I finally broke down and attacked my son with scissors last night.
Wait! That came out wrong! Don’t call CPS on me!
What I mean is that I finally cut his hair. By myself. In a moment of desperation, right in between needing a new outfit and the bath. (You mom’s know what I’m talking about.)
So I cut his hair. While he sat naked on the bathroom floor, simultaneously trying to crawl away, grab the scissors, and eat his own sheared-off hair. It’s a miracle we survived.
And it’s a miracle I survived when Eric saw his haircut. It is BAD, my friends. It looks like I had my eyes closed.
You’d think I’d never heard of a high chair. Which is ironic, because Eric just commented the other day after Truman had spent another HOUR “eating dinner” that the Year of the High Chair has begun. Sometimes it’s easier to lock him up than to turn around every 2 minutes to find him chewing through my computer cord or choking on Charlotte’s half-eaten peanut butter sandwich from yesterday.
(Yes! A 10-month-old! Eating peanut butter! This was a test. You should actually be exclaiming about the fact that I left Charlotte’s half-eaten-peanut-butter-sandwich-from-yesterday on the floor. Just be grateful I’m not feeding her said sandwich today.)
Are you still there? Here, have some soup. This one’s a no-brainer guys. I made it twice, and BOTH times I let the cauliflower boil over, resulting in a massive amount of sticky residue on my stove. The fact that it still tasted amazing is a testament to the recipe. It’s pretty forgiving. Just don’t walk away with the lid on and the heat on high. Or do, and clean up the mess. Either way you will get delicious soup.
The secret ingredient is the dijon. Who knew? It’s a game changer, and a simple one at that. This recipe is adapted from my friend Christina over at Food Apparel. It’a Cafe Zupa’s knock off. Have you tried Zupa’s? It’s a Utah chain. I love that place. Eric and I ate there alllll the time before we moved.
Do yourself a favor and buy an immersion blender. Then you won’t have to transfer burning hot soup to a blender and back to the pot. My mom bought me an immersion blender years ago as an engagement present. I had no idea what it was and hid it under some shoes in my closet. I was totally in denial about getting married, and I couldn’t believe that I was old enough to be getting mature, real-life practical gifts like immersion blenders.
But since I’m sure you’re much more mature than me, just buy one. (And don’t worry. My immersion blender and I are like THIS now. Thanks Mom!)
Source: adapted from Food Apparel