The little things

As one of my New Year's Not-Really-Resolutions-But-More-Like-Things-I-Want-To-Do-More, I decided I was going to stop being a complainer.

Yes, you read it right my dears, I am a complainer. I always have a beef with something. Or someone. Usually many someones.

But I am so very, very blessed, and I know this, and so I decided I really need to redirect my energies and focus on those good things I've got going.

Most nights, this comes into play when I have struggled through another day at the bee hive, rushed home to spend some time with H, gotten him down to sleep, and am running around loading laundry, cleaning bottles, picking up toys, and making dinner before W comes home. I'm stressed, I'm tired, and I'm wondering when I actually get to live. You know, instead of just getting through the day.

So I make myself stop for 5 miliseconds. I think about those things I have that make me so very lucky. Usually, my mind goes right to W & H. Those boys are the best ever and I don't know how the universe paired crazy, complaining me with those angels.

Other times, I think about my great parents, my hilarious friends, my health, the roof over our heads.

Last night, my eyes drifted over to the kitchen island. And I suddenly had my "Life is good" moment:

Oh. Hell. Yes. Irish potatos are delish. They are divine. They mean spring. Instant smile! If you live in a sad part of the world where these are not available every March, I am sorry. I have a recipe if you need it. And you do need it.

Foooood!

So W and I are most certainly what you would call foodies. Back in our pre-baby, who-cares-how-much-it-costs days, we would spend our evenings gallivanting through the city. Perhaps that's an overstatement, but if there was a new restaurant or an "in" ingredient, we'd tried it. We'd have 7-hour marathon cooking sessions at home, topped off with bottles of wine from the fancy temperate-controlled section of the wine store. Those were good times.

Since the arrival of H, we have calmed ourselves more than a bit. We still love to cook and grab at the opportunity for a dinner out, but most dinners are straight outa the fridge.

H is now eating "real" food, though, and I see a light at the end of the freezer aisle. A day where we cook and H can join us in our culinary delights. A meal where the most flavorful thing on the menu isn't whole grain rice mush.

H has discovered his new favorite food:


Not impressed? Yea, I know it's from a jar. But it's organic! And it's mangos! One hell of a step up from strained peas.

Anyway, H cannot get enough of his pears and mangos. He usually considers meal time a game of "Where can I shove the spoon now???" and half the food ends up in his hair or ears come clean-up time. For this, though, his mouth eagerly opens, he swallows, and the mouth is right back open again. He powered through the entire 4 oz jar in minutes. And looked a little sad when I turned it upside down to prove it was "all done."

So what's next? Bluefin? Caviar? Escargot? Maybe one day. I think for now, we'll tackle blueberries. That should be good, clean fun.