Last week, I went to see my doctor who I dearly love and would drop any of my friends to be her BFF. I think most women who have babies fall in love with their doctors. Clearly, I am no exception and seem to have fallen harder due to all the time I have spent with her. In fact, Lance is always telling me that I can’t keep having kids just to become friends with her. I’ve tried it, four kids, five miscarriages and she has yet to invite me over to her place. Well, there was that one time two years ago that while 8 months pregnant I picked up bamboo at her house so I could have the kids make a fort with it. It was her suggestion that I use it for the boys, and I was all, “where do you live” as if I didn’t already know from previous stalking. Her house is lovely, not that I was invited inside.

I feel like we have this connection, but maybe that comes from having someone looking at your most private part that isn’t your spouse. So, the point of this besides making me sound like a freak who is in love with her doctor is I was talking to my doctor and asking about her daughter who is home from college. She proceeds to tell me that despite her busy schedule like leaving for work at 6 in the morning and being head of this and that in the hospital, she cooks at least three days during the week, plus the weekends. Like real meals. Fancy meals. She told me some of her menus and how much her daughter has missed her cooking while away at school. I was completely impressed and used this opportunity to invite myself over for dinner. She says anytime, but what does that mean? Am I getting a real invite soon? Maybe if I have another baby she will bring me a meal? Now, that’s an idea!

Okay, so the real point of this post was that I was so inspired by her cooking that I actually made a real meal tonight. Chicken piccata, roasted potatoes and broccoli. I think my family could get used to me cooking again.