Friday is family pizza night. I call in the order and Himself picks it up on his way home from work. We eat off paper plates and C gnaws on bits of chicken steamed peas and carrots. We talk about our week. It's a nice way to welcome the weekend.
This Friday night, though, Himself made plans to golf at the Club. C and I were on our own for dinner. After a trip to the grocery store, we settled in for a 'momma and me' meal.
I had been meaning to try one of the "advanced" recipes in C's baby food cookbook. Once she was old enough for solids, I had diligently roasted veggies and steamed fruits for homemade baby purees. Blended smooth and poured into ice cube trays, the frozen servings were handy for lunch and dinner. But C had recently abandoned the purees of butternut squash and carrot-zucchini for finger foods: diced chicken, asparagus, even orzo. She was an independent eater. It was a sight to see her chasing peas and sweet potatoes across her tray, closing her tiny fist around a piece of chicken and shoveling it into her mouth.
Tonight, I woud try my hand at the mac 'n cheese recipe. It was a typical recipe - sauteed onions, flour for the rue, milk and cheese, nutmeg. Despite warnings about avoiding dairy until the first birthday, the cookbook labeled this meal as suitable for a 10 month old. So we gave it a go.
Stovetop mac 'n cheese had become a favorite of mine since I began experimenting in the kitchen after we got married. I preferred meals from scratch if I had the time. Meals from scratch always tasted better than something from a box. Once C had begun eating solids, my goal was to introduce her to different flavors and spices hoping she wouldn't become the picky eater I was as a kid.
As I cooked, we listened online to an Irish radio station online. It was nearly midnight in Ireland, so the playlist was geared toward the club crowd. Lots of techno dance music with thumping bass and electronic stylings. I remembered my semester in Ireland and the weekends at the disco. My friends and I would cram into a mini-bus that took us to the next village where we pushed our way into a crowded pub where the music shook the window panes and vibrated in our chests.
The music in my kitchen was a reasonable volume and I bounced my knees in a simulated dance. C's face spread into a gummy, two-toothed grin. She giggled. I stirred the milk and cheese to prevent it from scalding and bounced my knees some more. C crawled furiously across the hardwood, giggling away.
When the mac n' cheese was finished simmering, I spooned some into a bowl for myself. I spooned another scoop into a small bowl to cool on the counter for C. The electronic beats sped up and I sat down on the kitchen floor where C was playing. She put aside "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and crawled over to my lap. I took a piece of macaroni from my bowl and held it out to her. Her mouth opened like a little bird, considering the new entree. She edged closer, pulling herself up to stand and steadying her wobbly legs as she held my forearm. Her mouth opened wider. I gave her another bite.
The next morning, Himself admitted regret in having missed family pizza night. I nodded, not letting on that I had been a bit put out initially. Lord knows I've fought him on golf before but realized it's not a fight worth having. We had a dance party, I told him. His eyes widened. We ate on the kitchen floor, danced, and giggled. Just us girls.
I want more of this.
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