I respectfully disagree

Dear Commercial Lady Who Says "It's time to get real about what happens in the bathroom,"

No, it's not.

What's with this new rash of commercials about toilet paper being left behind? I don't care if you cute it up with bears. No one needs to talk about that.

Sincerely,

Watches Too Much TV

PS I'm not even going to touch the Hail to the V commercials because WRONG, WRONG, WRONG.

You can do it!

A phenomenon I've come to watch with some interest, and - because I will probably never have to do it - a teeny amount of amusement: the training of the mail truck drivers. They come and use our hill once a week or so, presumably because it is so steep. Driving a mail truck must not be easy, because they often drive right up over the curb.

The funniest part is that Reid, Jesse, and Caffrey all run to the front door to watch also. Again, I can laugh because I don't have to do it: imagine you are training to drive a mail truck on a really super steep hill, you keep driving over the curb because the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the dang truck, and then you look over and 2 dogs and a toddler are watching you intently. See? It's funny. If you never have to do it.

That Damn Donna Reed

I would very much like to go back to a 50s and 60s way of living. I love staying home with Reid. I love cleaning my house. I love the feeling of sitting down after a long day of cleaning my house and smelling Lysol. I like to cook. I want to wear aprons while I do so. I want a sewing machine so I can make aprons. I want to sew curtains and pillows and skirts.

I want to finish the sweater I started knitting back in April.

I want to make thoughtful handmade gifts that look pretty and are useful.

I want to bake cookies or casseroles or cakes for friends who are having a baby or a birthday or a rough day or because it's Tuesday and who wouldn't like a casserole or a cake?

I want to make pot roast.

I don't actually know what pot roast is. But it's good to have goals.

(if anyone can tell me the origin of the title of this post, you win the satisfaction of knowing the origin of the title of this post)

the sleep issue

It's been about 3 weeks now, so I figure this is the way it's going to be for a while and I can talk about it and not jinx it: Reid's been sleeping through the night. From around 8 until 5:30, at which time I nurse him and he usually sleeps for a little while longer.

How did we do it, you are wondering? Or you're not wondering, but you're still reading so you are either idly curious or you are bored. So I'll tell you: we didn't do a thing. He just did it. So for all those people who insisted that babies will not sleep through the night on their own, and that sleep training is needed: HA! Hahahahahahaha. HA.

Unpopular Opinion

Boys' clothes are cuter than girls' clothes.

There. I said it.

Oh my narsty.

Narsty is a word I made up* that means super, super nasty.

*of course I didn't make it up, you can urban dictionary even a bunch of random letters and find that it exists as a word (and, for those who are more sensitive, said word usually means something narsty so consider yourself warned).**

**Yes, I know I'm supposed to follow up with the asterisks at the end of the post, but I always forget.

Anyway. I saw a recipe for pasta salad the other day, and I wanted to make it. A note about food: this is so bizarre to me, but it really has become about fuel. I don't feel like making elaborate meals anymore, I just feel like getting the hunger to go away. This is SO not me, but I guess it is a side effect of hanging out with a very active little guy who also happens to cry if I disappear into the kitchen for more than 2 seconds. (I think this has also contributed to the couple of pounds I've recently put on - 2 frozen pizzas and 2 dinners of Kraft mac n cheese in one week...sigh. In keeping with my general philosophy of balance, I have added spinach to the mac n cheese and served both dishes with a giant helping of veggies, but...sigh) (actually, speaking of balance, I have also quit the 2-a-day workouts and instead opted to relax and knit and enjoy some me-time a little more. If a couple of pounds came back as a result of that, I'm okay with it).

So this pasta salad...I could have written down the ingredients and gone to the store, but a combination of laziness and disinterest prevented that. So at the store, I found boxed pasta salad on sale - 3 for $3.19. OK! I got three different kinds and was happy about it. Something quick and easy to put with the barbecue chicken sandwiches on the menu, as well as a nice side for future grilling.

OMG. People. Gagworthy. Narsty. The moral of this story is that shortcuts are bad and fresh, healthy ingredients are good. Lesson re-learned. It's back to the kitchen (and the produce section) I go. But I really don't know what to do about the other two boxes of that stuff. I guess I can donate it to a food bank, but that seems a little "this tastes awful, here, you try!" to me.

Does anyone want them? I'll give you a good price.

In case anyone out there needs to hear this...

The best reminder that you should always do what is right for you and your family is to do something that is NOT right for you and your family.

Sleep eludes us again. Last night and today - for reasons I will not go into because I'm tired and I've been self-flagellating even though I really did think it was best at the time - I decided to let Reid cry a little. And by a little, I mean 5 minutes here and there. Not hours.

It's not right for us. It is JUST NOT right for us. Reid is over it, but I've been a wreck all day.

So rather than dwell on it (more than I have, that is) I am going to be thankful for the reminder and move on.

And eat my feelings a little. Because chocolate, it is nice.

Hear Me Out

I have said twice this past weekend, to two separate audiences, that I want to work on a craft of some sort because I feel like I have nothing to show for myself. Both audiences looked at me and then pointedly at our thriving little boy.

OK, yes. I do have a thriving little boy. Whom I personally believe is a genius (crawling after the cat and whispering "tat! tat!" = genius. No doubt). And I keep a clean house and I cook meals while only rarely burning the bottoms of the pans to a black, tarry mess.

But I don't really feel like I do much for ME. I look at friends' arts and crafts on facebook, and occasionally go to www.etsy.com and think "I could do something like that," but I never really do.

Today that changes. I decided to start from scratch with my knitting. I learned a few years ago and picked it up fairly quickly, then got ahead of myself a little bit with projects that were beyond my expertise....which led to frustration, and later, several half-finished products all about the place. So I picked an "easy" tank to start on, as well as a crocheted handbag. And I hope to pick up a cross-stitch for Reid's room, too.

Reid's naptime is usually spent doing yoga or pilates or cleaning. When I get time to myself, I watch mind-numbing television and before bed, I read (I make it a couple pages before falling asleep). All of this is fine, but it's not really stimulating. I love, love, love being a mom and I love, love, loooooove staying home with my guy. But I feel like I need to create something that's for me. As much as I don't mind cooking or cleaning, to me, these are chores. Crafting will be my hobby.

Hopefully I will have some progress for you to check back on here.

Guilty Pleasures

1. Ice cream, lots of ice cream. If you are a facebook friend, you know this already. Look. I am running between 15-20 miles a week, I am doing yoga during naptime, I am keeping the house clean, I have a happy and well-fed (if perhaps not always sparkling clean) child. I am too tired to drink wine. So I have my big bowl every night after Reid goes to bed and watch....

2. Pregnant in Heels on Bravo. Good grief. This show, and the women on it, are hilarious. And Rosie Pope is a maternity concierge. If you can believe it, things worked out just great without the expertise of an incredibly high-priced maternity concierge. Rosie Pope is pretty funny though. And she's British and I'm an anglophile.

3. 90210. Did you know that the Walshes lived on Hillcrest Drive? Did you ever notice that Kelly's birthday is at the end of the school year during their senior year of high school, but later, in their junior year of college, it's at the beginning of the year? David had a crystal meth problem, Dylan was an alcoholic and a heroin addict, Kelly did coke, Brandon was a compulsive gambler, and Donna was addicted to painkillers. Yet they all drink. Cross-addiction, anyone? No? OK. These girls wore an awful lot of business suits in college. Thank you SoapNet for allowing me to ponder these issues.

4. Teen Mom. Well, it's over now, but...ohhhh Teen Mom. What a train wreck of a show. It's the anti-Pregnant in Heels. These girls make phenomenally bad choices on a weekly basis. I don't know why it entertains me so.

5. Friends. There is always room for a good Friends episode. And then, once my TV of choice is over for the evening, I go to

6. Bed at 9pm. "To read." I don't read. I go to sleep. And it is glorious.

It's 9:10 now, and that book's not going to read itself.

Thankful

This weekend, I had the worst toothache I have ever had. At first it was like a migraine in my mouth, and it progressed to the point where I felt like my tooth was in labor. It hurt so bad. On Monday, I called the dentist on his cell phone, having finally deemed it a "dental emergency." Long story short, by 4pm I was leaving the endodontist's office after a root canal.

I'm thankful that my dentist gives out his cell phone, I'm thankful that the doctor could perform the root canal so quickly, and I'm thankful that even though I'm sore, the pain is not nearly as bad as it was.

Last night, we had to take Reid to urgent care because he was coughing and breathing really heavy. He has a respiratory virus, which should clear up on its own in a couple of days. He got a dose of prednisone to help him breathe in the meantime. I'm thankful for the quick turnaround time at urgent care, and thankful that it's only a virus and isn't going to require hospitalization or breathing treatments. And above all, I'm thankful that the little guy is still smiling for the most part through all of this.

And then I woke up last night with a really sore wrist. I remembered that I tried to adjust Reid in the stroller one-handed yesterday. And that when my wrist cracked and popped, I thought, "well that's going to be uncomfortable." And you know what? I'm not thankful. Nope, I've been patient and calm with everything else that's gone on this week, and I choose to not be thankful or to see a silver lining on this one at all. Stupid stupid ouchy stupid wrist. Stupid. Ouch. Wah.

9 months

In the time it takes to gestate a human being, my little one has morphed from a tiny baby into a pre-toddler. He is crawling everywhere, pulling up on everything (including the wall, which to me indicates that his balance is good enough that he doesn't need furniture), and has developed this toddler-like giggle that might as well be a fluorescent light over his head that says "I'M DOING SOMETHING NAUGHTY!!!!"

He eats whatever is put in front of him, including beans, excepting grapes, and he eats a lot of it. I was reading another blog recently wherein a mother posted a photo of her toddler's dinner, and Reid has easily twice that.

Sleep could be better but could be worse. The thing that bothers me the most about sleeping is that people always ask about it. "Oh! A baby! How does he sleep?" I don't know. How do YOU sleep?

He's got two teeth and may be getting another one. I thought I saw a flash of white in there the other day. It's like Jaws lurking below the surface. Although not quite as scary. But a little scary.

He's starting to show a fun personality and a strong will. He seems to enjoy making us laugh. He does not enjoy having toys (or remotes, or cell phones, or the cat's ears, or my wallet) taken away from him, or sitting still when he could be on the move. This includes activities such as diaper changes and car rides.

He is busy, busy, busy, but even when he's playing independently, he looks at me frequently to make sure I'm still here. Sometimes he crawls up on my lap, puts his thumb in his mouth, and puts his head on my shoulder. How I manage to function after such an event is beyond me, what with being a giant pile of goo and all.

Happy 9 month birthday to my little boy...now if you'll excuse me, I need to go refill his high chair tray...again.

There's no accounting for taste

Beans make this child cry. Unless they are hidden in a quesadilla with cheddar and mashed avocado, he wants no part of them. Beans! These are fairly innocuous, no? Beans are generally a vehicle for their accompaniments: cheese. Sour cream. Cheese. Avocado. Cheese. Therefore the taste of beans is neither offensive nor delicious. In my opinion, anyway. This opinion is not shared by my offspring.

My offspring who, by the way, is currently going to town on oatmeal mixed with prunes and plain yogurt.

???

Okay.

Ode to Sarah

Sitting in a little corner of a little office, on the phone.
Full of compassion and knowledge.
Understanding and reassurance.
Her voice is like music to my ears.
She has yet to call CPS on me.

"Nurse triage line, please? Hi Sarah. It's me again. So..."

• ...he ate some drywall.
• ...I accidentally fed him honey.
• ...the diaper rash is bleeding.
• ...he fell off the bed.

Dear, sweet Nurse Sarah. Never leave me.

Quotes from Scrubs

You may remember from my stream of consciousness a few weeks (months?) back in which I discussed relationship anthology. In that same vein, Joel and I can have an entire conversation using quotes from Scrubs, I think. We call poops "trouts" because Dr. Cox tells his son that he's enjoyed waking up every morning to a fresh brown trout in his Huggies. We read the Eric Carle Alphabet Book and when we get to E for Eagle, we both say "Eeeeeeeaaaaaagle!"

Surely there are more (because that would be a short and rather nonsensical conversation) but the one that has stuck with me this week - as Reid has been crawling everywhere and pulling up on everything and grabbing electrical cords, remotes, and cell phones galore, so that I finally had to strategically place baby containment devices throughout the house - is this:

"No, Mom. Playpen/Baby Cage is not like potato/potahto."

in a week

1st cold
2nd tooth
3 hours of sleep a night for Mama
4th round-trip flight

Crawling. Actual forward movement.

Pulling up. On furniture, on the crib, on me.

That's about all. That's enough, though, don't you think?

I need a nap.

NO! Not the fresh air!

Cabin fever's got me. Got me bad. Lately I've been thinking maybe I was too cautious this winter by not taking Reid out more. He's a Wisconsin kid...he should get used to the cold, right? So today, with highs in the upper 30s, I put him in his snowsuit and his shades and off we went. First of all, people need to shovel their flingin' flangin' sidewalks. Assuming the residents are not elderly or infirm, I hope they were all feeling horribly guilty sitting in their houses watching me try to maneuver the stroller through their half-melted, slushy junk.

Second of all...worst.idea.ever.

About 5 blocks from home, Reid started to cry. About 4 blocks from home, he started to scream. And he did not stop until we got inside and I nursed him. He's been asleep for about half an hour...I think that was the first time in a LONG time he's really cried himself to sleep (side-note: if that is what CIO [cry-it-out] requires, I am very glad we've stood firm in our decision not to participate).

I guess I will try this outing again in about 20 or 30 degrees. Oops.

It's He-eeeeeere

It's little. It's white. It's painful.

It's.... a tooth.

Run for your liiiiiiiiives!

I will not be running for my life. I will not be going anywhere. Because I'm not sure if it's the teething or just the nature of a 7-month-old but the little guy cries like I'm going to war if I so much as get up to get a glass of water.

Luckily there is no place I'd rather be.

If Motherhood is like High School....

....then the internet is like the mean girls' clique.

But instead of making you feel stupid for wearing last year's jeans, it makes you feel stupid for feeding your child solids at 5 months instead of waiting until 6.

Instead of making you feel inadequate because you drive a practical (read: uncool) car, it makes you feel inadequate for using disposable diapers.

Instead of making you feel like an oversensitive wimp for reacting to cruel taunts and teases, it makes you feel like an oversensitive wimp for reacting to your child's cries instead of letting him or her "cry it out."

I have realized since high school that if I just done my own thing with more confidence, I would have been much cooler, not to mention happier. So I am going to put that theory into practice now and shun the Internet and all its bullying. And I just have to say: my former homeboy, Dr. Sears, is the worst internet bully of all. He was so nice to my face, but it turns out that he thinks that as mothers go, I am a demon. Of course he would never say so to me directly, but everyone knows.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go clean up after Reid's lunch while he chills in his exersaucer (gasp!) and change his disposable diaper (gasp!) then maybe put him down for a nap in his crib instead of in bed with me (gasp!). Because it's what REID'S MOM thinks is best. And I bet he'll even be happier for it. If that is possible. Despite having a mom who, according to the internet, does everything wrong, I have a pretty jolly little dude. Ta!

Patience: you're doing it wrong

Well, this here is an interesting phase and one that I hope I will learn from, because I know that it's just the beginning of the war of the wills between parent and child.

Reid is strong, and he is smart. He knows what he wants. He just doesn't have all the tools to get it yet. This frustrates him, which often results in the dreaded whining. I. Do not. Like. Whining. Does anyone else feel like their parents' pet peeves were hereditary? Because, thanks for this one, Dad (by the way, CHEW WITH YOUR MOUTHS CLOSED, PEOPLE!!!).

Ahem. Back to the issue at hand: Reid gets frustrated and he whines, and I sit with my teeth on edge wondering when I should intervene. So he wants a toy that's just out of his reach. Do I give it to him or do I let him work on it himself? In my opinion, he needs to build his strength and he needs to get used to the idea that Mama is not going to help him out every time he so much as frowns. So he's in his high chair and has finished dinner, but Mama and Daddy haven't. I don't want to pacify him with more food; I want him to learn that mealtime is family time and we will stay at the table until we're all finished. So he is on his tummy but wants to be on his back. I know he can roll over but for some reason just won't. I don't think I should flip him when he is perfectly capable of doing so himself.

But that means I am graced with a veritable symphony of pitiful whines. I sing. I dance. I make his toys talk in funny voices. I dance more. I sing. I redirect to the point where I'm not sure where we were headed in the first place.

And then we start over again.

Now if you'll excuse me, the whines have taken on a rather more urgent tone and I need to get that baby to bed.

I forgot the eggs

Reid and I took a trip to Trader Joe's this morning in the hopes of finding cheap nuts for to produce ho-made nut butter. I had a short list, and while I was reaching over to get some Brussels sprouts and broccoli, Reid grabbed it out of my hands. I walked over to the banana pile and retrieved half the list from Reid. Half? Yes, half. I looked down at my innocent cherub. His cheeks were rather more puffy than usual. OK. So he ate paper. Eventually all kids are going to eat paper, right? No big deal. Don't panic. But there was a lot missing. That was kind of a lot of paper. So I dug around in there for a few seconds and pulled out the sopping remains.

I thought I was pretty on my toes, anticipating anything that he could get into or that could cause trouble (yes, the ceiling fan in our bedroom TOTALLY could have fallen on his bassinet which consequently DID need to be moved three times at 2am on his first night home, thankyouverymuch) but I clearly underestimated the speed with which he could make a grocery list disappear. Now I know. And now I'm hungry because I forgot the eggs.

So if you'll excuse me, I am going to go make some peanut and almond butter because yes! They were cheap at Trader Joe's!

I didn't do pilates.

and it's gonna be okay.

Instead of weekly pilates, I've decided not to drink for the remainder of January. I might extend it to no drinking until the half-marathon (or after the half-marathon, that is). Yeah, it's cheating because I barely drink these days anyway (I had wine over the holidays, as one should) but hey. Nobody ever said these challenges of mine had to be challenging.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go finish making my mallard chicken enchiladas.

Procrastinating

I went to the grocery store yesterday and spent $48 for a week of groceries. I know!! $48. I forgot the apples and the pepperoni though. I bought store-brand as much as possible. I bought a huge can of authentic enchilada sauce that inexplicably has a mallard on the front of it. Actually, since all the writing is in Spanish, I don't know - it could very well be explicable. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. If one of you two readers (the one who knows Spanish) could tell me why there is a mallard on the can, I'd appreciate it.

So you see things are going well with my January challenges so far. Except I'm sitting here writing about mallards and enchilada sauce when I should be doing Pilates.

I had a chili dog for lunch. And fries. And yet I'm feeling really snacky today but we don't have any snack food in the house. I'm thinking about throwing a can of black beans, a garlic clove, and lime juice into the food processor to make a black bean spread/dip type thing. But we don't have any chips. I don't think we've ever not had chips. I suppose I could cut up some tortillas and bake them.We have corn tortillas for this week's chicken enchiladas. I only need 6 or so, and they come in a package of 30. Why? Who eats an entire 30-pack of corn tortillas at one time? It's kind of like boxes of spaghetti. Half a box is too little, but the entire box is too much. And how do you measure spaghetti? But back to the corn tortillas. I know there are people who do eat 30 at one time (again, I shouldn't jump to conclusions) but we are not those people. You know what would be a really good way to use up those 24 corn tortillas? To bake them and cut them into wedges and serve them with ho-made black bean dip. Hmm.

I'm still not doing Pilates, by the way.

You see up there that I said "ho-made" instead of "homemade." That's because this one time? Joel and I were driving to Door County and we passed a restaurant that offered Four Ho-Made Soups. We thought, well that's just great for them, but I don't think they should call their chef such names. Do you ever stop and think about all the inside jokes that you have with your partner and where they came from? Sometimes I do. Joel and I call carrots "care-OTTS" because of the Friends episode where Ross is trying to get his new couch into his apartment and he keeps yelling "piv-OTT! Piv-OTT!" That's pretty obscure. And that's one in a gajillion inside jokes we have. You could give yourself a ho-made headache trying to trace back your relationship anthology.

Reid is really good at Pilates. He can lie on his back and hold his legs parallel to the ground for minutes on end. You know who can't do that? Me. You know why? Because I don't do Pilates like I said I was going to.

OK. If either of you is still reading at this point...please excuse me. I have to go do Pilates. I think. I'll try. Probably. We'll see. I'll let you know.

New Month Resolutions

I'm not big on New Year's Resolutions. Which is kind of weird, because I don't like to start something new in the beginning of the month or week. For example, I've often said "diet starts Sunday!" or "I'll put money into savings on the first of next month." Who am I kidding...I've never put money into savings.

Anyway, you'd think with that attitude, I'd love New Year's Resolutions. January 1st is the ultimate Fresh Start. But they've always been the same thing for me: lose weight. Work out more. Boring. Boring. Boring.

So this year I am trying something new. To keep things interesting, I am coming up with a couple of challenges every month with the hopes of bettering myself and our household. Here are January's:

1. buy store-brand whenever possible. I've always avoided store brand items because I've been a snob.

2. keep the weekly grocery bill under $100. Bonus: Joel says that if I do this, I can keep the difference. Last week I spent $90. That's $10 in my pocket - yay! There are a couple of sub-challenges to this one:

• buy "whole" food. I admit to also being a processed-food snob in recent years. Processed food is bad for you, your body needs whole foods, blah blah blah. I don't really subscribe to that idea anymore, but here's why I personally will avoid processed food: take cereal for example. I can't stop at one bowl. And it's expensive. I can go through a $4 box of cereal in 2 days, or I could get a canister of oats for $3 and eat that for a month. A box of cereal is one flavor; with a canister of oats, I can make a bunch of different combinations and rarely get tired of it. And there is less waste.
• embrace leftovers. I hate leftovers. They bore me. This is purely mental - obviously if I liked it on Monday, I should like it on Wednesday, right? So next week's menu (already planned, thank you!) includes 3 meals and 3 nights of leftovers. Again, less waste and less money. You can't really argue with that.
• move away from organic food. Yet again, I've been a snob. And kind of a doofy one: I have fallen prey to the marketing geniuses who know that slapping an "organic" label on a box of crackers will get more people like me to buy it. And to pay more for it, even. Yes, there are times when organic is the way to go, but I admit that I am not an informed consumer in that regard. I've assumed that organic always means healthier, and that is not necessarily the case. I will not skimp on meats or dairy, though. Since I have a little one to feed, I think it's important that he gets antibiotic- and hormone-free milk, eggs, and meats.

3. Do pilates once a week. Nothing bad can come from a strong core, particularly when one is running a lot and hauling a 20-lb moppet around.

So there you have it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some non-organic oats to cook. Perhaps I'll mix them with last night's leftovers.

Because sometimes I'm more than just Reid's Mom

Every day with Reid is fun and usually brings something new, but not everything is all that exciting to write about. For example, all I can think of to say lately is that solid-food poops are super narsty. And I am already sort of in danger of this becoming a Poo Blog. And let's face it. That would just be a wasted effort. HA HA HA HA HA. Get it? WASTEd effort?! Oh, sigh. OK. Moving on.

There are two other things that I do habitually that I've decided to write about. The first is eat. I do this like, at least three times a day. Usually more. I know! It's crazy. No, I'm not going to write about everything I eat, because that would be more boring than poop. But when I do something kind of fun in the kitchen, like I did today, I figure I should share with the masses in case there are masses out there who also forget half the chili ingredients and have to make the choice between going back to the store after swimming at the gym (with frozen hair and in the snow) or flying by the seat of his or her pants.

The other thing I do on a regular basis is work out. This is not exciting in and of itself, but first of all, I've decided to train for my 2nd half marathon using a plan that I am creating myself (by the aforementioned seat of my pants). I'm much more excited about the race now that I'm making my own plan. Second of all, I go to a gym about 5 or so miles from the house, but walking in there is like walking into Jersey Shore...fast-forwarded 30 years. The people-watching there is amazing, orange, and covered in gold chains. For you, I shall report what I see. You're welcome.

So, that said: so far this week, I did 4x800s and a 2.5 mile tempo workout. I'm really pushing my speed limits this time around. I figure most days I have half an hour to work out before separation anxiety sets in and I have to rush back to Reid (who is playing happily with Daddy. It's my separation anxiety, obviously) so I better make those 30 minutes count. I've been really sore, but it feels good to push. Tomorrow is a 5-mile long run. I'm looking forward to building distance again.

Tonight I swam 30 minutes in the pool (mostly freestyle but some kickboard sprints when the goggles started to squeeze my brain). Then I came home and tried to make some kind of dinner. We were supposed to have chili, but I didn't get enough cans of beans and tomatoes. But Christy, you're whispering, you probably could have just halved the recipe. I know! I know!! OK? I know. But instead I did this:

Baked 2 sweet potatoes (425 for 1 hour)
Simmered on the stove: 1 garlic clove, minced, 1 can black beans (drained), 1 can diced tomatoes (drained), 1 small can corn (drained). Added liberal amounts of cayenne, cumin, and chili powder.

Split sweet potatoes and covered in bean mixture, topped with cheddar and green onions.

This was really, really good. I don't know what it is about sweet potatoes and black beans, but they go together like drool and bibs. And I feel totally stuffed right now, but it was good and healthy (and when I say healthy, I mean vegetably. I do not mean low-cal. I'm over that). Considering my holidays were sponsored by Usinger's and bacon (NOT that I'm complaining), it felt good to get some variety in.

I've also been making veggie purees for Reid. Giving him solid foods is kind of daunting but also really cool. It makes me feel powerful. The pediatrician said that I could give him fruit after he'd tried all the veggies and you know what? I gave him little bits of my banana today. Even though he has not tried all the veggies. I'm a bad mutha. Today we did debut butternut squash, though. It thawed really runny, so I mixed it with some cereal. This combination apparently also goes together like drool and bibs. And speaking of bibs, the little dude loved it so much that he barely even needed one.

If you told me ten years ago that I would be sitting at home on a Friday night, satisfied that I'd made good food for my family, I'd have laughed you into the next county then spouted some misguided feminist rhetoric. And now, if you'll excuse me, those dishes aren't going to wash themselves. I mean, Joel's going to wash them....I'm just finished writing for now.