The Chicken Soup Standard

For Tuesday, October 4, 2011

This afternoon when I arrived home from work I began to make a pot of homemade chicken soup. Boiling the roast chicken carcass from Sunday’s dinner, I chopped up onions, carrots, and celery, went scouring the fridge for the leftover spinach, and found some spaghetti. As I picked over the chicken I got to thinking of how often I had prepared this recipe over the years, usually with our family dog by my side hoping I’d drop a morsel or two.

My daughter sat at the dining room table doing some math homework. My son sauntered in, having been enticed by the broth’s aroma wafting upstairs and asked, “Are we having soup for supper? I love your soup!” All in all, it was an idyllic scene.

I well remember the days of arriving home from school and smelling my Mom’s cooking the moment I walked inside the house. My Mom was a stay-at-home mother; she did many volunteer activities--everything from tax preparation to the design of the annual church tea fundraiser---but she did not work at a paying job. I remember striving very hard in my early years as a working parent to make sure that my family came home to home baked meals and desserts. That was and is very important to me.

I am a working Mom but I have often said that although I am very passionate about my role as a teacher, I never lose sight of the fact that I am one teacher out of dozens that my students will have in their educational lives. However, I am the ONLY mother my three children will ever have. I keep my priorities straight. I would hate to fail as a teacher but if I did, I could get over that. I would never get over having failed as a mother.

Tonight as my family gobbled up the homemade chicken soup and the freshly baked biscuits which admittedly came “poppin’ fresh” out of a can, I felt like a superhero. Like my own mother, I am considered a good cook in my family. I have met one of my own personal standards for being my children’s only mother. All is right with the world.