I hear the garage door open, he is home. He is a few minutes late, but bless his
heart, he is home. He heads up the
stairs, and I literally give him a kiss and a high five. I tell him dinner is
in the fridge and our youngest has been a bit crabby and might need some extra
cuddles; I then triumphantly head down the stairs carrying my pan of Thai
salmon.
It is Cooking Club night.
Praise the Lord it is Cooking Club night.
The second Tuesday of the month is a night out with my mom
tribe. We all come together at one of
our homes dressed up or dressed down with something homemade or something
picked up and we share a meal together.
We are in our third year of Cooking Club. We all met in a small group at church. We were all married and a few of us had
littles. After a few years gathering as a
couples’ group, my good friend decided us girls needed some time to connect beyond
couples’ time. This is how our Cooking
Club was born. It was something we all
desperately wanted and needed. In our
three years together we have gone from three babies to twelve. Twelve, with at least one more on the way. One could say we are in the baby making
season of life. In this season, more
than ever before, we need each other and we need Cooking Club.
I drive over to my dear friend’s house, listening to a
podcast and feeling a bit of freedom and excitement for the night. I walk in and hear my girlfriends chatting
and chopping away in the kitchen. After
some catching up and throwing my salmon in the oven, I pull up a stool and take
it all in. The yummy smelling mushrooms
sautéing on the stovetop, my friend’s newborn baby asleep on her chest, the
chattering of these women I love; connecting and loving one another. Loving one another well.
At Cooking Club there are no expectations except to show up
when you can, and bring a dish to share.
No one expects Top Chef style cooking (although if you are on that
level, let me know and you can join us) or fancy table settings or the perfect ambience. Sometimes a dish turns out to be a Pinterest
fail, sometimes one of us gets an SOS text from dad to hurry home, sometimes
there is literally a crying baby in the bedroom next to the kitchen. Those interruptions are all a part of this
season and we all relate and none of it matters. We are there simply to be together…as women,
as moms.
The dishes are all smelling ready, so we put them on the long,
worn, wooden table along with our glasses and we each find a seat. This is a magical time. Sitting at the table with my people, my mom
tribe. We talk about one mom’s struggle
to get more than two hours of sleep at night and why we should or shouldn’t wax
and what in the world Kelly was thinking when Michael walked away. We talk about vacations and our kids and what
we are reading. We talk about how much
grace we receive every single day. We
are doing life together, at this table, at Cooking Club.
As we sit across the table, we know each other, we listen to
each other, we are heard and understood; we are real with one another. Sometimes as a mom, all I want is to be seen
and heard. At Cooking Club, I feel seen
and heard and known and don’t feel the need to hide anything. One night there may be a mom who is going
through troubles and needs to vent and to be heard and seen…it may be all we talk
about. On other nights we all are
sharing and listening as the conversation bounces around the table like a ping
pong ball. Each month is different and
unique as we are all going through our seasons of motherhood.
After our bellies hurt from all the food and laughs we had,
we clean up the kitchen, say our good-byes and head home. I journey home with a smile on my face and a full
heart; I find my journey home at least as triumphant as my first escape. I
might be a few minutes late, but I arrive home as a better me.
The funny thing about my tribe is that we are all doing this
mom thing differently. One mom is
staying home, loves Aldi’s and took her ten month old to London last year,
another mom is running a hair salon and is a hands-on mom, and yet another is managing a heart condition all while raising two incredible babies at home. We are all oh so different, but we have
something bigger in common than if we work or stay at home, if we eat organic
or processed mac and cheese…we are moms trying to love and raise our babies the best we
know how. And, lucky for me, I get to
raise my babies with these women, my tribe, side by side.