Domestication... makes it happen.

Actually, I think it's "Cooperation makes it happen," a song from my childhood, whether from a kids TV show from the 90s or my mom just making it up so we would stop being especially difficult children. I can't recall it actually making that much of an impression on me as a kid but somehow it's taking up space in my memory bank and will probably prevent me from remembering something important in the future. But I digress..

When I first got married, I recall asking my husband, Aaron, if he felt any different now that we were finally living together and doing married stuff that married people do. For the most part, he said that he felt the same but also better. Sure, it was nice not having to drive to my not-so-awesome apartment late at night, just to snuggle in a cold bed with an emotionally needy cat. But I couldn't help but wonder when the effects of saying "I do" would finally start becoming more real. It wasn't until recently, when time normally wasted on Facebook resulted in discovering meal planning, that I realized how much growing up was in store for me.

Thanks to the rational outline that I found on the Passionate Homemaking website (try the search bar for "menu planning") and the collection of home recipes from my wonderful mother in-law, I learned what it meant to be in my mom's shoes. This came just in time, as I noticed I had been slightly starving my poor Aaron (quite opposite of his hopes of getting some meat on his bones in our first year of marriage). Plus with a little one on the way and two hungry roommates I could use as guinea pigs, I figured I should learn how to cook...and soon.

Where all this stemmed from:

I had been finding myself with no idea what to eat by the time I got home from a busy work day, and almost no ingredients nor skill to throw something together that would taste somewhat edible. This turned into stressful evenings of feeling like a failure to provide food for my family and watching them either eat nothing or settle for box after box of pizza, wings....and beer.

After looking through about a dozen recipes that had been "family tested and approved" by Aaron, I sketched out which days would be blessed by what meal. Once I got the hang of cooking the different dinners, shopping for ingredients became easier and less stressful (as long as it wasn't a Sunday afternoon at Wegmans. Read: complete nightmare). It also became more convenient when I would buy double of what I needed just in case wednesday night became "bro night" without my prior knowledge.

Before I was married, I only had to worry about feeding myself most of the time, which on the "poor college graduate diet," wasn't too complicated or varied. Now I have more responsibility and expectations as a married lady- and as a result more mouths to feed. It turns out that I am pretty good at reading and repeating recipes, which is nice because I don't think I have the heart or the energy to stand failure in the kitchen at the moment. This is quite the accomplishment, considering Aaron met me while I was on a strict Pop-tarts, instant oatmeal, and Twix bar diet during my last year at college! That being said, he was well aware of my culinary skills and time management. Which reminds me that I should probably stop blogging and start getting some grub ready for my hungry boys and baby belly :)