36 - Domestication.

I recently began learning how to cook in a real way. Do you know how easy it is to bake chicken breast?!

This weekend I challenged myself to make meals for the week using the stuff we had on hand. (Okay, I cheated a tiny bit and got a couple things from the grocery store to complete some recipes.)

This meant meal planning. Meal prepping. And me, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Oy. I AM ALL THE CLICHES.

I spent 5 hours in the kitchen making meals. It was crazy. Like actually crazy. I was racing against the clock because we had a babysitter coming promptly at 7pm. The babysitter coming means drop EVERYTHING and run out the door. Because. Babysitter. Get da hell outta there and be toddler-free.

I was crushing it, nailing it, so pumped. I made so much food and some of it is even truly delicious.

Time was ticking away and I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Surrounded by all this food, and hadn't eaten! The time came. The babysitter arrived. I had to do something. I'm pregnant, for God's sake! Feed the baby('s mother's thighs).

You know what I ate? After all that. I walked out of the house with a baggie of pretzels & cheese, and an apple wrapped up in a paper towel (which doubled as cutting board then napkin on-the-go).

WTF is my prob? Am I actually a toddler? (Well, cheese IS delicious. Who am I kidding.)