Only the beginning
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 thoughts somewhere.
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 thoughts somewhere.
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