It has been a week and a half now. Violet and I are adjusting to each other nicely. She is the typical newborn. Dreamy sleep most of the time. Ravenously hungry when awake. Able to destroy an entire outfit and blanket with one swift move of the bowels. I spend a lot of time doing laundry. Which means I spend a lot of time folding it. But boy can I multitask! One hand feeding Violet, the other folding onesies!
Jack is taking on the big brother roll well. He wants to help with everything, except for taking dirty diapers out to the trash. He makes sure to kiss her if he leaves and greets her when he arrives.
Van wants to be with Violet as much as possible. He wants to sit on my lap while she eats. He wants to get his diaper changed when she gets hers changed. And he wants to sit in the baby swing with her. The adjustment with him has been different than I thought it would be. He doesn't have a problem with her, just a problem with everyone else. "Don't mind me, I am just the mean mom."
Daddy Ethan loves her, of course. Ethan is incredibly helpful with her and slipped right back into Daddy-of-a-newborn roll well. Because he is so helpful, I am not suffering from lack of sleep and because of that, I am recovering well.
All last week, my mom was busy being my mom. Her theory is that if I am taken care of, I can then take care of my family. So my mom made sure I was able to rest and made sure my family and I were fed. She tidied, did laundry and filled my fridge and pantry with groceries. And if that wasn't enough, on Saturday she had her cleaning ladies come and make my home sparkle. I can't think of a better gift. All week long, she did exactly what every mom should do after her daughter has a new baby.
I didn't cook for a while and my mom and my husband took over for me. But eventually, I did want to get in the kitchen and make something- anything. Cooking is something I am familiar with. The kitchen is recognizable to me. While my post partum body is unfamiliar and my new infant schedule is foreign, my ability to create something in the kitchen isn't. So I sorted through my fridge and pantry and came up with this mid-morning snack. A toasted piece of bread slathered in a lemon herb butter made with fresh basil and fresh rosemary. Then its topped with fluffy, light scrambled eggs and fresh basil. Ultra satisfying and a bit of gourmet among the burp rags and baby bottles.
For the butter:
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 Tbsp chopped fresh herbs (I used basil and rosemary. Use whatever you want.)
1/2 tsp kosher salt
Zest of 1 lemon
In a medium bowl, combine all ingredients and stir well with a rubber scraper. Set aside.
For the eggs:
1/2 tsp kosher salt
A few grinds black pepper
Splash of water
1 Tbsp butter (not the herb butter)
2 pieces bread
Fresh basil, for garnish
In a medium bowl, combine eggs, salt, pepper and water. Whisk well, until eggs are smooth and combined. In a medium skillet over medium high heat, add butter. Once butter is melted and bubbly, pour in eggs. Scrape eggs away from the sides and bottom of the pan with a rubber scraper until eggs are no longer runny, about 1 minute.
Toast bread in the toaster and toast until golden. Spread lemon herb butter on the toast and scoop cooked eggs on top. Garnish with fresh basil.
Yields 2 servings
Rookie's Notes: I have a thing for compound butters lately. I have a bunch stored in my freezer and I use them on everything. Chipotle lime butter on corn. Garlic herb butter on French bread. Pesto butter on baked potatoes. You will have leftover lemon herb butter when you make this, but just keep it in the fridge or freezer and use it on anything and everything. Roast chicken, steamed vegetables, grilled steak, warm biscuits. It's good on anything.
Having kids and cooking is hard. Example. I am making the eggs and Van wants to watch. So I hold him on my hip and stir the eggs in the pan. And then he picks his nose and throws whatever came out of his nose into the eggs. So I had to toss the eggs out and start over again. Like I said, having kids and cooking is hard. But so entertaining.
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