This week, my husband took over the meal planning.
We are loving it.
He arranges the menu and emails me the grocery list; I put the grocery list into Kroger’s Clicklist; he picks up the groceries on the way home from work. Sometimes, we cook together, but, often, I cook alone. My least favorite part of meal-prep has been taken off of my hands.
I love it so much, and it’s somewhat familiar. Since my dad worked from home and loves to cook, the meals were a 60/40 split in his favor. I know from experience that kitchen stuff is not just women’s work.
I also know that we tend to have a hard time not seeing home-work that way. “She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household and portions for her maidens,” right?
I write as the mother of three babies, two I of whom I will never get to hold. I write reaching my hands out to my sisters who have experienced a similar pain. You are not alone.
We know we are one in Christ. But the knowledge of those truths does not eradicate the hardship of living them out here on earth.
Is being a stay-at-home mom a luxury? Depends on who you ask.
I am burrowing further into the ease of refereeing lively ninth-grade conversations, and further away from the high-schoolish antics of the adults dialogue.
The other day, I turned over my expired Texas license and officially admitted to the DMV that I am a permanent resident of Mississippi. I’ve been thinking a lot about what that means. Whenever someone asks me what it’s like living in Mississippi, I always say, “The Help.” To clarify, Kathryn Stockett is a genius, […]
75% of the time, my husband is God’s answer to my prayers in ways that I never predicted, but 100% of the time, he is God’s sweetest earthly grace to me.