As a child, I adored playing “doctor.” I would don a white coat and carry around a toy stethoscope, pretending to care for my family and stuffed animals. There was something so fulfilling about tending to their “medical” needs, much like I now find joy in nurturing my own children. Fast forward a couple of decades, and I now realize that those childhood dreams have morphed into a full-time gig of endless caregiving – just in a different way.
It seems I’ve formed an indelible path in my kitchen floor that leads from the fridge to the pantry to the stove and back. The irony is thick; the very people I love to serve seem to have an insatiable appetite. Can’t a busy mom catch a breather? Seriously, didn’t we just eat five minutes ago?
If your home is anything like mine, the kitchen is never truly closed. It’s a continuous loop of meal prep, cooking, and cleaning, only to start the cycle anew. Growing up, I don’t remember having 24/7 access to snacks or a meticulously organized pantry. Meals were mostly limited to dinner, often involving a box labeled “Helper” that took mere minutes to prepare. We dined, and then we were off—no lingering in the kitchen.
Healthy snacks? Back then, that meant a box of raisins and a “be home when the streetlights come on” rule. We were outside playing, not loitering in the kitchen waiting to be served. Yet today’s kids seem to have a different approach. When they aren’t eating, they’re scavenging for something to munch on, whether it’s digging into unopened bags of chips, even when three others are already open. It’s confounding!
My children have outgrown the babyproofing stage and entered what I like to call the “raccoon stage.” I wake up to a kitchen that looks like a wild party happened overnight. These teenagers are in a constant state of hunger, akin to bears emerging from hibernation. I’ve resorted to hiding food just to keep it from disappearing—who knew I would ever have to do that? The same person who spent $800 at the grocery store and was told just days later, “Mom, there’s nothing to eat.”
Now, I have to ration snacks. Looking for chips? Sorry, they’re stashed away in my closet. Granola bars? They’re cleverly hidden in a box of tampons under the sink. As for fudge ice cream bars? Check the frozen vegetables.
Sometimes, when well-meaning people tell me I’ll miss these chaotic days, I can’t help but dream of a kitchen that remains clean and empty most of the time. I visualize a simple life with “sandwich nights” several times a week and blissful evenings without kids. Grocery bills that threaten to bankrupt us and my unintended roles as chef, waitress, and dishwasher? No thanks! Maybe I’ll convert the kitchen into a cozy home office once they all move out!
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In summary, parenting is a demanding yet rewarding journey filled with unexpected twists, like the unending cycle of kitchen chaos. While I may yearn for a quiet kitchen someday, for now, I navigate the delightful mess that comes with raising teenagers.