There are (NOT EVEN KIDDING) about 18 pairs of shoes in the hallway. My kids are both home. And while I love that they are here, their shoes, not so much. I have raised shoe whores. They are the Imelda Marcos of young adults.
My son cooked last night after grocery shopping with me, and insisting on buying a cast iron pan. He has been extolling its virtues for days, not hearing me when I tell him that my parents only cooked with cast iron, multiple frying pans hanging on a large butcher’s meat hook next to the stove. He seemed to turn a deaf ear to my knowledge, wanting to teach me, and although I have not used one since I was in high school, the taste of the meat last night was the same as if I was sitting in my parent’s kitchen. I missed that deep, intense flavor those pans can bring. I had to give it to him.
My daughter got herself a job! She is working for a landscaper, and on Friday, she got a terrible stomachache and had to come home before she was done with her work. She has felt horribly guilty about not finishing the day off. That’s a good sign–that she wanted to finish her work. I hate that she was so sick and was in the bathroom half the night, but I like that she felt responsible to her job.
Cooking and working. There is some real progress happening with those people my husband and I made. They are undeniably becoming adults. They are even teaching me stuff now. My mom used to say, “If you live long enough, you see everything.” It’s funny how I could never have imagined when my kids were toddling around in diapers that one day they’d really be people walking around wth jobs and pan obsessions. But here we are. Grateful.