This is a sight I never, ever thought I would see again:
During this stage of my life, my cupboards should be overflowing with grown-up foods and gourmet spices. I should have a well-stocked bar and wine cooler. Frozen hors d’oeuvres for spontaneous gatherings. Instead I have baby food. A mammoth high-chair will rest in my “bar” area. Peek inside my freezer and you’ll see bags of breast milk instead of puff pastries.
However, instead of listening to chatty, opinionated adults, I hear baby belly laughs. Baby food is considerably less expensive than Grey Goose or Disaronno. And I never, ever have to put on mascara or style my hair to hang out with Maya.
Maybe baby food isn’t so bad after all.