Dinner

It occurred to me this evening while making dinner, I don't ever remember using my mom as a fire pole when she was stirring a pot. In fact, I'm nearly 99.9% certain, I used to sit at our counter quietly, polishing my halo as my mom peacefully cooked away in our tiny kitchen. She never looked out of breath or sweaty or stained. With the music of Arlo's new band...Pots, Pans and The Wooden Spoon playing their new single. And with the running commentary of Hugh's mind, dinner preparations involve me wandering around the kitchen trying to remember what is cooking on the cooker...trying to remember to close at least one cabinet door...trying to remember that I have 5 minutes to get everything on the table in order to avoid a low-blood-sugar-induced 3 year-old temper tantrum...it's all very, challenging...disorganized and dare I say, a little tense.But strangely...somehow...it all kind of comes together. Take this evening for instance, Hugh thoughtfully took care of our dinner drinks. He placed four glasses on the table and filled each one with: Brown Sugar, Water and Milk.
"I KNEW IT! The MILK makes it PERFECT!" declared Hugh.
Sitting around the table...eating and laughing while David and I pretend to drink Hugh's cloudy concoction...all of the chaotic preparations merely minutes before dissolved faster than brown sugar in watered-down milk. Ahh...dinner.xo