Exactly one year ago today, I saw two lines. The pink  stripes glared at me, challenged me, petrified me. They thrust me into a life that I was sure I wasn’t ready for.  I looked down at the box of the pregnancy test.

“99% accurate!”

Lord have mercy.

How could I carry a life when I wasn’t even sure of my own?     

Jamie and I sunk down into the cool, iron chairs on my patio, listened to a faraway radio and stared at my belly, as if it would reveal something. We saw nothing. And, for a moment, I’m pretty sure we felt nothing.

Numb in the August heat.

A beer (for Jamie), an orange juice (for me) and a back-up test later, we were having a baby. In quick succession, I would also have my book on the shelves, go on a seven week-long book tour, get health insurance, plan a wedding & a (mini) honeymoon, swallow my first horse-pill-of-a-prenatal-vitamin and become a frequent shopper at ”BuyBuy Baby.”

And somewhere in there, I began to let go…just a little bit. I allowed myself to surrender to a plan that was much bigger than anything I could ever schedule in my blackberry, write on my calendar or plan out with my agent.

Two would become three. And that baby– and those two lines–would, somehow, point us in the right direction.

My shrimp and orzo salad is one of those cool, simple dishes destined for a day at the pool or an afternoon at the beach. Because I’m from the Gulf Coast (and vacationing at the beach right-this-very-minute), I’m always looking for any excuse to cook up our gorgeous, mild-yet-sweet Gulf shrimp. I toss them with every woman’s favorite salad cheese-feta-and add color with easy-to-chop or defrost ingredients like bell pepper and little French peas. Everything comes together with the simplest of vinaigrettes–lemon juice and olive oil.

(My niece, Shelby, and baby Parker enjoying pool time over the weekend in their matching ‘kinis.)

Shrimp & Orzo Salad

We snooze…

… and then we eat… Then, we help Mamma test out her Slow-Roasted Cherry Tomato Rigatoni recipe…

I lose myself smelling the top of her head, the nape of her neck. The “newborn scent” is utterly and unforgivably sweet–like the skin of a June peach. Everyone says that it’ll disappear after 3 months. I guess that’s the time when the freshness fades and the world sets in. City air, Mommy’s stress, the cumin-scented hallway begin to settle on the surface, never to leave.

But, for now, she’s the peach on our West Village block. Our little sack of sugar… Our chance to experience something–someone– that only requires kisses and food and sleep.

I want to write more but her little cheeks call. A little nibble and I’ll be back. I’ve actually been tip toe-ing back toward the stove, coming up with fast, delish recipes for all you harried, crazed, desperately-in-need-of-half-a-bottle-of-pinot-grigio moms. Slow- roasted cherry tomato rigatoni is on the menu. But I can’t do anything until after my bite of peach pie.

Both of us girls (me and my teeny tiny daughter, that is) want something sweet and creamy come midnight.

Unfortunately for Parker, she’s stuck with my milk. While I’ve heard it goes down easy and is the richest, most nutritious food for her newborn tummy, it can’t compare to Jamie’s latest kicked-up concoction: Whipped Banana Pudding. (Follow the link for recipe)

His cheffy secret? Pureeing and then whipping bananas into the pudding mixture. Each mouthful is a burst of fruit, vanilla and perfectly soft cookie.  

Mom and baby drift off into a blissful, satiated slumber…

Parker Lee Briscione

April 28th, 2009

10:47am 

7 Pounds, 14 Ounces

Light Brown Hair, Eyes-Yet-To-Be-Determined (though Mom thinks they’re hazel, just like Daddy’s)

New York, New York