Home from work. It’s just us two. And we retreat to the kitchen.
She stands on her step stool. I stand beside her. We wash and dry dishes from the day. We tidy up the kitchen. We chat about her day.
I make dinner. She makes ‘applesauce.’ She has one old spice jar full of water and another old spice jar with pinch of cumin. She pours and mixes. (It doesn’t matter what is in those spice jars. She’s always making ‘applesauce’.)
Along the way, we settle into the evening. I turn on our music. She sets the table. I light the candles that make our home feel cozy. She feeds the cats. Together, we make her lunch for the next day.
This is our evening routine.
A couple months ago, Meagan at The Happiest Mom wrote about her Kitchen Hour – an hour that she spends in or about her kitchen, being both productive and available to her family at the same time.
I loved the idea but figured it unreachable. Where do I find this extra hour in my day? It seemed elusive.
But somewhere in the last two months, somehow in all the craziness that is life, I found it.
I didn’t realize it until today. Our first day back in the swing after a week away, we naturally fell back into our routine. Our own kitchen hour. As Meagan promised, I felt both productive and connected.
And holy cow, did I miss it.
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