Mom Dinners Are the Fuel I Need Each Month
Our kids aren’t the only ones who need feeding. Mothers are hungry too — for peace, for venting, for sisterhood.
Most evenings, at 5 p.m., my daughters and I sit down to dinner at the kitchen table. These days, the sun is still high in the sky, and the light streams in through the tall kitchen windows. From afar, it looks like a picture-perfect family scene, with two cheerful girls chatting away with their doting mom.
Look a little closer and you’ll see that the two cheerful girls are so giddy because they have started a game of throwing meatballs to each other across the table. One sneakily whips a piece of carrot to her sister, who then smashes some broccoli into the grain of the table. One spills her milk and the other drops her fork onto the floor. Repeat.
I try hard to keep decorum, but they are two and four years old and are still learning table manners. We try to get through the dinner as best we can, with most of the food ending up in their bellies instead of on the floor. That’s a win in my books. My husband finishes up work just as we’re cleaning up, and I breathe a sigh of relief: I’m no longer outnumbered. Backup has arrived.
By the end of the day, like most mothers, I’m exhausted. I’ve worked, I’ve taken care of two energetic kids, I’ve cleaned, I’ve cooked. I’ve sent off emails to clients while playing dollhouse and vacuumed around little toy trains in the hallway. I’ve handed out what seems like hundreds of snacks while setting up next week’s playdates. I’ve made deadlines, I’ve kissed boo-boos, I’ve given countless hugs. I’ve wiped away tears — both theirs and my own. It’s been a long day.
It’s hard to keep pouring from an empty cup, which is why it’s so important to feed ourselves as mothers. We put in so much into raising our children that we often forget about ourselves.
But there’s one thing that always fills my cup.
My cup gets refilled whenever I have a “mom date.” I joined a local mommy group on Facebook after my second daughter was born. It was the middle of winter and I was feeling isolated. I thought this would be a good way to meet other moms on maternity leave so I would have some adults to talk to.
My mom friends gave me much more than I was looking for.
While that maternity leave is well in the past, we have formed friendships that continue to help us feel like ourselves again.
About once a month (or whenever we can manage it), we meet to fill up on conversation (and wine). Sometimes we go to new restaurants, sometimes we wear sweatpants and lounge in someone’s rec room. No matter where we are, there is always honest conversation (about our kids’ latest antics) and lots of laughter (about how funny it feels to wear a real bra). We let it all out — the good, the bad, the ugly.
With this group of mothers, there is no censorship because we’re on the same page.
We’re all contending with thrown meatballs and smashed broccoli.
We’re all telling our children to chew their food and to stop spitting out their milk like a fountain.
We’re all barely coming up for air by the end of the day.
We’re all in desperate need of a refill before our cups run completely dry.
And so, every few weeks, like clockwork, someone sends a message in our long-standing group chat about how we need to get together immediately. We set a date, we show up, and we revive ourselves.
Our kids aren’t the only ones who need feeding. We’re hungry, too — for peace, for laughter, and for someone who listens to us the first time. We’re hungry for conversation, for venting, for sisterhood.
We find it in each other. And then we go back to face the next day with a renewed sense of strength and resiliency. Our cups are full again, and we’ve got a lot to give.
