As a stay-at-home mom, I admittedly prioritize convenience and little to no mess above all else. After all, I don’t get to leave my home for 9 hours a day, leaving the mess behind to take care of later. It sits, reminding me of what I’ve done. Like a semi-ironic Pokémon tattoo that seemed like a brilliant masterpiece 6 beers in.
That was until recently when I made the decision to go keto (I won’t get preachy here – you do you). With that came a crap ton of meal planning, grocery shopping, prep, and worst of all – cleaning. Oh how I miss the days of throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and having the only aftermath be a baking sheet, a pizza cutter, and lowered self-esteem. You just don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.
And in this day in age of Instagram and Pinterest, you have this colossus staring down at you daily. The picture-perfect mother with her pantry the size of a small bedroom, a farmhouse sink the size of a bathtub, and spotless marble countertops with fresh cut flowers by the window. She makes her own organic, fair trade granola bars and baby food. She infuses her filtered water with lemon, cucumber, and mint. She has perpetual sunshine coming out of her perfectly toned butt.
How does she do it? I can only keep my toddler interested in my cooking for probably five minutes before he starts going for knives or dipping his finger in something containing raw egg. I can only get halfway through a sink-full of dishes before my baby is up from her twenty minute power nap. Forget what happened to Jimmy Hoffa. I want to know more about that mystery.
I am still trying to work out the kinks a month in- have a group of go-to recipes, become more efficient at prepping, and train my dog to load the dishwasher. I am so desperate to have time with my kids again because there are days where it feels like I have done nothing except prep, cook, clean, and find something on Netflix to keep my 2 year old from doing too much damage. I don’t think notices how much effort I put into what goes on his plate, but I’m sure he does notice I am spending much less time with him.
If you are one of those mothers that can do it all, I envy you. And if you are one of those mothers whose dinner was their kid’s leftover spaghetti-o’s, I understand you. I think it’s safe to say we are all just doing our damn best. In the meantime, I have dishes to wash from my last cooking venture which I wouldn’t even feed to my dog.