Adjusting To My New Normal
I step back in sudden awareness as my mind alerts me to the heat spreading across my protruding belly. I’m still learning to adjust my posture while I cook for risk of melting my large pregnant waist.
Cooking has never been my forte, and now the added challenge of being in the last trimester of growing a child has blessed me with another set of things to spread my attention on. My husband has recently started a new job that has flung our family back into an old familiar pattern. I have once again become a stay-at-home-mother, this time of two young kids. I’m also pregnant, carrying a gift we had prayed for yet were still surprised when our hopes were answered.
Being a SAHM was never part of my life’s plan, nor is it an ambition of mine. I decided to leave the workforce over seven years ago when I became pregnant with my eldest child. Due to the necessity of giving birth, we felt that if we wanted to avoid daycare and pumping breastmilk on the go, then I would have to stay home. Biologically, there were many things my husband couldn’t do, such as grow a baby and nourish them with only his body.
My female form pushed my decision to stay home, but in truth I was happy to leave the working world behind. Back then, at twenty-two, I hadn’t yet found my calling. My job history consisted of working retail, selling everything from donuts to blunt wrappers to diamonds. While I excelled at the social aspect of being a salesperson, I found the daily toil of being a cog for consumerism draining.
I wanted more from my life, although I didn’t know what that would really mean for me. At the time, it just made sense for me to step out of the malls and stay at home to focus on our new family.
Time passed and my life gained momentum. We had a second baby, moved back to our home city, and dealt with severe illnesses that left our family struggling to maintain a sense of hope and prosperity.
Now I’m back in the kitchen, back to doing it all alone after having two years of having my partner by my side. While I’m so thankful that his health has improved to the point of him being able to hold down a job and support us financially, I would be remiss to deny that I enjoyed having him home full time.
He got well, thanks to modern medicine, and eventually found a job that he excels at. The only catch being that I was suddenly thrust back into the role of sole caregiver and homemaker while my partner was out earning that bread.
Like I said, I’ve never wanted to be a full-time wife and mother. I want so much more from my life, yet I can’t deny that my priorities have led me here.
We homeschool, something we decided on long before the first whispers of the pandemic arose. I’m thankful for the safety of keeping our children home, and in truth homeschooling has been more rewarding than I could have imagined. It’s a blessing to be there while my child discovers the world. I love witnessing her find answers for her questions, improve her skills, and learn about this complex world she’s a part of.
Yes, being able to stay home with my children is a treasured gift. Unfortunately, I hate cooking, which is an inescapable part of keeping a family alive.
When I cook for myself, I like to throw things together haphazardly, not measuring my spices as I go with the flow of my appetite. I mix up concoctions that I love and devour for a week, before my tastebuds turn and I no longer want that particular meal anymore. With a family, unfortunately, I need to cook with some sense of stability and mindfulness. Meals need to be planned, groceries need to be organized, and differences in palate and preferences need to be adhered to.
Worst of all, I need to cook on a schedule, because as any parent knows, feeding your children on time is a key part of meltdown-prevention.
My husband loves to cook, loves the satisfaction of putting a meal on the table for his family, and for many years that was his primary role in our division of homemaking. He planned, prepared, and executed most meals, while I was content to give up my food autonomy for the luxury of not having to deal with meal prep.
Unfortunately, his great new job means most days he’s no longer home early enough to cook dinner, leaving that task to me. Three times a day, plus snacks, I have to remember to feed myself and my children.
Dinner is the most challenging because it’s so close to the witching hour, the dreaded bedtime. Sometimes if I’ve managed to be proactive, the kids will get their allotted screen-time while I cook, keeping them occupied and freeing me up to enjoy a good true crime podcast or audiobook. However, on the days where the screens were turned on early, or turned off as a result of lost privileges, I’m left juggling my children and the stovetop.
More than once I’ve found myself having to pause my story to implement a timeout, while also trying not to burn whatever meal I’ve committed myself to making.
I’ve learned the hard way that meal-planning-Diane is often more ambitious than meal-cooking-Diane, and that my heart needs to be in the recipe in order for me to execute it successfully.
There have been many food victories, thankfully. Regaining my freedom to cook as I please, I’ve found I am capable of bringing a meal together without having to religiously follow a recipe. I’ve managed to supervise and discipline my children without letting the pot boil over, and I’ve even executed some incredible new meals that my family wouldn’t have otherwise tried.
My biggest victory is finding some joy and contentment in a space I used to avoid; I am no longer intimidated by the kitchen.
Every day my belly grows bigger, and my movements slow down. Sometimes I just don’t feel physically up for spending hours in the kitchen, yet the food must be prepared. Plates will be made dirty and floors must be swept. It isn’t my ideal life, but it’s the life I’ve made for myself.
I know, thankfully, that everything changes in time. My current struggle of cooking while being a pregnant mother of two will change. Soon I will have the baby on my back while I juggle my inquisitive older kids, and everything will shift again.
Eventually I will finish editing my first book, and write my second. Someday my husband will have a work schedule that brings a better balance to our lives. Time changes everything, and with it a new ebb and flow with be established.
Like the leftovers that are forgotten at the back of fridge, nothing lasts forever, but we can still enjoy it while it’s here, and I’m determined to enjoy this fleeting serving of my life.