Cooking -Tacos de Pavo en el Infierno

I love to cook. But making dinner is no longer about leisurely preparing a culinary bounty built on a foundation of health, love and togetherness. It's war, baby. Rather, it's war...with my baby. 

So here's a play by play for those of you who need a field manual on putting something edible on the table when you have a clingy 18 month old. Pay attention. It's gonna get ugly.

Tacos de Pavo en el Infierno (Turkey Tacos in Hell)

Ingredients

Turkey                                 Baby Crack 

Taco Shells                        Lettuce

Random Spices                 Salsa

Cheese                                Whatever Else I Can Find

1. Administer the baby crack.

2. Run to the kitchen and throw shit into a pan for the side dish. Yes, I know I'm crazy for suggesting a side dish but let's blame it on my OCD. I cannot have a meal without a side dish. Here's a fideo-ish thingy which is basically pasta with tomato sauce.  

3.Saute pasta in some oil. Burn your finger as usual but remember that nothing hurts more than the mental assault that will be inflicted in just a few minutes.

4. Add tomato sauce, seasonings, water and perspiration. Bring to boil and then simmer for 13 minutes. 

5. Steel yourself because here it comes. 

He has found you and he is not happy. You have abandoned him and left him to fend for himself in cruel, harsh world. What kind of mother are you? Why is dinner more important than him? Crying, demands to "hold you," and tantrums ensue. 

6. Take him back to the baby crack and slip away the minute he is consumed by the psychotropic images. 

7. Time to start the taco meat. Pull out the one and only real talent you possess in life. 

I can chop an onion like nobody's business. 

8. Throw the onion and the meat and the seasonings into a pan.

9. Look at your spice cabinet and reflect for a moment.

My Spice Cabinet

Barefoot Contessa's Spice Drawer

Shed one tear and move on.

10. Administer second level of defense when you hear the next round of whimpering.

11. Under the stress of the screaming, you drop your spatula on the floor. You waste a whole five seconds wondering just how unsanitary it would be to keep on using it. You decide not to risk it since you've already dealt with baby vomit once this week. 

12. Now thank the baby Jesus and Target for pre-shredded cheese.

13.  Since the show has now ended, begin throwing snacks at the tiny beast and hope that they won't fill him up so much that he won't sit through at least part of dinner.

14. Give your spouse dagger eyes because he just walked through the door at 6:08 and he was supposed to be home at 6:00.  

15. Put dinner on the table but get up at least five times for drinks, napkins, extra utensils, wipes and Tylenol for your splitting headache. 

16. Realize there is a silver lining...

One child has survived this evening without deep emotional scars. (And look! There's even a vegetable on her plate! Where did that come from?) 

Bon appetit!