So… what’s new with you? How’ve you been? Chit chat, chit chat, chit chat. Ok, fine. I know. I’m a crap blogger and I’m lucky that the 5 people who still check this blog have jobs so boring that they’re forced to type in my ridiculously long url in hopes of a 2 minute distraction. And to those 5 people, let me just say I’m sorry for not posting and I’m sorry in advance for this poorly organized post!
I have a lot to cover. First, I’m no longer working in food. Actually, I’m no longer working at all so to speak. Shortly after my Fondue & the City mixer at Murray’s, I found out that fondue and beer really do mean love… I was preggers! Finding out the news basically threw my life into disarray and gave me new found perspective on everything. I decided to leave Murray’s (with 2 months notice as I can never seem to leave a job with the standard 2 weeks notice like a normal person) and work part-time at FCI while redoing my apartment kitchen. Goodbye galley, hello open, stainless steel, marble counter heaven!
And hello BABY! After 22 hours of labor (yup, 22 glorious hours) and one c-section, my GIANT 8 lb 13 oz baby boy arrived with a head of dark hair and bright beautiful eyes to a chorus from my doctors and nurses of, “Whoa, he’s huge! No wonder he wouldn’t come out.” Magic. Simply magic. Not so magic are the remaining stretch marks, but let that be a lesson to pregnant women everywhere that daily belgian waffles with strawberries are not conducive to moderate weight gain. My son (how weird does THAT sound???) is by far the most demanding boss that I’ve ever had and has reduced me to basically a milking cow, but he’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to me – well, he and my husband are because without my husband, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Now that I’m unemployed with absolutely no time to string together a coherent thought, I figured it might be a good time to post again! Yup, that’s classic Disaster logic for you. I’m not sure what I will be able to write about as I’m 1) Not really cooking so much as speed-dialing takeout and 2) Not feeding my baby anything except for excessive quantities of breast milk. Oh, I should also mention that my baby has almost doubled his weight in 2 months – he’s a sumo wrestler. The kid looks like he ate another baby in the hospital nursery. The nurse at his pediatricians office didn’t believe me when I said he was 2 months and went to verify it with the doctor. Have no fear, I’m sure I will think of something… Maybe I’ll write about what I wish I were eating right now instead of the horribly healthy rice cracker with hummus that I’m using to crumb up my keyboard.
What I’m dreaming about right now is actually a bottle of Goose Island Oatmeal Stout. Here’s the thing, if you’re a mom who’s breastfeeding, it’s supposed to be perfect for you because it helps you produce milk. So I should be able to drink it, right??? Not so fast. I, being the freak of nature/walking disaster that I am, have the opposite problem and have an oversupply of milk. I could feed a small country and if I were granola enough, be making cheese out of my reserves like that crazy chick who brought hers to Murray’s and made our VP taste it (that didn’t go well, by the way). While pregnant, I dreamed of an excuse to be able to drink up the Oatmeal Stout’s rich, nutty, dark, slightly savory goodness… And now, of course, I can’t touch the stuff for fear that I will become more milk than woman.
So please, good readers, whether you’re breastfeeding or not, go find a bottle and drink it up for me! I welcome you to laugh at my expense while you sip its frothy goodness. Just know that as you do, I will be viciously hating you with every fiber of my being. That’s right, motherhood has not softened me. Not. One. Bit. Cheers!