What Goes Around, Comes Around

I have loudly decreed for a couple of months now, that I don't cook. It is strangely liberating to frankly tell perceptive suitors that if I'm their future "eternal companion" then we are going to have pasta every night. The sauce will be from a jar.

With my first official nanny job I did feel like a pretty good cook, because I was asked to cook everything from scratch. (I think it's important to realize the only other person who ate my cooking was a 10 month old boy, and he didn't talk.)

Anyway, this week I was pretty bored with all of our usual meal options and so I channelled those nanny memories and made something from scratch. Yes it is true, I didn't even look in a cookbook.

I was chopping and sauteing. I used about half of the pans in the house, and while I was stirring and straining I started thinking, "Gosh this is really fun! Maybe I am a good cook." And we ended up with a tasty and more importantly pretty pasta dish. I was tickled. The baby boy was not as excited. He ate one bite of pasta and I managed to get a second bite in his mouth, but he spit it back up.

With pasta in one hand A. pointed at the trash can with the other hand and said, "Umm. Umm. Umm" For those of you who don't know this baby boy, that is his very clear way of saying, "Tressa, this belongs in the garbage."

A. had a jar of baby food for the rest of the meal, and I sulked as I ate the rest of the pasta. Maybe I'm not so excited that A. is getting more expressive.

I want to close this blog with a special note to my mom.

Mom. I am sorry for being such a picky eater. I get the rep for being the meek submissive child, but I am just beginning to realize, there were times when I was a pill.

(This is A. when we have meals he likes. We had fruit.)