Where are the Spoons?! ~Small kitchen rant.

I love setting a table. There is something that I feel validates me as a woman in it. Sitting around a table with family eating from "real" dishes and using spoons, forks and knives. I'd gotten away from that practice and have recently been working on doing the things that make me happy.

I once had a service for 4 of dishes and a set of "silver" that matched to go along with it. We would set out the place mats, napkins, plates, put the food in the middle, sit in chairs and eat together with the television off. It was great!

Life has really been happening to me in the past 5 years and that practice fell by the way. In that time also, the Gremlins have discovered that my spoons are tasty. When my family started to grow, we invested in expanding the silver to a service for 20 or so. Now, when we wash all the dishes, utensils and the like, I can look in the drawer and see 4 spoons! What!? There are 20 forks, 25 butter knives and 4 spoons!

My mother, God bless her, gave us 8 spoons recently and now we are down to 8 spoons. *sigh* I counted.

I don't know what is happening to them. They are the most used utensil in the house, having 2 toddlers eating everything with a spoon. I really think that they are throwing them in the trash on their way to put their dishes in the sink. I'm not missing any dishes though.

Seven years ago, before moving closer to family, I used to clean the kitchen at night. I would tuck in my little girls and then tackle my kitchen. I remember it vividly, more so than any kitchen I've ever had. It was a cubbie hole. I would have to leave the kitchen if anyone, even one of my little girls, wanted something out of the kitchen. There was no counter space and I recall the dishwasher and oven couldn't be opened at the same time because they were very close together. Some nights I would talk on the phone to my mother who would complain about the noise I was making with the dishes. I would scrub the stove top and clean out under the eyes. I mopped and wiped down the cabinet doors. The kitchen was always a 10 minute job, but I would take about an hour. I made sure that everything was clean. I would take great satisfaction in looking into that little shoe box of a space and thinking, "All clean."

Now? I want to know where my spoons are! In the grand scheme of things, I can say that my worries are few. I still want to know where my spoons are. They didn't run away with the dishes. The dishes are still here. At least those that have not fallen victim to butter fingered adolescents and gravity. Maybe they ran away, distraught over the loss of the lovely dishes. Knowing that they will never be together again.

If you're ever out and happen to see the odd miscellaneous spoon. Tell it that it is missed. We have new dishes for it to meet.