There was a point in my life where motherhood was out of reach and where together with my husband we needed to re-imagine a life where parenthood was something our friends experienced while we played auntie and uncle. And then, like a lucky penny found on a crowded busy street, we saw the vibrancy of pink lines that made all of our dreams come true. First came darling Margeaux, our miracle, our joy, our lucky penny. Followed quickly by Sawyer, who came into this world like a hope whispered in secret that breaths life into wishes and makes them come true. And then like a bolt of lightning, little Xander arrived after 3 years wearing nothing but the grin of a Cheshire Cat. While they offered me the gift of motherhood and all the joys that come with it, they also gave me the gift of experiencing a kitchen centric life.
My relationship with my kitchen is wholly intertwined with motherhood. Like a bookmark in a fabulous novel, my children opened a new chapter in my life, where cook book pages turned along side the kitchen centric chapter that was unfolding before my eyes. My children gave me the gift of life in a way that I never imagined. They taught me to reflect on my own childhood memories, triggered emotions brought on by taste and smell, and created new ones with the echo of their laughter, tears and conversations that embed the fabric of each kitchen we’ve lived in.
Our first family kitchen was a tiny galley kitchen with butcher block counter tops that once sat pristine, and quickly became littered with marks from curious toddlers who could not resist watching their forks polka dot the landscape despite my less than convincing scoldings– my only regret is that I don’t have a photo of that countertop, but then the thought never crossed my mind. But when I close my eyes I can see the giggles, the concentration and the wonder at the impact those tiny forks had on that soft golden brown wood. I have memories as precious as this from each kitchen we’ve lived in, all seasoned with moments that were shadowed by bigger celebrations, and for all intents and purposes should have meant nothing, but on reflection mean everything.
On this Mother’s Day, like all those that have passed before it, I will be in my kitchen with my family. Feeding our hearts, our souls and giving new life to memories that make our kitchen the heart of our home. Wishing you and your family a splendid Mothering Sunday spent with the ones you love.