I am now a stay-at-home mom. Well, we don't stay at home ALL the time - we go out for walks, to Starbucks, for groceries, to meet friends and to a variety of doctor appointments. I also still work on Friday afternoons and Saturday mornings.
But the staying-at-home-and-not-using-a-whole-lot-of-my-brain thing is quite an adjustment. So on Monday I decided I'd whip up an amazing dinner.
And I did: panko and garlic encrusted tilapia over rice with an onion and red wine vinegar butter sauce; coconut fried shrimp; broccoli; roasted carrots and radishes. It was phenomenal. Made up all the recipes myself.

Then on Tuesday I made up another recipe - I marinated some chicken for a few hours in soy sauce, red wine vinegar, chili peppers and salt. Then I tossed the chicken pieces in flour and fried them up nicely. Then I made a red wine sauce and tossed in some carrots, red peppers and basil. Then mixed in the chicken again. Served it over rice. Awesomeness.

But here's the MISTAKE part of it all. On Wednesday, Jon goes "ooh, I wonder what dinner will be tonight!" GULP.
Pizza from Target.
And tonight: breakfast -- omelets, hashbrowns and toast. Not so exciting.
Jon says my "streak" is over. I guess it was dumb to go all gung-ho two nights in a row. That creates expectations.
And I've realized that my days are WAY to un-planned to have expectations.