Mothers Always Eat Last

So, I read this article from Glamour magazine yesterday, and it resonated with me.  ...I'm never cooking for a man again... I believe it is the expectation that I, as a wife and mother (WOMAN), plan for and prepare the meals my family eats, even take out, really. Why does that responsibility fall to me? Even when I won't be home to cook dinner, I must either explain what is leftover in the fridge, which food is available in the cabinets and freezer, or say "Get take out." While I know I must seem like I'm whining, I'm not. I'm genuinely curious as to why this falls on me. I'm not a bad cook, and I might enjoy it if I had time and space to do so. My kitchen isn't small; I'm talking about the space that comes with not having to worry about other things going on in the house. I have 4 children so you can imagine there is something happening ALL. THE. TIME. If I could focus solely on cooking, I might enjoy it more, but for now, I HATE COOKING. ...

I made dinner last night (as usual, nothing new there), and it hit me that I am 1) the one who plans, prepares, and serves dinner and 2) the last one to eat. It made me reflect on motherhood (for about 30 seconds before a crisis needed resolving). Why are mothers the last to eat? We are traditionally (yeah yeah, no "but dads" here...) the ones who are responsible for feeding our families, so why are we not the first to enjoy the deliciousness that we prepared? Is it courtesy? Is it fear of being selfish? Is it simply that the children are hungry and are about to eat the table? Why do we serve ourselves last? In this blog, I really want to explore my experiences with motherhood. Love it or hate it, these are my thoughts and experiences. I think mothers are expected to "do it all," and we are collectively exhausted. I had an "interesting" experience over Thanksgiving this year that I will share in a different blog, but for now, I simply want to put my th...