Freezer Meals... and Freezer Fiascos

I vividly remember sitting in a booth at the pizza place in our local shopping mall, marveling at how precisely my daughter, who was now able to sit unsupported in a high chair, used her thumb and index finger to place little pieces of breadstick into her mouth.  I was positively amazed by just how much she had learned in 9 months, and like every first-time mom, I felt like each day brought a new milestone worth recording in the baby book.  The sleepy little newborn who had fit so snugly in the crook of my arm had transformed, seemingly overnight, into a what was beginning to resemble a little human, almost a miniature adult.

Up and until this point, Eric and I had remained quiet on our plans for Cave Baby 2.0, primarily because we continued to flip-flop on the topic.  You see, in terms of birth order, Eric is nestled in between two sisters:  Emily, Eric's older sister, is 19 months older than he, while Erin, Eric's younger sister, is a mere 15 months younger than Eric (yes, all the Cave kids have names beginning with the letter "E."  And no, we're not doing the same thing with the letter "M.").  Anyway, the skinny of it is that those first three Cave children were born in a time span of less than 3 years!  I'm exhausted just writing that sentence; I can't fathom how my mother-in-law managed "three under three" at the young age of twenty.  I on the other hand, am 4.5 years older than my only sibling, a sister.  So while Eric was lobbying for the chaos of kids close together in age, I was firmly planted in the "Perfectly Spaced Children" camp, where kids are planned for and saved for before that first cell even thinks about dividing.

Yet, secretly, as I dined with my daughter that day at the pizza parlor, I was starting to get the itch.  Her first onesies and sleep sacks had been packed away for months, she was eating baby food and finger foods like a champ, and her newfound mode of transportation, crawling, brought about in me more cheers of applause than it did tears and sniffles.  I was thoroughly enjoying watching my little one grow & learn, and truth be told, I didn't miss the demands of an infant--night feedings, sour spit up down my back, liquid poo for the 4th time in an hour.....

In hindsight, what I think I was discovering in my near-toddler, was that although she needed more of my undivided attention in order to curb her consumption houseplant dirt, in some ways, life truly was getting easier.  We could run errands without even once hurdling ourselves into the back of the van to nurse; we could plan a day trip around a nap schedule that had become fairly predictable; and we could even enjoy a quick bite of pizza and breadsticks without the hassle of baby food jars, feeding spoons, and bibs.  And as tempting as it was to let out a giant sigh of relief for our newfound mobility, I recognized that unless we sped up the baby-making timetable, I'd get awfully content with my older, more totable child.

I'm a quick decision maker (some... namely my mother, would use the word impulsive or hasty, but I like to steer clear of words that make me sound like a total idiot).  I drove home from the pizza parlor, called my husband at work, and told him I was ready for our second baby.  It truly was a a decision that came to me just that quickly.  And when I think about it, I'd have to say that my very best... and very worst... decisions are typically more the result of lightbulb-type moments than carefully plotted and calculated determinations.  But Eric, who is a tad less adventuresome (think Friday night Bingo at the nursing home.... then tone it down a few notches), wasn't 100% ready to commit, citing something about his spontaneous, foolhardy wife who may change her mind in the next 60 seconds ;)  Regardless, we ultimately came to the conclusion that while we were open to another little Cave-lette, we'd allow God to pick his or her perfect timing.....

... A month later, I found out I was pregnant :)

While I may be more relaxed and carefree than my even-keeled hubby, when it comes to planning and scheduling, I'm your gal!  In high school, I was the girl who kept a laminated copy of her schedule firmly affixed to the inside of her locker... with cute, matching magnets, naturally.  While we're on the topic of confessions, I also stashed a spare toothbrush, wet wipes, and a forbidden bag cough drops in that aforementioned locker.  Just so you're not left guessing, I didn't exactly run with the popular crowd :)

So all this obsessive compulsive backstory is to legitimize the fact that at the end of the month when it came time to find out if a family expansion was in our immediate future, I was armed to the teeth with every early pregnancy test on the market.  Unfortunately, all came back negative.  I knew we couldn't afford to whittle away our life savings on pregnancy tests, so in a last ditch effort, I stopped at Dollar General to pick up just one more, this time a cheap-o generic test, and what do you know?!?!  Positive!

Cloud nine lasted roughly 42 minutes.  In the midst of the excitement, our daughter came down with a horrible head cold... which kept us wide awake two nights staving off a fever... which morphed into an ear infection... which had us at Saturday walk-in hours at the doctor's office... which landed us a prescription of Penicillin... which my daughter was allergic to... which put as back in the doctor's office, puffy-faced and with hives.  Oh yes, of course I was ready for a second baby!  I remember praying one night for confirmation that God hadn't, in fact, made a mistake with this new little one on board.  Considering that as I write this, I'm 22 weeks along with a healthy baby boy, I'd say I have my answer :)

But all of this is really just preface (albeit, a very long-winded preface) to the fact that from the moment I saw two pink lines, I was full-bore into organizing and nesting.  Truth be told, I'm probably a perpetual "nester."  I may never actually dust the window treatments or sweep out no man's land underneath the oven, but on rainy days, I rearrange the Tupperware just for kicks, have totes and bins for every person, project, and pastime under the sun, and am on a first-name basis with the fine folks at Goodwill, where I haul all sorts of clutter almost monthly.  If there is a mental illness that's diametrically opposed to hoarding, I'm most likely up to bat for it.  There are few things I hate more than superfluous "stuff."  By the way, if you haven't listened to George Carlin's skit on "stuff," I'd highly recommend it :)

And while we're on the topic of "Things Sara Hates," I also can't stand cooking, largely because a meal that's taken 2 hours to prepare will be scarfed down in 15 minutes, and then this less than happy housewife is left with 2 more hours of clean-up.  How is that fun????

We also don't have a dishwasher, something else I hate.  It's on the top of my wish list for my dream mansion, but if that doesn't come to fruition, I'm banking on teenage children who won't be going anywhere most school nights because I also hate the idea (and the price tag) of kids in 15 extracurricular activities per semester.  Yep, we'll be "those" parents who prevent their children from reaching their full potential because they're not signed up for underwater basket weaving this year ;)

Any-who, back to Sara's list of most hated household items.  Next up, our kitchen sink.  Quite literally, our sink runneth over with dishes at least twice a day (because remember, no dishwasher), so most evenings I scheme exactly how to pull off a mediocre meal using the fewest pots, pans, and utensils humanly possible, which is why I'm often tempted to put the "Cup O Soup," you know, the ones in the styrofoam containers, on the dinner rotation.  To top it off, the faucet on this sink really needs to be replaced, as it sprays as much water on the countertop as it actually manages to put in the sink.  Truly, I could wash dishes and Eric could stand in the kitchen and get a shower all at the same time.  Not sure how this would go over with the neighbors whose living room window stares right into our kitchen, but it's good to know we have options for bathing, while providing the neighbors options for free entertainment :)  Truth is though, both Eric and myself have a mean cheap streak, so until the faucet bites the dust, we'll refrain from biting the bullet and purchasing a new one.

And if there is one thing I hate more than actually spending any measurable time in the kitchen, it's pulling off dinner, clean-up, and dishwashing with a newborn.  Poor Eric feasted on his share of Little Caesar's Hot & Readys in the weeks following Margo's arrival.  And like I said, we're cheap, so I can't help but feel a little guilty about all the money we poured into that extra-nutritious endeavor.... although all this talk of Little Caesar's and now I could definitely go for some Crazy Bread, which is a nice change of pace from my typical 9pm Big Mac craving.  Shhhhh, don't tell my doctor ;)

Anyway, this time around, I vowed to be more prepared where menu-planning is concerned.  Last Christmas, my parents bought us a brand new stand-up freezer.  And on top of that, they gifted us roughly 100 pounds of beef-- steaks, roasts, hamburger, you name it  (if you're vegetarian, just go ahead and stop reading now; it only gets uglier).  We had been slowly but surely plowing our way through the freezer, feasting, sometimes gluttonously so, on some of the best red meat we had ever tasted.  By early summer, we had made a dent but were still up to our eyebrows in hamburger.  So my grand plan was to use it up in the way of freezer meals that I could make pre-baby and pull out once he arrives.... and look like a total organizational and domestic genius in the process.  Easy enough, right???

I must have been 10 or 11 weeks pregnant (read:  tired, bloated, and crabby) when Indiana turned into a barren desert wasteland-- 100 degree temperatures and no rain for days and days and days on end.  Like bugs that scatter at the slightest glimpse of daylight, we avoided the great outdoors at any cost, keeping cool inside with the blinds shut and the AC cranked.  However, occasionally we'd venture out to hide underneath someone else's tree stump... I mean, visit someone else's house.  On one particular scorching afternoon, Margo & I had made the blazing trek to the van in the garage, when I noticed a small pool of what looked to be gasoline or oil.  Figuring Eric had been tinkering around, Home Improvement style, with the lawn mower or weed eater, I didn't give it much thought... until I noticed that the pool of "oil" seemed to originate beneath our 7-month old freezer.  Upon closer investigation with Margo, you guessed it... our freezer had quit without warning, leaving several dozen pounds of beef completely thawed and rotting before my eyes.  It would have been a most inopportune time to mention starving children in Africa.

The first phone call I made was to my mother, who is experienced in just about every small domestic disaster, including sewage backups, basement sump pump floods, termite invasions... and freezer meltdowns.  Long story short, our freezer was still covered under the manufacturer's warranty, thankfully, but the beef we lost, stinky and now attracting maggots (lucky us), would not be compensated (it's still a sore subject with Eric, and I'd highly recommend not bringing it up). :)

But when it comes to making myself look good,  I'll stop at no cost!  So once our replacement freezer was delivered and installed, it was back to "Operation Domestic Goddess," in which I meticulously scoured recipe books, threw together a rather impressive grocery list, and purchased all sorts of tin pans and plastic bags that would not only get the job done, but would also make make my freezer an award-winning piece of organizational art. :)

By the time I had reached my second trimester, I had devised a solid Plan A-- pick one day a week, and start cooking as soon as Margo went down for a nap, which if calculated correctly, would allow me to prepare one recipe (two or three times over) from start to finish on any given cooking day.  It was a reasonable goal.  And on the morning of  Day #1, I even took Margo to a play date just to ensure that she'd be good and sleepy once we hit go-time.  What I did not anticipate, however, was a post-play date diaper change in the mini van which left Margo, myself, and the van carpet covered in urine.  Stuffing a screaming squirmy (at this point near-naked) child into a car seat isn't exactly my idea of an ideal morning, especially upon realizing we'd left the "silencer," Margo's pacifier, at home.  Frazzled, I quickly closed the sliding door that contained the beast my daughter, heaved my ever-expanding bod into the driver's seat.... only to crush with the weight of my colossal caboose the large McDonald's iced tea I'd temporarily placed in the seat.  So now both of our bottoms were soggy, but thank heavens for the pregnancy-induced, insulating whale blubber which was helping to stave off hypothermia ;)

We got home & cleaned up, and Margo went right down for her nap.  You know the old saying, "At first you don't succeed, try, try again?"  Yeah, that's definitely not me.  I'd say I'm more of a believer in "At first you don't succeed, get a bowl of ice cream and determine just how much you can spend at Kohl's while still managing to stay off 'budget radar' with the husband." ;)

Needless to say, things just weren't coming together.  A few days of sulking and a lot of McDonald's hash browns later, I was ready to give it another go.  My mother-in-law volunteered her 11 year old daughter to come help with Margo while I cooked.  And I should have known that would incite WWIII among the other children, so "Operation Domestic Goddess" quickly turned into "Make a Freezer Meal while Giving a Cave Kid a Chance to Crack an Egg or Two."  I'm happy to say that a month later, I've successfully produced four different freezer dinners-- 3 meat loaves, 2 quiches, 3 shepherd's pies, and 2 chicken stuffing casseroles. I think that's deserving of a "You Go, Girl!" if I do say so, myself :)  And just in case you were wondering, the Cave children are good for about 15 minutes of help in the kitchen before determining that playing with their niece is far more entertaining than browning chicken.

My goal is to keep this up for 6 more painstaking weeks, which means I'll have 10 different recipes, over 30 meals frozen and ready to go when baby makes his grand arrival!  But it should be noted, however, all of that is contingent on freezer function, dirty dish pile up, iced tea management.... and how often Eric wants to shower in the kitchen ;)