Food Buzz


Because maybe you do care what I had for lunch...

Monday, December 05, 2005

Roast chicken with rosemary sweet potatoes



Today I made my usual roast chicken. This time instead of a rack I roasted it on two quartered sweet potatoes and several sprigs of rosemary. This is my second-most favorite way to have sweet potatoes, and I owe the idea to Bryan Waterman.

This weekend Jasper got sick. It started with some congestion on Saturday, but being the self-centered parents that we are we dragged him out in the cold and wind anyway. There were a few shows we wanted to see in Chelsea and then an opening at the Emily Fisher Landau Center. Jasper liked the theme of the show, animals. And everyone there was so sweet to him. Of course, everyone is always sweet at EFL; it's a gorgeous, incredibly well-funded temple to contemporary art, and they seem thrilled whenever people make the journey out to Queens.

Ms. Landau herself was there, holding court in the front lobby with a big glass of red wine and smoking away, as is her perogative, as the hostess and author of the feast.

Jasper was uncharacteristically subdued on the ride home and by morning he had a fever. I spent all of Sunday at his bedside literally nursing him back to health. I think he spent more time latched on than not, napping for 15-30 minutes at a time. He was so pitiful, the little guy, feverish and weepy.

It reminded me a lot of when Jasper was a newborn and I spent my days and nights with him glued to my body, at times barely able to even feed myself the meals Lane would bring me. At the end of the day when I finally got to break away to shower and write an e-mail I marveled that I'd lived this way for three months. How did I do it?

I was in love, that's how. You do crazy things when you're infatuated with someone. I'm still completely smitten.

During our sick day I managed to read this beautiful essay about a mother who is trying to wean her children from their seemingly age-inappropriate physical affection. One of the surprises for me about motherhood is how utterly physical it is. It never occurred to me that I would use my body so much to care for my son. For that matter, it never occurred to me that I would breastfeed this long. But I think I’ve become addicted to cuddling his sweet little body even as I yearn to have my body back to myself. Time after time I give in to Jasper’s demands because I know someday they’ll end. As it is my little baby is disappearing every day, replaced by this increasingly independent little boy.

2 comments:

shaunamama said...

The dinner sounds so yummy! My hubby is so tired of chicken right now, but maybe I'll try it when his folks come for their visit in two weeks. Thanks for the idea!

I too breastfed my son until he was well over a year old. I wish I could have with my daughter, but she was so fiercely independent even from birth, I took what I could get...six way too short months. The time goes by so quickly and they start needing you for other things like,"Mom? Will you open this bottle of soda for me?" Breastfeeding it's not, but it is something. One day, the need for mom's stronger hands will be gone too with the growth of their own muscles and I will be lucky to get a hug in passing as they bound out the door to drive somewhere. For now I take all the snuggles I can squeeze in. My son is all too happy to snuggle. My daughter, being as independent as she is, I have to take every tiny moment she gives me.

I remember the advice people gave me when I was pregnant with my daughter...."Hold on to the little moments and enjoy every single moment, because they grow up too fast." I knew they were right. But no one can prepare you for the exact speed of it all. It's mindblowing to say the least.

Sending you warm thoughts. Hugs to you and to that little sweetie. He's adorable, by the way!!

Prof. B. Waterman said...

i'm glad to have been of service at some unremembered moment in the past, though it's true i love sweet potatoes, rosemary, and chicken drippings.

so imagine this: one of my babies is 11. the other is 9. and yet that feeling that they're growing independent, separating, growing up has been there almost since they could walk and feed themselves and get mad at me if i crossed them. i imagine it will last a long long time.