It often seems like parenting is more of a learning and growing process for the parents than it is for the kids. One of many lessons I have learned as a mom is that as much as I want to be everything to all of my children, it’s just not possible.
I have three children who all require different things at different times. They are unique and each expresses and feels love differently. My oldest is a quiet introvert who requires a safe and welcoming environment in order for him to open up. My middle son is incredibly loving and continuously asks for “snuggles” throughout the day. And my little girl wants to do whatever I am doing and be wherever I am, and not just in my presence but in my arms with all four little limbs wrapped around me. I love it and wish that my "to do" list accommodated these snuggles and special times with my children all day. But at some point they also get hungry and want some clean clothes to wear.
Somewhere in the continual learning process of parenting I stopped focusing on what I am not for them and realized that I am the mother to these particular littles, and with what I do have to offer (and an abundant amount of grace) I am capable of mothering them and loving them.
I stopped feeling guilty for how much time I spent in the kitchen over the stove and started to pull them into my passion for food and cooking. Many times they are thrilled to join me. They love dumping, stirring, and watching the oven turn a gooey batter into a luscious cake. I try my best to ignore the mess and compensate the recipe for the piles of flour that don’t end up in the bowl. It’s time spent together, and it is something that I can happily do for and with them. I was created with this passion for a purpose and consider it a joy to share it with them.
Being a mom I am continually stretched to grow in the areas that need growth, but if you listen closely you start to see the passions and gifts you already possess as wonderful tools to help shape these little people.
This recipe for Hot Fudge Pudding Cake comes from my grandma’s archives. I love passing along recipes from her to my own family. With each dump of an ingredient and stir of the batter, I’m reminded that grandma raised six wonderful children and lived to tell about it, so surely I’ll survive raising three.