My dear readers will recall that this is a blog about the desire to have a domestic life, despite impediments (school, job, neuroses, cluelessness). Having a baby presents so many more openings to be domestic, so much less time in which to do it, and so many more ways to feel inadequate. Today, eight months in, I realized that despite working nearly full-time and raising a baby, I've been blaming myself for not doing more—like I should be planning elaborate dinner parties or writing a novel on the side. I decided to give myself permission to shelve the dinner-party-and-novel plans for now.
Dinner parties for one, however: eminently doable. I didn't always think so. Making baby food intimidated me a lot. But then I realized that mashing a banana or avocado is pretty easy. Even the whole steaming-freezing-pureeing routine isn't too hard. I've made pears, plums, and butternut squash so far. How many other people you cook for are going to be satisfied with a one-ingredient meal? Extra bonus: lots of leftovers. I made about twelve baby servings of butternut squash puree and still had half a cooked squash left over, which I devoured on the spot.
The little guy is an interested, if initially skeptical, diner: