Chicken Popeye: a taste sensation

You know how it is. We all work so hard to be the best parents we can be. And then one of our little darlings shoots it all in the ass, without batting so much as an adorable eyelash.

Food is kind of my mommy thing. Preparing it, that is. I work hard to make most of our meals from scratch, to make sure the kids get healthy, yummy food. For some reason I feel like it's important that the kids understand that food does not (necessarily) come out of a box from the freezer case. Just a thing I have. I don't know why.

However, I'm not above dishing up some deee-lish Kraft mac-n-cheese. Or a frozen pizza. Jensen is particularly fond of anything (anything!) made with cream of mushroom soup. Hamburger Helper was rejected across the board, though. In any case, there is definitely a time and a place for artificial flavor and preservatives.

Last night, for instance.

Jeff was on-call for 48 of the past 72 hours, meaning he had to stay at the hospital (he kindly provides anesthesia to people who are having surgery, or having babies, or having colonoscopies). The kids and I held down the fort. It was a fun weekend, but by dinnertime last night, I'd had it. It's just really hard to whip up a meal with two cabin-feverish big boys (it rained a lot this weekend) and a yelling baby. So, into the freezer I foraged.

Mmmmm. Chicken pot pies. The kids marveled at them-- it was their first experience with this delicacy. It's a pie... for dinner!

They raved. They gobbled. They wiped them out in about two minutes flat.

Jensen: "Mom, can we have these for dinner every night? Can I have another? This is the best meal ever!"

Evan: "Mommy, these are too good. I want them tomorrow day. I love Chicken Popeye!!!"

Hmmm. Kinda makes a two-hour lasagna seem superfluous, doesn't it?