Okay, it wasn't my so much as the brilliance of friends that recommended these Velcro swaddles. It seems kind of like a medieval torture device but somehow experts agree that this is not torturing our babies. The babies like to be bound tightly so that they cannot move their arms. To me this sounds like a nightmare but the babies don't seem to mind. Even if they do mind it's easy to put the torture aspect out of your mind if you're able to snatch an extra hour of sleep. Besides, they say that we're not torturing our babies.
We're not torturing our babies.
It's gotten increasingly difficult to find time to make dinner. Even with a helper here and a complete day off of work the babies monopolize most of our time. Even throwing together a dinner which I'd previously have considered phoning it in takes about every spare second that is not spent caring for children.
I was able to put together this salad with greens, tomatoes from the farm, red onion, Sun Gold tomatoes from the farm, and some spicy avocado vinaigrette.
I also put together some couscous in this makeshift tagine which uses two ancient pans that probably should have been thrown away years ago.
For the tagine I caramelized some farm onion in olive oil, tossed in some of the farm purple peppers, eggplant, and tomatoes. I also browned up some nice lamb sausages and threw in some dried figs before adding some couscous, chicken stock from the freezer, water, and chives from my mother's garden.
Elliott immediately started fussing before dinner so I had to eat and drink while holding him in my lap.
For a drink I had this RastafaRye from Blue Point Brewing Company. I've been eyeballing this one for years but I never bought it because the head on the bottle kind freaked me out. However, this was a very nice, surprisingly malty, rye ale. It went better with the lamb couscous than I would have thought. If I was smart I would have saved this beer for a Jamaican-themed meal but, you know, I'm not really smart.
Speaking of Jamaica, Elliott has taken to doing his Usain Bolt impression while sitting in his Boppy. The babies have spent about 50% of their life at this point watching the Olympics so it isn't too surprising. Even though they've spent far more time watching Michael Phelps they haven't quite identified with him the same way. This could be because Phelps has not yet given himself as iconic a stance. Unless you count that pose where he celebrates his victory.
The babies' abs are notably softer than Mr. Phelps's at this point. I think we're going to start taking them to the gym.