Related Searches. Cape Cod Table. Fragrant fish chowder and pumpkin bisque, rich oyster stew and salt cod, sweet beach-plum jam Fragrant fish chowder and pumpkin bisque, rich oyster stew and salt cod, sweet beach-plum jam and lobster rolls — these dishes are as evocative of Cape Cod as the salty tang of a sea breeze and the soft sand of View Product.
Don't be afraid of the dark - the dark spirits, that is. Oh, vodka and Oh, vodka and gin have their place, but whiskey, rum, Scotch, bourbon, rye, and their kind are so much deeper and more complicated; they make white spirits pale El Libro Esencial para Madres Lactantes. Her earlier cookbook, Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow-Cooker, established her bona fides as an expert on the creative use of slow-cookers, and her entire body of Good Cheap Eats Dinner in 30 Minutes or. In over recipes, Jessica Fisher shows time-pressed cooks how they can eat remarkably well In over recipes, Jessica Fisher shows time-pressed cooks how they can eat remarkably well without breaking the bank.
Good Cheap Eats serves up 65 two-course dinners, consisting of a main dish and a substantial side, salad, or soup, all In over recipes, Jessica offers a delicious alternative to fast food, takeout pizza, or In over recipes, Jessica offers a delicious alternative to fast food, takeout pizza, or over-processed foods from the supermarket with nourishing, from-scratch meals that don't break the bank or take hours to cook.
Those recipes are organized into The Joy of Pregnancy reflects this positive spirit by emphasizing what's normal, fun, and even funny about pregnancy. In this thoroughly revised and updated Nearly 60 percent of American households today consist of only one or two people, yet Nearly 60 percent of American households today consist of only one or two people, yet most cookbooks don't reflect this trend, with recipes designed for large families, yielding servings.
For individuals and small families who want to cook hearty, I didn't show you the photo of us on the car ride home , sitting in silence, because one of us said something that the other one took the wrong way and now we're both annoyed that a perfectly good evening had to turn into this awkward stuck-in-traffic moment. I also didn't show you the photo of my husband grabbing my hand in the hallway at 2 a. We'll get through this, babe. I showed you the photo of my three kids piled on my lap as we read a bedtime story. We're all smiling, one of them is kissing me while the other two hug each other, and they all happen to be wearing clean pajamas.
I did not show you the photo of what happened five seconds later —the hug devolved into a wrestling match, the kissing turned into a bite, and apparently one of them was secretly holding a tube of toothpaste because it is now all over his fingers and those clean pajamas. I showed you the photo of me with the kids at Target. We're all making silly faces and my fresh Starbucks coffee looks like heaven in a cup. I did not show you the photo of the checkout line meltdown , where literally all three of them are crying, everyone is staring, and I no longer have my coffee because I forgot it on a shelf somewhere while I was trying to keep my toddler from leaping out of the cart.
I didn't show you the photo of me slumped over on my bed that night, head buried in my hands as I just cry. This is just so hard. It was a regular day in motherhood, just like mine. Just like all of our's. Hectic, crazy, stressful, loving, loud, exhausting— real.
The photos I show you on Instagram are real except for the ones that show a clean house , but they are only a sliver of my reality. I think I choose to show you those because they feel safe. They can't judge me if I only show them a sliver. But here's the thing—the more I learn about other moms, the more I realize that you are not , in fact judging me.
You're judging yourself. Just like I am.
A Modern Woman’s Guide to A Natural Empowering Birth
Just like we all are. We hold ourselves to some impossible standard that does nothing but stress us out. If we look back at my day and it doesn't look like a spread from Pinterest, we somehow failed. I am learning that the real beauty comes from those unexpected, unplanned moments that are hectic and crazy and stressful and loving and loud and exhausting and real.
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So I vow to show you my mess. To show you the tantrums and tears and the doubts.
Because those are all real moments of my life. My whole life is IG worthy , not just the sparkly perfect ones. It's not fair to other hidden beautiful moments of my life to only show you that tiny sliver. I laid on my back in a dimly lit room. It was dead silent in the room except for the odd clicking and tapping sound coming from the computer next to me.
My stomach was cold from the jelly that was spread on it, and my bladder felt as though it was about to burst, but I didn't care. This was the day I had been waiting for since I saw those two pink lines appear. The day I had thought of when I fell to the floor in my bathroom, crying tears of joy at the thought of becoming a mother. This was it. I kept sneaking glances at the ultrasound technician. She was in her mids if I had to guess, with short dark hair and some pretty stylish glasses. She didn't have a smile on her face though; in fact, she looked like she was frowning at the screen in front of her.
It has nothing to do with you or the baby. But I couldn't relax. The tech scrunched up her face, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing on her screen. She kept letting out little sighs that were so far from comforting that my eyes began to well up. I'm not allowed to disclose any information to you during this appointment.
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The appointment ended and she wiped the goo from my swollen belly. The belly that I had for 20 weeks. The belly that I was now, without a doubt, worried for. The next morning I woke up with the panic from the previous day's appointment having slowly subsided after a night's rest. As I made my coffee, mentally preparing to start my day, my phone rang.
The doctor wanted me to come in right away for an emergency appointment. She told me that my baby was sick and we needed to discuss it in person. I didn't have a husband or a boyfriend to drive me to the appointment; up until then, this had never bothered me. I got into my car in an almost catatonic state and drove. I drove for what felt like hours yet mere seconds all at the same time. My mind was a mixture of blank and turmoil, alternating between denial and panic. I sat in the chair in her office.
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The walls filled with posters of babies and happy moms, the color underneath a comforting shade of purple. There was a plant in the corner of the room—a fern maybe? I had never been good with houseplants; ironically, I could never keep them alive. Are you with me so far?
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As I'm sure you know, without properly developed lungs, the baby's chances of making it past birth are extremely slim. I didn't say anything for a few minutes. I just sat there, taking it all in. At this point, there wasn't much for me to say, or do for that matter. There was a woman in front of me telling me my baby was going to die. What can you say to that? They'll be able to give you further information that we simply can't.
I'm so sorry.