One of my best friends from high school and his wife just had their first baby. A woman I volunteer with recently had her third baby. And a third woman I think is crazy and try to avoid at all costs also had a baby.
I told my husband I had to make three dinners for new moms this week. When I told him who the moms were, Mr. Hilarious said, "Okay, one of them I have never even heard of and the other you don't even like. Why would you cook for her?"
I cook for moms not because they are my friends. It's because having a baby and then staying home with them, whether it's for six weeks or 18 years, is hard. It's not like a really hard project at work where you celebrate with a fancy dinner or spot bonus. We moms don't get cateered in lunch or office Starbucks runs, raises, or office happy hour.
Someone is sucking on, pulling on you, calling for you, needing you almost every minute of the day and night. You can't even take your time in the bathroom.
I cook for them because they deserve it. We have to help each other out, because no one else will. It's my way of giving them a little bonus for a hard job well done.
Mr. Hilarious said, "Don't you think your bonus is when your kids smile at you?"
Really? REALLY? After a day of removing cottage cheese from the windows, rotten milk from the car seat, and jolly ranchers from my hair, I want my bonus in Starbucks!
I told my husband I had to make three dinners for new moms this week. When I told him who the moms were, Mr. Hilarious said, "Okay, one of them I have never even heard of and the other you don't even like. Why would you cook for her?"
I cook for moms not because they are my friends. It's because having a baby and then staying home with them, whether it's for six weeks or 18 years, is hard. It's not like a really hard project at work where you celebrate with a fancy dinner or spot bonus. We moms don't get cateered in lunch or office Starbucks runs, raises, or office happy hour.
Someone is sucking on, pulling on you, calling for you, needing you almost every minute of the day and night. You can't even take your time in the bathroom.
I cook for them because they deserve it. We have to help each other out, because no one else will. It's my way of giving them a little bonus for a hard job well done.
Mr. Hilarious said, "Don't you think your bonus is when your kids smile at you?"
Really? REALLY? After a day of removing cottage cheese from the windows, rotten milk from the car seat, and jolly ranchers from my hair, I want my bonus in Starbucks!
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