Shhhhhh. The baby is sleeping. Finally. The husband had the audacity to leave our home office and get whisked away to the Big Apple on a business trip for three whole days taking my dutiful put-baby-down-for-nap  and wake-baby-up-from-nap partner, leaving me the bad guy.

This guy also took my daily dose of grown up as it’s just me and baby in the house…alone. Albeit, I am glad to take a break from our most frequent conversation topic:

Josh: Hey, his diaper needs to be changed.

…

Josh: Then I want him back.

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This week has been brutally cold and windy. Which makes me sad, very sad. Winter has been great — it brought the biggest cheese ever — yet I’m ready for it to be over. I reach this point every January, after the holidays have gone, and there is no lingering celebrations with family or friends trying to drag out the merriment for as long as possible, and the point has been reached today. I’m done. There is nothing left to look forward to in the remaining winter weeks, except my four year anniversary — and really the husband and I have discussed picking a totally random day, like May 19th or October 8th or another day where it is not hard to come by a dinner reservation, or enjoy one anothers company in the middle of a crowd as we just had to pick, ahem, I had to pick the day of hearts and roses to get hitched.

Spring is now in the forefront of my mind, a time that will bring actually ripe fruits and vegetables instead of the hot house and imported varieties from other countries. But with spring comes color, flower buds that eventually turn vibrant yellow, or tiny green sprouts of grass that shoot up into a thick carpet. And the sun, it melts the gray filled days of a dead and unappealing winter away.

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This is a celebration people. We have survived the first month, err, I should say our baby has survived. And frankly in honor of our success, the baby’s well being and my current chocolate chip cookie obsession what better way to say thank gawd than these. It was something I was content keeping to myself, I know you all don’t need another recipe for something that is pretty much the same thing over and over — butter, brown sugar, flour, some eggs and chocolate chips. To be honest, to say one recipe is superior to another is something I have scoffed at for years, until now. It wasn’t until I made these, err, someone made these for me that the marathon of *cough* a dozen cookies for breakfast *cough* *cough* came about.

Not only was I blown away by the ratio of chocolate chip to cookie — I’m pretty sure David Leite was trying to find a way to shovel in chocolate chips without having to eat them directly from the bag while maintaining some level of sophistication — but the fact that the chips were still gooey and soft and melty four days later. Seriously. Then my friend gave me the recipe and accompanying dissertation and I, ashamedly, put it aside to pull out the back up of pillsbury I’ve kept on hand since my third trimester cravings.

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Yesterday was a sad, devastatingly upsetting day in our house, well, at least for me it was. This kid, who let us take a peek at some blue eyes he likes to hoard under his eyelids, has grown out of his newborn-sized clothing. (I will give you a moment to grab a tissue box and think of something encouragingly sweet to comfort me with. Also, chocolate chip cookies would be nice). After folding tiny onesies and stretchy pants my foot couldn’t even fit into if it wanted, I have now had to graduate my quickly growing kid into the next size up (and really, this should have been done a week ago, but I slightly enjoyed — to my kid’s dismay every time I had to dress him — the struggle to snap a cute fox onesie on him, and the elephant, oh and the monkey one and the I am handsome one while I still could squeeze him into it).

And thus dinner was comfort food. Something mama could drown her sorrows in as my kid has already thrown my back out just from feeding him — yes, he is that heavy already. Plus my husband finally joined in on the twitter front, and I was not his first follow…more like his seventeenth. 17! Marrying each other, living together, having a baby together, yes, it has all been good. But following me on twitter — it’s like I asked you to chop off a finger*.

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Well folks, it’s officially 2012 and my ubber gracious and fantastic friends have deemed me capable enough to get back into the kitchen without the aid of their promised meals. (Yes, I brought it on myself, really.) But for the past two and a half weeks I have been amazed at all the delicious meals Josh and I have chowed down on, most notably a creamy parmesan shrimp risotto brought to us last week and something I have not stopped thinking about since.

Now, I don’t believe in giving up anything one enjoys, especially if it involves cheese, but because I have been thrown to the sharks of the nightly ritual of dinner, I decided to start the New Year and its night-time meal with risotto. I know, I know three days after Resolution Day is not the best time to bring up creamy, cheesy, bacon-sprinkled rice dishes, but be thankful that I decided the chocolate chip cookie kick — more like marathon — I have been on has not yet shown up on these pages (as I’m sure any day now I will crack and bake up a batch and thus cause you to stumble over warm, gooey, slightly melted chocolate chip studded cookies).

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