, don't say it to me because I will punch you in the face correct you.

Because it was a dreary day, and Chad had to work all day, I thought it would be nice to reward ourselves with a delicious dinner.  I haven't been cooking as much lately because I'd rather stick a pencil in my eye than go to the grocery store with all three kids. Thankfully, I did make a trip to Trader Joe's last week, so our refrigerator is finally well-stocked. I decided to make butternut squash ravioli with sage brown butter sauce, sourdough garlic bread, and caprese salad.  And wine.  Chad had to pick up the sage, basil, tomatoes, and fresh mozzarella on his way home from work. (Did I say our refrigerator was well-stocked? Well...maybe I forgot a few things.  And I bought thyme TWICE because my brain decided that s-a-g-e is actually spelled t-h-y-m-e.  I had three kids with me. We're lucky I didn't leave with a cart full of wine and chocolate.)

When we finally had the beautiful meal put together and plated, we sat down for a wonderful, peaceful dinner reminiscent of our time in Rome 5.5 years ago. Until Kian and Jonah began squealing and fighting from the other room because "Jonah won't let me put that toy away." (Really? Do we fight about who gets to put which toy away?) Chad calmed the situation and sat back down to eat. Immediately, more squealing and stomping from our 5-year-old. Chad got up and sent Kian, wailing and protesting, up the stairs to his room.  I poured some wine in my glass. Chad sat back down to enjoy his meal and we talked about how great everything tasted to the lilting soundtrack of Kian screaming and jumping up and down on the floor above the dining room. He finally calmed down, and I commented about the genius combination of garlic bread and caprese salad as a tiny fork sailed past my ear and landed on the edge of my plate.  Sometimes Eli likes to let us know he's done by hurling a utensil/food/cup at our heads.

It was finally time for Kian to apologize and join us at the table, and it seemed his attitude was much better.  He sat down and complained that his food was cold.  Then, when it was warmed, he promptly spit it out because it was "disgusting." Chad and I shared a look that said, "Let's go.  Let's just leave and go to a movie."  Actually, it wasn't a look.  We said it out loud and contemplated the consequences of walking out the door and coming back 2 hours later.

Our evening came to a close with far less dramatics, and I cuddled on the couch with my precocious five-year-old while ignoring the mess of dinner that was strewn about the kitchen and dining room. Chad fell asleep and Jonah and Eli played peacefully in the den.  And, when I say "peacefully", I mean something was probably getting destroyed and that was why they were being so quiet. It's ok. I can deal with it.  You can't hold on to "things" too tightly when you have kids. I love them. They're hilarious and smart and crazy and cool. And, holy crap, do they know how to ruin a dinner.

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

I've been working out a lot lately. I've been a runner for a while, but lately I've also been doing Insanity and Brazil Butt Lift (don't judge...those Brazilian butts are crazy). But this blog isn't about how much I've been working out. Running on the treadmill today, pouring sweat and listening to Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger", I started thinking about the past 6 years of my life and where I am today. Almost 6 years ago, I got pregnant with my first child. From then on, I went through a cycle of pregnant -> nursing -> pregnant -> nursing -> pregnant -> nursing. If you don't know me and/or you need help counting, I have 3 kids. I've been through hormonal ups and downs the likes of which only other crazy mothers could understand. I say "crazy", because, if you are one of those mothers who wakes up every morning refreshed and singing rainbows about the day to come, little squirrels and rabbits happily gathered around your Disney princess feet, then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about.

I've been hard on myself. I want perfection and I never get it. The thing is, though...a lot of the world kind of dismisses you when you have kids. Your kids need everything from you...and while they are really young you give them everything you have. My experience is that you are kind of empty for a while. You just pour it all out and then you take a look at what you're left with and you think, "Is this me? Is this who I am now?" People ask what you do and when you say, "I stay home with my kids" they get a glazed look in their eyes...a look that says, "Oh. So you have nothing interesting or intelligent to contribute to this conversation then. Dear God please don't let her start trying to show me pictures of her kids." Sometimes you get a head tilt and a patronizing, "Being a mom is the most important job in the world. *Dear God please don't let her start trying to show me pictures of her kids.*" Before you get all defensive...I know that not everyone who says that means it in a patronizing way. But, if you are a person who often says it...please think about how you say it. Do you mean it? Or are you just trying to say something to comfort me because you actually feel sorry for me? If it's the latter...just don't say it. Believe me, I can tell. Because, contrary to popular belief, having kids hasn't actually made me stupid.

Anyway- back to my original point. I've realized that, since having kids, I like a grueling workout. I used to HATE grueling workouts. But, pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood have taught me many valuable lessons...one of which is that, by the grace of God, what doesn't kill you does indeed make you stronger. Pregnancy and childbirth are HARD. Being a parent is HARD. Every pregnancy and childbirth has proven to me that my body is STRONG. Things I thought I couldn't do...I can do. But the crazy thing is that a lot of the world doesn't see it that way. These things that build incredible strength in you somehow diminish you in the eyes of people who don't understand. And sometimes we believe them. Sometimes we tell ourselves the same story...that we don't matter...that we don't still have incredible potential...that, instead of raising amazing and talented children while still following our own passions, our lives are reduced to making peanut butter and jelly and playing peekaboo. And those things are not the truth. Yes we make peanut butter and jelly. But we also teach our kids compassion, grace, mercy, and justice. We meet the condescension of many who tout "masculinity" as the definition of courage, strength, and perseverance with...courage, strength, and perseverance. As a side note, I am so thankful for my husband who exhibits all of those qualities...and also doesn't feel the need to reduce me to a shadow of them.

I went through a time of feeling defined by the world around me. I went through a time of feeling defined by a distorted view of myself. Thank you God that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'm not all the way there yet...but I'm still just at the starting line. And I follow a God who makes all things possible.