Our dynamic for meals has changed almost entirely
- Scott Daniels: We Ate Well and Cheaply
- March 14, 2021
- 758
Christmas is past, yes, but I’m frequently reminded of the line from the holiday movie, “A Christmas Story.” Ralphie remarks about his poor mother always eating after he and his little brother are finished. “My mother hadn’t had a hot meal in 15 years.”
I feel you, Ralphie.
With a rapidly growing, demanding infant in the house, the dynamic for meals has changed almost entirely. Gone are the times when we worked toward the goal of achieving a certain calm Frenchness at dinnertime, savoring small courses and enjoying plenty of wine between.
Eating in this new world, much like sleeping, must be stolen when a few seconds present themselves, rather like crossing constant mine fields and developing a keen eye for safe, open space. Step in the wrong direction or miss a cue, and the scream bombs go off, after which no one can get much more than a quick string cheese and a gulp of something wet and close at hand.
We’ve eliminated foods from our menus that require both hands to be soiled. My wife gave up seafood in the early days of pregnancy because the mere thought made her feel nauseated. Now with her birthday coming up this month, she considered asking for some crab legs for her special celebratory dinner. Her excitement turned to a pout when she realized having both hands sopping with claw juice would make for an impossible scenario should we not be able to get Junior down for a solid hour-long nap first.
I of course offered the chivalrous plan of remaining clean handed while she enjoyed her birthday treat, but she’s a woman of good breeding who wouldn’t consider such a one-sided plan, at least not out loud.
There are few things I enjoy so much as a big pile of chicken wings in a spicy, sticky sauce, but such a thing is impossible unless I’ve taken leave of my tiny mind. You can’t pick up an unhappy baby with your fingers stuck together in sauce, let alone touch tender infant skin with the heat of spice.
If you think a baby’s hunger cries can seek out and pluck your spine like an upright bass, you should have a listen when their skin is aflame with habanero sauce. Wings are out of the question.
Food choices, for the moment, are limited to things that can be put down cleanly at a moment’s notice, either to feed the baby or to deal with a diaper leak, which miraculously show up just south of a baby’s little, fat-rolled neck.
Thank goodness potato chips can be eaten one-handed, as can salads, as long as they aren’t too drippy. If we have any kind of meat requiring that it be cut into edible bites, one of us takes meat-cutting duty while the other does whatever the Little Darling is insisting upon at the moment. Meatballs are a hit because you can cut them with a fork.
I’ve never eaten so many ham and cheese sandwiches in my life, and I’ve gotten remarkably good at spreading mayo on the bread with one hand while bouncing a wobbly headed newborn in the other, all on 20 minutes of sleep. I almost wish there was some kind of competition for screwing the nippled cap on a baby bottle with one hand. Thank the Lord above for single-cup coffee machines you can operate with almost no hands at all.
But as I have been reminded, these days are long, but the years are quite short. I know full well I’ll blink and he’ll be in college and I’ll wonder what the devil happened to that kid who was spitting up on my shoulder and pulling my hair just minutes ago. No matter how much “hungry” screaming I hear at 3 a.m., no matter how many favorite dinners I have to give up for the time being, it’s genuinely all worth it when those beautiful, bright blue eyes with the ridiculously long lashes look up at me and a tiny, toothless smile flickers for a moment over that fat, little face. You can keep your crab legs, for now.