The silly little things in life

Last night we ate like royalty.  Allow me to be clear: I have not made dinner but once (and maybe you can count the sandwiches I may have made) since William was born.  We are blessed by friends bringing meals, parents cooking, and the existence of Chick'fil'A and Papa John's.  It's not so much the cooking I am avoiding, but the making time for it, and for shopping, and for thinking at all.  Thinking about something other than a nursing schedule for one child, a potty training schedule for another, and a red wine schedule for myself.  With a brain monopolized by milk, underwear, and alcohol there is little room for anything else right now. 

However, I am woman hear me roar.  At least that is what seems to be the expected mantra of mothers (or any woman for that matter) and I was determined to rise above.  I fished out frozen meat (a combination of chicken and tilapia) from the freezer and pumped myself up to make a trip to the grocery store for salad ingredients.  Arriving at the grocery store, I was overwhelmed by the produce section (see notes of brain monopoly above) so instead settled for spindly asparagus.  Not willing to make my second dinner as a mother of two an utterly bland and unplanned disaster, I snagged our favorite topping, blue cheese, from the expensive cheese section-- I was too stressed (see note again) by the size of the supermarket to traverse it for cheaper fromage. 

Instead of cooking each meat and vegetable in its appropriate pan and therefore accruing a sinkful of sticky dishes, I announced that we would be throwing everything on the grill.  I slapped bbq sauce and balsamic on the chicken and passed it off to Josh, threw the partially thawed fish on too, and tossed olive oil doused asparagus in with the mix.  I mentally wiped my hands of the meal and sipped my red wine while Josh tended the Weber.

Soon I ventured out to see my delicacies being cooked to delicious perfection.  What I saw was less than impressive.  Skinny sticks of asparagus were roasting next to bite size portions of chicken, and we both had to laugh because my less-than-thawed fish was so mushy that the lion's share was falling through the cracks and leaving a doozy of a mess on the grill racks.  I had been concerned that I was using up too much meat for one meal, but now it appeared we'd all be two bites in before dinner was over...

You know the crazy part?  I couldn't have been happier.  It was just all too fun.  Dinner smelled good (who cares how it looked-- I was cooking, hot damn and hallelujah!)  Instead of kicking myself for halfway thawing fish I was giggling uncontrollably with my husband, who hugged me and laughed too.  I was drinking good red wine and you know what, that blue cheese afterthought sprinkled on top of everything made the whole meal taste like the finest gourmet.