Friends Greet New Baby, And Boy, Can They Cook

Having delicious, nutritious and elegant meals appear effortlessly on our dinner table is a fantasy I often daydream. Recently, this is a daydream come true.
When I came home from the hospital carrying our beautiful new son, Matthew, I was greeted with the news that our evening meal would be brought over by a friend, Louise.
Sure enough, later that day Louise arrived carrying a large pot, followed by her children who were carrying containers of food.
"What do you have there?" I asked, licking my lips. "It's manicotti," Louise answered as she lifted the lid to show me. "It's all set - just keep it warm in the oven until you're ready to eat.
There's also salad here, Italian bread and some dessert."
When our family sat down to eat, we all agreed that having such a nice meal was a great welcome home for the new baby, even though he didn't have any of it.
The next day, we breakfasted on a fresh fruit salad and lunched on potato salad sent over by our neighbor, Jean. Dinner that evening turned into another banquet when my friend and neighbor, Kathy, and her children brought a roast beef dinner.
The following day turned out to be equally tasty when Julie arrived with a roasting pan filled with a pot roast and vegetables.
She also was accompanied by her children, who were carrying salad, wine and dessert.
This kind of treatment should have been enough to spoil me completely, but it didn't stop. Sue brought one of our favorite casseroles to put in the freezer and also a pan of sinful caramel
brownies.
Claudia brought an exotic crab salad lunch for me and cookies for John and the kids, which I helped eat.
Kerry, my former nursing student helper, now a nurse and a married lady, arrived from her home in Ravenna, NE., to see the baby and to lend a hand for a few days. She lugged in a container of kolaches that she and her mother had made for us.
Whenever any of the extended Cavanaugh family comes by to take the kids off my hands, they drop off some form of nutrition.
This morning, just when I was thinking this is the day I'll have to break down and cook, Cindi arrived at my door carrying a roaster full of stew.
I always knew I had good-hearted friends and family, and it sure is nice that they are all such good cooks.
Before I get too accustomed to all this pampering, (Maureen already has; yesterday she asked, "Whose turn is it to bring over dinner tonight?") I've decided I've got to take the cure. Which means I have to stop eating so grandly if I want to fit back into my clothes.
According to articles I've read in baby magazines, new mothers shouldn't be impatient. We should allow four to six months to regain our shapes.
Well, I think like the corporate executive's wife who had made eight moves in 13 years, just as I've had eight babies in 13 years.
When she moves into each new home, she doesn't know how long she will live there before moving again, so she figures she may as well redecorate right away and enjoy her surroundings. I feel the same way about being pregnant. I never know how long I'll be out of maternity clothes before I'll need them again, so after the baby comes I have to hurry and shape up.
That's my plan for this week and it should work – unless someone brings over more brownies. Don't you think it would be rude if I didn't help eat them?
September 17, 1986