My husband and I are making an effort. To cook more. To exercise more. To eat healthier. To save money. And so, inevitably, I found myself in the grocery store today.
I am not a Sunday shopper. I can’t deal with the crowds, and I can’t pack my already busy weekends with one more thing (see yesterday’s Slice for proof!). I have always been a Monday shopper. I used to go to the gym on Monday evenings, then hit the grocery store. I was motivated to make healthy choices (even though I was starving from working out and so often bought more than I needed to), and the aisles were all mine at 7:30 on a Monday night.
But, as with all things (my Slices are beginning to take on a theme . . . ) all that changed when I had a baby. For the first few weeks I rarely cooked. I was keeping one human alive, I couldn’t do three. My husband and I ordered out, or I hastily put things in the CrockPot, or defrosted frozen chili or pasta sauce (thanks, Mom!). I do like to cook, and I enjoy the satisfaction of making my dinner. I just didn’t have the time or the energy.
In the weeks since going back to work I’ve developed a new normal. And I’m developing a new schedule and new routines, and I’m trying to eat healthier and lose some of the baby weight, so I meal planned this week and hit the grocery store. After the baby slept I went into the kitchen and lost myself in the rhythmic chopping of carrots, the soothing stirring of potatoes, and the crispy browning of meat. I made Shepherd’s Pie (the Weight Watchers version, with ground turkey. Womp womp.) in honor of Pi day.
When my husband came home he opened the refrigerator and remarked, “Now this is a good looking fridge.” Strawberries, blueberries, corned beef (we’re a good Irish household, after all), yogurt. We’re set for success this week. All because I spent an hour and a half in the grocery store.