Tomato Sauce

As I was thawing out tomato sauce for dinner, I noticed the date on the bag; September 16. Abigail was born August 19, which means this was from the batch I made when she was less than a month old. I rolled my eyes at myself. What was I thinking, chopping and simmering 20 lbs of tomatoes into sauce when I was a brand new stay-at-home-mom with a brand new baby? I remember that day well, too, how I felt so put together as Elizabeth and I sat on a blanket in the living room, ripping up a bowl full of basil from the garden while Abigail did tummy time next to me. “THIS is the life I want to live!” I thought.

And how things fell apart soon after, how it was such a hot fussy chore to get everything done, and how when my husband arrived home many hours later I was in despair because I thought the sauce was terrible, and I'd worked so hard all day to make a pot of acidic mess. (It wasn't. It just needed a meeting with the immersion blender.)

As the sauce defrosted on the stove last night, and that wonderful fresh tomato and basil smell wafted up to me, I was glad I had made it. I thought about how quick I am to discount my own hard work. “That was silly; what was I thinking; why did I push so hard?” Yes, I also thought that I could have been doing a little less, maybe spent more time just enjoying my new baby who is already so big. But I also recognized that I should be proud of what I have done. As a stay-at-home mom, there are no awards, no bonuses, no performance measures to meet. I rarely hear a thank-you from anyone other than my husband, who has been a stay-at-home parent himself. So sometimes it's good to enjoy the tomato sauce and say, “I don't know how I did that, but I did, and it is a tasty treat on this cold March day.”