Sunday, June 1, 2008


One of the many benefits of having a baby (combined with the many benefits of having friends, and yes, I DO have friends, so stop sniggering . . .) is that previously mentioned friends don their super-human, Metropolis-saving outfits (A.K.A. "aprons") and start delivering meals.

Every other day.

For three weeks.

This is why it takes up to three years to get rid of baby weight.

So far, Handyman has correctly interpreted my steely eyes and has limited his comments to, "Mmmmm, this is tasty . . ." Only once did he slip up and mention, "Wow, this quiche is the best I've ever tasted . . . do you make quiche, dear?"

Yes. I make quiche. At least once a month. But not anymore.

The coup de resistance was Friday, when our pastor's wife Kari dropped off Chicken Fajitas. Now, before you view the picture below, you have to put on your internal sound track and play an angelic choir singing, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh" while the plate gently glows with heavenly light.At first, I was struck with terrible guilt that while Handyman and I gobbled down this delicacy, my children were eating left-overs and macaroni and cheese.Then I remembered that I've gone through a combined 70 hours of labor for those little grubby fingers.

I'm not sharing a bite.