Cilantro Lime Chicken. Black bean taco soup. Chicken Cacciatore. I’ll be honest in admitting I really don’t know what any of these things are, other than that they contain chicken. And beans. But I can tell you this much: they smell delicious.
And, for some reason I didn’t really understand at first, they were all happening at once in the kitchen of my dear forever home tonight. My forever parents danced the kind of dance they only do in the kitchen, as dad chopped onions and mom chopped peppers. They sliced and diced and chopped and pureed. They browned and sauteed and baked.
At one point (only once) dad cynically asked “why are we doing this again?”
I didn’t know why, but I liked it. Carter and I joined the dancing as best we could, picking up various scraps that fell to the floor. I’ve trained him to know these things come to me, so he brought me all kinds of delicious morsels, like beans and peppers and browned taco meat. Again I found myself reveling in the perfection of the team we make.
Then I realized that we weren’t really even the full extent of the team. We were the grounds clean up crew. Mom and dad were part of the team, too, cooking up all these delicious things for (as I learned later) after baby no. 2 arrives. Suddenly it made perfect sense why we were all parading around the kitchen creating all sorts of deliciousness.
This is another part of the baby preparation. This is nesting, from the ground up. And today I got to participate. I got to help in my own (albeit small) way. I got to be part of the team.
It doesn’t matter to me what all those fancy recipe names mean. Or what they entail. What matters is today I was part of something. Today I helped get the forever home ready for the baby. Today I was part of the team.