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So the Kids Can Use the Big Knives, and Other Reasons to Get a Divorce
I had to learn to say yes to chaos — and to myself.
Last night my kitchen got trashed. Completely obliterated. It smelled like a possum died in the oven and looked like he’d used every last pot, pan, dish and utensil to make his last meal.
Why? Because I said yes. Yes to my daughters and their friends making supper. Yes to using the oven and cutting food with the sharp knives. Yes to trying recipes from Grandma’s Betty Crocker cookbook. Yes to creating new recipes from their own brains and whatever they pilfered from the fridge.
Yes to me sitting back and letting it all happen.
It wasn’t that long ago that the mere thought of potential chaos made my stomach clench. I might have tolerated a few moments of raw creativity, but then I would jump in to help this or guide that. The end result would be me running the show. I would have kept things from getting out of control.
I feared things spinning out of control.
I had good reason to feel this way. My marriage made me feel like the floor was littered in broken eggshells. My job was to tiptoe carefully around them, a basket of laundry in one arm and a heavy, shifting tray of glassware balanced in the other. Voices must…
