A post about the kitchen

Like most nights, I finally finish cleaning up the kitchen about this time at night, usually after putting the kids away.  Tonight, instead of putting on an audiobook, watching some tv, or solving nightmare issues with the three year old, I just left myself alone with my thoughts.  When I'm tired like today, I try to give myself a time limit goal to help speed things up, but after my time had come and gone, I was still working and thinking. 

I thought about the kicthen.  My kitchen, right now.  We had just had a party for mutual and one of the young women leaders had complimented the kitchen.  We have a pretty kitchen, it's true.  This led me to think about all the thoughts I've had about kitchens these past few weeks.  Today, Corban was playing with his play kitchen having a blast.  Is the kitchen just for women?  Labor day weekend I saw Julia Child's kitchen in a museum. It was very busy and crazy with everything held up on the way with magnents and a whole lot of copper pots. I've recently been looking at real estate websites as we might (or might not) be in the early stages of thinking about moving- and I've been looking for my dream kitchen.  Is it the most important part of the house? The most important room even?  (It would have to compete with the bathroom- right, because that place is also very important.  But bathrooms weren't even a part of the house until somewhat recently in world history!) 

For all my thoughts about the kitchen, all the time I spent behind the sink (for which I finally got a soft cushy kitchen mat for my achy feet), all the cooking, cleaning, and feeding I do, does the kitchen really even matter?  That's an odd question, because of course it matters.  I usually spend at least 2 hours in the kitchen a day, but many times more.  (our kitchen connects to a sort of great room so it's not too bad.)  I actually probably spend a majority of my awake at home time in the kitchen area.  But for all my time spent in the kitchen, what am I going to remember about it? 

I asked this because as we are starting to think about the next chapter in our lives, I begin to think about how this started and where we have come from.  I remember my last kitchen.  I remember that the granite countertops didn't show fingerprints like our black shiny countertops do now.  But I don't remember when I put the cans, or the tupperware, the cereal, and I'm even foggy about where I put the silverware.  Isn't that odd?  How much time did I spend in that place loading and unloading the dishwasher, pulling out cereal, and refilling the cupboard space.  Isn't it odd how I can't even remember those details? 

So now that I just cleaned up from a fun party, celebrating the new (and almost only) young woman in our ward, I think that I may just remember this party in another three years.  Especially since I baked the cake.  But in another three years I might not even remember where I stored my sugar.