As part of a video recording, I was asked how I encouraged the boys (henceforth known as the little weasels) to come to the dinner table. Without missing a beat, the 10 year-old piped up that ‘Mommy just puts it on a plate and brings it down to us in front of the TV.” ^Mortified. But also… kind of true. We try to have at least three meals a week around the table but sometimes that path of least resistance reigns. Everyone always praises family dinners, but as I grew up an only child with parents who would quickly divorce, the ‘family dinner’ was often laboured, strained and uncomfortable. Maybe my childhood angst is now being brought to my own table.
Caring for a newborn takes gargantuan effort, patience and sheer physical strength. Before I had my daughter, I had no idea how much of myself I would have to give, and give, and give. There was no room left for anything, no me time, no us time, no time, period.