Arriving home from work in the evenings is always an adventure. I work every other day, so the routine is predictable. Though, of course, with most things in life, there is also constant change. I want to relax, have a seat on the couch and enjoy a hot cup of tea. The kids welcome me home in their own loving ways: our daughter peers out from behind her book, our second child breaks his focus from the piano long enough to ask what I brought him, as our youngest happily announces that he wants to nurse, "Now, Mom, now!".

I aim to ignore the aspects of family life which are not as conducive to relaxation: dishes, small piles of paperwork, crackers on the carpet. Sometimes I forget that people without children still have to wash dishes, clean their homes and do the laundry.

The other evening I received a most welcome surprise. As usual, I was home at dinnertime and I wanted to be fed. If I don't prep something ahead of time or get creative with the slow cooker, my work is cut out for me in the kitchen. My husband was setting bowls out onto the table, and soon thereafter came the soup spoons on top of cloth napkins.

"I made some lentils."
"Oh, thank you so much."

It was that easy. I didn't even have to ask. The salt, the pepper, the olive oil and glass of water were all there waiting for me. I sat down in my usual seat, and I didn't get up until I was done.