I've been watching a lot of Food Network (I turn it on while feeding Olivia) and lately there's been an influx of comfort food dishes, including several versions of spaghetti and meatballs. I love meatballs and I never get them when we go out because there's always something more interesting on the menu (like short ribs in cabernet sauce). I've purchased frozen meatballs, but have yet to find decent ones.
My friend Lauren and I like to cook together (or for each other), especially when our guys are traveling. She's a fair and supportive critic of new recipes, so I didn't think twice about declaring last night "Meatball Night." Never mind that I have an infant whose witching hour (fussy time) is dinnertime. So I'm trying to squish tomatoes and mix raw meat with my hands, and it's a debate whether to let her cry in the crib (which stresses me out) or have her in the Baby Bjorn (which is, frankly, in my way while cooking). I did a combination of the two, and things were going pretty well until I ran out of bread crumbs and olive oil (I was so focused on finding real San Marzano tomatoes that I forgot to check the meatball ingredients before grocery shopping). The dreaded realization struck that I can't just do things like I used to, but it turned out to be worth the effort and as good as it looked on TV. I used Tyler's recipe for Pomodoro Sauce and the spiky blonde lady's recipe for the meatballs, and next time I'm going to try out my new anchovy paste in the sauce.
And because Lauren was here and the time change is looming, I decided to make Olivia's bedtime early. Lauren gave her a bottle a little before 9 and she was asleep by 9:15 (45 minutes early) so I figured she'd be up early, too. Nope, I finally went in the nursery at 8:30 (an hour later than normal) and found Oivia smiling at the mobile. She inch-worms from one end of the crib to the other during the night. And how did I know she was awake before I went in? I could hear her sneeze; my mom said when I was a baby that's how she'd know I was awake, too.
My friend Lauren and I like to cook together (or for each other), especially when our guys are traveling. She's a fair and supportive critic of new recipes, so I didn't think twice about declaring last night "Meatball Night." Never mind that I have an infant whose witching hour (fussy time) is dinnertime. So I'm trying to squish tomatoes and mix raw meat with my hands, and it's a debate whether to let her cry in the crib (which stresses me out) or have her in the Baby Bjorn (which is, frankly, in my way while cooking). I did a combination of the two, and things were going pretty well until I ran out of bread crumbs and olive oil (I was so focused on finding real San Marzano tomatoes that I forgot to check the meatball ingredients before grocery shopping). The dreaded realization struck that I can't just do things like I used to, but it turned out to be worth the effort and as good as it looked on TV. I used Tyler's recipe for Pomodoro Sauce and the spiky blonde lady's recipe for the meatballs, and next time I'm going to try out my new anchovy paste in the sauce. 
And because Lauren was here and the time change is looming, I decided to make Olivia's bedtime early. Lauren gave her a bottle a little before 9 and she was asleep by 9:15 (45 minutes early) so I figured she'd be up early, too. Nope, I finally went in the nursery at 8:30 (an hour later than normal) and found Oivia smiling at the mobile. She inch-worms from one end of the crib to the other during the night. And how did I know she was awake before I went in? I could hear her sneeze; my mom said when I was a baby that's how she'd know I was awake, too. 
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