Tonight I had one of those parenting survival moments. I'd been home from work for exactly one hour, and I found myself in front of the stove in my sweatpants, listening to Adele, surreptitiously stuffing a brownie in my face while browning a pound of hamburger with no idea what we were having for dinner. And the box of wine on my counter was so temptingly close.
It doesn't matter what circumstances brought me to that moment of emotional-eating and panic-cooking (seriously, it is a Monday), I was just keeping on in the best way I knew at the time. It took a moment, about three bites in brownie years, and the sound of my boys filtered in through the cotton of too many essays, too much puppy pee, and too many math problems. My guys were sitting behind me at the counter drawing funny faces, oohing and aahing over their brother's creations. And then I suddenly knew I would make tacos with my hamburger, one of their favorites and easy to serve with our never ending supply of bulk tortillas and shredded cheese from Costco. Kept on hand exactly for these occasions. Survival tacos.
From the little moments of exhaustion at the end of a busy day to those gut-wrenching moments of terror in the unknown, survival is about feeding your soul, sometimes via your face, with enough energy to carry you through until your breath takes hold and the darkness fades. So wear your sweatpants, eat the brownie, put the puppy in the kennel, turn the music up as loud as you want, whatever you need tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment