My kitchen is small – very small. It’s like a hallway with counter tops and cupboards along the sides. The counter space left from what the microwave, stand mixer and dish drainer occupy is just enough to roll out bread dough and set the rising bowl behind me.
If my husband comes in to talk to me while I’m cooking or cleaning in there he’s constantly in my way. The whole time we’re talking I’m pushing him to the side, moving him forward and we’re crashing into each other. When the kids are in the kitchen while I’m cooking I say they are “right under my feet” – and they are.
The springs in the dishwasher door are broken and I have to lock it to keep it closed. My oven is at least 20 years old and the clock and cook timers are broken.
Even though I may occasionally complain about those things, none of it really matters very much.
My kitchen is perfect.
I’ve done a lot of growing up in my kitchen. I remember reading the box carefully to see exactly how to make Hamburger Helper 7 years ago – afraid I’d screw it up. Now the thought of it makes me want to gag. I remember the first time I opened the box of brand new silverware – afraid to ding it up, never imagining we’d need more silverware than a service of 8. We have 12 now and I sometimes run out during the day.
These days, I scrub knee-high food smudges off the wall in the kitchen and find little plastic dinosaurs hiding in my casserole dishes – I’m in Heaven. I’ve spent hours talking to my husband in my kitchenand feel like I am learning to be a wife there. I’ve had some great parenting moments in the kitchen with my preschooler sitting on the counter and I hope to have more one day with my teenage daughter sitting there.
Some days, my legs ache from standing in my kitchen for so long. Sitting down for a moment, I realize how much of my day I spend there and I’m grateful. Growing in my kitchen has been the most wonderful thing. I’ve grown from a wife, a mom and a girl who knew almost nothing – into a person who knows a little more than I did then, is a little braver than I was then and loves even more than I did then. I feel like my kitchen is the heart of my home and I love the people I care for there.
My life is small and simple, like my kitchen. My family is close to me there. In my kitchen, I tie my apron and create things that make my husband remember why he loves me. Like my life, not everything in my kitchen works exactly like it’s supposed to, but it’s where I am and I love it.
Why I do what I do ~ The other day, my older niece had a particularly bad morning. She had been in a terrible mood. She’s 4-1/2. After her nap I asked her how she was feeling. She said, “Good. I don’t have a issue anymore.”
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{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
I love this post. It really isn’t the kitchen, but the growing that happens there.
Andrea´s last blog ..Make it, Wear it!
very inspiring – I love reading your posts.
You are doing a good thing – keep up the good work!
Beautiful!! Just like you, inside and out. You are so fortunate to have found a richness that goes so far beyond anything you could ever put a price on
Miss you!
love this!!
This is beautifully written. Thank you for the sentiment. I couldn’t agree more!
Tina´s last blog ..Favorite Things Friday- Jogging
Beautiful. I loved this, and the words were a true reminder that we all need from time to time.
Tia´s last blog ..Memory Monday
Great perspective. It’s important to reflect occasionally on how far we’ve come and what we’ve learned. (No more Hamburger Helper in this kitchen either, thank goodness!) I love the image of spending time with your teenager in the same kitchen!
Elisa | blissfulE´s last blog ..jam session