PPC day eighty: sometimes they know better

This morning Truman wanted pizza so I thought of a plan to take a tortilla, cheese, carrots he could chop himself and some chicken, stick it in the oven and: pizza.

This made me realize that in all the time I wasn't cooking in the last six or more weeks I didn't notice that Truman really likes to cook.

So what used to be taking time from him, making a mess, cleaning a mess, finding something else for him to do -- often making a mess in the kitchen -- has become a win-win.

So I planned to make these pizzas open face because that is what a pizza is, but Truman wanted a tortilla on top, then while I wasn't looking, another tortilla on top.

If I was looking I would have told him that he didn't need three tortillas in his pizza. That is a lot of tortilla.

But while they were cooking I got distracted and burned them. Well, guess whose pizza turned out great?

The one with the safety tortilla.

I just pealed the burned tortilla off and there it was a perfectly good quesdadi ... I mean ... pizza.

He knows best sometimes. I need to remember that when I am looking and in situations that involve things more important than pizza.

And the rest of our lives is deciding when to trust him and when to trust me.

Wish us luck.

PPC day seventy nine: I made dinner

That, my friends, is a huge task.

I usually end up waiting until 4 or 5, then am forced into some kind of boring or non-ideal dinner, which for the end of pregnancy meant Joe would be greeted by a very round, hungry lady and a stir-crazy 2-year old zooming toward bed time.

Then I would request to go out because, frankly, the idea of cooking was exhausting. Or we would eat something prepared simply. Nothing exciting to the soul.

I am lucky enough to be part of a community that sent me food after Keen was born and oh were the home cooked meals delicious.

Thank you Nikki, Sally, Meredith, Jen, Vanessa (who was compelled to make "Keenwa" (quinoa) salad), Amy (who had a baby just 10 days before Keen was born) and Katrina (who was kind enough to bring them right to me).

Yesterday I started thinking about all the things I want to do and got pretty overwhelmed. I made a list of needs each of us has and a loose outline for each day.

Then thought, "I can't do all this, ahhh."

But after sleeping I felt there was only one way to find out.

So I tried.

And here I am about to feast on the fruits of my labor.

And it was something Truman and I could do together. He likes to chop and stir.

Instead of feeling the need to escape the house at the end of this day, I feel excitement to sit down with my family (of 4!) and eat a meal we made in peace with love.

And some yelling. I am not going to lie; there was definitely peace and love, but also yelling.