My first thought today in yoga happened when I went into my first forward bend and stared at my feet. I thought, your feet look like Mamaw Wines feet when she was 80. Please get a pedicure.
My second thought came when Ellen mentioned the word marinate. This time I actually went directly to food and I thought, you can’t cook; your children will starve.
Both of these things are true. I will get a pedicure tomorrow.
Unless a child can exist on vegetable soup, tacos/fajitas, banana pudding and biscuits — we are in very big trouble. I have friends on Facebook who make their own baby food. Are you serious? Make baby food?
Oh, and I can make spaghetti sauce and have recently added a fantastic broccolini pasta (gluten free!).
Will this recipe list feed an infant?
Yes, I am 43 years old and I have never had to cook. People have always cooked for me. Or they fed me vienna sausages and Mountain Dew, made macaroni and cheese out of the blue box or made bologna sandwiches on Wonder bread with Miracle Whip.
Memom even attempted to feed me Spam. Luckily, I did not understand it.
Mawmaw always said, How can you run a household without peanut butter? She had a point.
None of these things were fed to me by my mother; she’ll kill me if I do not clarify that. Except peanut butter.
Even now that I am married, my favorite restaurant is my in-laws. My husband loves to declare that I am, the WORST housewife ever. I really can’t argue with him. I never hid the fact that I barely passed Mrs. Swilley’s Home Economics class (I actually got an A, but I don’t remember anything). I prefer low expectations in this department. This way every time I cook it is an event.
When we don’t know what to do for dinner I always ask, Have you called your mother? I love to go to my in-laws for dinner.
As long as he still prefers his mother’s meatloaf over mine — we’re good. His aunt’s Savory Rice over mine — we’re good. The fact that we will be bringing my in-laws along if we move to Texas (WHEN we move to Texas) — brings me some peace of mind. I’m not sure we could eat if they weren’t nearby.
I can follow a recipe. When I started this blog I wrote about cooking here, and here, and here — and finally here. At the time, I was still optimistic about getting pregnant on my own — I was nesting on pure optimism. I thought, I should learn how to cook and maybe blog about it … we can see how that held my interest. All of these things I made were very good. I CAN follow a recipe, generally. Not always. Ask my Mom about the orzo pasta.
Note to self: Your mother-in-law should always make the orzo. Always.
There was a lot of balancing in class today. Work-Life-Balance popped into my head. What is that exactly? Do I have it? How do I apply for it? I work in my house, I live in my house — do I really need to cook in my house? What is wrong with a file of take-out menus?
I AM the worst housewife ever, but I do make my bed every single day. In fact, I literally cannot function if the bed is not made. The rest of Rome may be burning, but my pillows are fluffed.
I wish I could explain how much I opened across my chest today. I could feel it, like a flower blooming. It felt amazing. I’ve never felt that across my shoulders in quite this way. As a result, I was in an open and pretty playful mood. I didn’t take anything too seriously; my only thought was: open more. I did.
I also thought about dinner. What am I going to make for dinner? I knew that was going to be Jonathan’s first question when I called him. I would push to go out. He would resist. I would push to bring home take out. He would resist.
I was in shoulder stand and I started thinking about my favorite meals as a kid. Chicken n’ Dumplings. Spaghetti. Chicken Spaghetti. Chicken Fried Steak. Macaroni and Cheese. Cake Batter. Pie. Strawberry anything.
Surely I can figure out how to cook a list of things kids will eat. Since I’m not pregnant yet, I’ve got some time. Maybe we’ll even add a few vegetables. I liked mashed potatoes and peas. And squash. I still love squash.
In the meantime I had to figure out something to feed my big kid at home tonight.
It was broccolini pasta. He loved it. I CAN cook.
I am NOT putting baby food in ice cube trays. Or will I?
Never say never, I say.