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When I was about to have Fiona two years ago, I did something I considered quite daring: I asked for help for my meal making in that last month. I was as huge as a heifer, my right leg perpetually swollen, everyone telling me to have a seat, but I still needed my family fed….
My family’s tomato soup episode was one of those final moments when I knew we were in trouble at the table. I had heard the husband strike a bargain with our 7 year-old Picky-a-saurus. Whatever treat the child was requesting could be had after he ate and finished his cream of tomato soup. OK, the…
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