Cheezy Goodness

Bet you thought this post would be some sappy goodness about my gorgeous babes. You would be wrong, although they continue to be fabulous!

While, and right before, I was pregnant, I really got into cooking. For a number of reasons: I had a fairly new (recently renovated) kitchen, and I realized I needed to USE it. I thought "I'm going to have a kid someday, so I should learn how to whip up some food!" I got tired of J's cooking (although he's quite good). It was an excuse to buy more magazines.

I got pretty decent, and now feel quite comfortable preparing a meal for the two of us. I can do a dinner party, but prefer to have help from J. with that. I have a few good dishes in my back pocket that I can whip up with ease. And now I have shelves and shelves of cooking magazines. Love them.

Obviously, as soon as I went on bedrest, cooking went out the window. And I've not picked it up again until now. In the early baby days, we had enough frozen and fresh meals brought over by friends to last for quite a while. A few folks gave us weeks of prepared meals from a chef service (we still have one week left!) Then I was so busy with not sleeping, breastfeeding, pumping, not sleeping, etc. that J. just took over kitchen duties. He was so good to me - I would've eaten nothing if not for him (that was a double negative ... so sorry!) And it's just carried over, and I realized I miss cooking. I seem to have more manageable pockets of time now, so I'm determined to figure it out.

I told J. that after church today, I needed some time on my own (read: You take care of the babies) to run some baby-free errands, including the grocery store. It's hard to shop for groceries with two babies in your cart. Trust me on that one.

When I returned, I set to work in the kitchen. Cheddar, gruyere, yummy delishiousness. A friend made this for us in post-baby haze, and I've been dying to make it. It lived up. It's a huge recipe ... now I've got lots in the freezer. But I'm not sharing.

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On a side note, fertility related. I bumped into a friend while out running my errands. I'd spoken to her husband last week while she was out of town, and he told me they were (10 weeks) expecting (second child). When I relayed my congrats, she told me she had a miscarriage. I was horrified ... here we were in a very public place, and I felt so out of sorts.

I think that I acted appropriatly, and quickly told her how sorry I was. She didn't seem outwardly upset, perhaps because she's dealt with it, or is good at faking. I don't think they had any troubles with the first one, not that it really matters). She made a funny comment about trying again is always the fun part (yea, for some of you, I wanted to say ... just teasingly of course). But I still left feeling badly. Partially for her, partially for me, somehow not just knowing that something bad had happened.