That. That has got to be my least favourite question at the moment.
I've been trying to figure out just when it was that this question moved
from mild annoyance to full-blown get-the-woman-a-martini meltdown territory and I've figured it out...
Rather than one big thing, it's an accumulation of little things.
You know, little things like...
Little Thing #1
... you were en route to Woolies, you even parked and got out of the car. You even strapped on the baby pouch carrier thingee and managed to fish a written (not scribbled) shopping list out from inbetween the wet wipes and a slobbery Sophie. You were good to go, you grabbed a trolley, you even started filling it and then, well, the angelic little cherub strapped to your leaky bosom suddenly morphed into a wailing banshee playing the bagpipes (badly). '
'What's for dinner?'he asked.
'There's a Mimmos menu on the fridge,' I said.
Little Thing #2
...you were going to make man food (a.k.a spaghetti bolognese), you even took the mince out to defrost that morning. You planned to prep and chop and sautée while Little played with her finger food. You planned some unsupervised simmering during her lovely, long bath. You planned to grate dairy and al denté carbs while she drifted off to sleep after her bedtime story. Only that evening... she turned her finger foods into tiny veggie shaped missiles, decided that she'd rather be anywhere than in the bath, then anywhere other than on my lap with a book, then anywhere other than in her bed. And so, the defrosted mince was anywhere other than 'cooked'.
'What's for dinner?'
'Leftovers from last night's Mimmos.'
Little Thing #3
... you were honestly, genuinely, hand on heart going to turn the bounty of fresh 'ready to go' ingredients (sprawled across the kitchen island like a styled Jamie Oliver recipe book shoot) into a delicious, wholesome man food meal* and then, well, you looked at the clock... it was 18h15... Little was fed, bathed and in bed... asleep. Fast asleep. And... hubby wasn't home yet**. And, well, that episode of that series you've been meaning to Catch Up on expires tonight. So...
"Hello, Mimmos? I'd like to place an order for delivery, please."
Perhaps it's the timing of it... slap, bang, right after I've just tip-toed out the nursery and closed the door like a super-stealth ninja assasin. Perhaps it's the long list of perfectly valid new mom excuses that don't seem to be deemed as valid by new dads. Whatever it is... let's just say that I've decided to nip this whole 'What's for dinner?' issue slap, bang in the bud by making sure that at least 5 outta 7 days I have the answer...
It's called a fridge/freezer full of sanity***. It's called next day, free delivery. It's called Baby Tastes and Servd Fresh and Home Cooks.
And, it's bloomin' marvelous.
* with a slightly less delicious but equally wholesome version for yourself #babyweightblitz
** so, quick, better hide the 'I almost cooked from scratch' evidence.
*** I'm not talking fish fingers here, I'm talking pre-prepared, homecooked, 'man food' goodness
Rather than one big thing, it's an accumulation of little things.
You know, little things like...
Little Thing #1
... you were en route to Woolies, you even parked and got out of the car. You even strapped on the baby pouch carrier thingee and managed to fish a written (not scribbled) shopping list out from inbetween the wet wipes and a slobbery Sophie. You were good to go, you grabbed a trolley, you even started filling it and then, well, the angelic little cherub strapped to your leaky bosom suddenly morphed into a wailing banshee playing the bagpipes (badly). '
'What's for dinner?'he asked.
'There's a Mimmos menu on the fridge,' I said.
Little Thing #2
...you were going to make man food (a.k.a spaghetti bolognese), you even took the mince out to defrost that morning. You planned to prep and chop and sautée while Little played with her finger food. You planned some unsupervised simmering during her lovely, long bath. You planned to grate dairy and al denté carbs while she drifted off to sleep after her bedtime story. Only that evening... she turned her finger foods into tiny veggie shaped missiles, decided that she'd rather be anywhere than in the bath, then anywhere other than on my lap with a book, then anywhere other than in her bed. And so, the defrosted mince was anywhere other than 'cooked'.
'What's for dinner?'
'Leftovers from last night's Mimmos.'
Little Thing #3
... you were honestly, genuinely, hand on heart going to turn the bounty of fresh 'ready to go' ingredients (sprawled across the kitchen island like a styled Jamie Oliver recipe book shoot) into a delicious, wholesome man food meal* and then, well, you looked at the clock... it was 18h15... Little was fed, bathed and in bed... asleep. Fast asleep. And... hubby wasn't home yet**. And, well, that episode of that series you've been meaning to Catch Up on expires tonight. So...
"Hello, Mimmos? I'd like to place an order for delivery, please."
Perhaps it's the timing of it... slap, bang, right after I've just tip-toed out the nursery and closed the door like a super-stealth ninja assasin. Perhaps it's the long list of perfectly valid new mom excuses that don't seem to be deemed as valid by new dads. Whatever it is... let's just say that I've decided to nip this whole 'What's for dinner?' issue slap, bang in the bud by making sure that at least 5 outta 7 days I have the answer...
It's called a fridge/freezer full of sanity***. It's called next day, free delivery. It's called Baby Tastes and Servd Fresh and Home Cooks.
And, it's bloomin' marvelous.
* with a slightly less delicious but equally wholesome version for yourself #babyweightblitz
** so, quick, better hide the 'I almost cooked from scratch' evidence.
*** I'm not talking fish fingers here, I'm talking pre-prepared, homecooked, 'man food' goodness
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