A Dutch Baby... and an Idaho Baby

So it turns out everything they tell you in health class as a kid is true. Boy meets girl, girl thinks, "This guy, huh?". Boy graduates and moves away, girl moves to Kentucky. They both move to Idaho and BAM—a baby on the way. 

Isn't that how the story goes? Well, it seems to be for us. 

Shortly after making this Dutch Baby for my in-laws this past summer we found out we were having an Idaho Baby—who we've been lovingly calling Spud—expected to arrive this Spring. With an estimated due date of April 1, I hope this kid is half the joker his expected birth date dictates he should be.

For those of you who are already parents, you may or may not have had the same reaction to your newfound title that I did. Something like, "Holy S#!&." Mixed with thoughts of happiness and fear and bring on the extra cake.

I took the test and saw that bright, bold plus sign while my mom was in town visiting—and my husband was off climbing something. It was so hard waiting to tell him, but the look of happiness and fear and bring on the extra beer were priceless once I finally got to break the news.

And like any self-respecting mama-to-be in 2016, I created a Pinterest board and signed up for pregnancy apps, so I could get weekly updates on our growing tater.

Real talk? This pregnancy has been a little rough. I felt like I was in a row boat on the high seas for the first 18 weeks and have been constantly comparing my "bump" (or gut, as I like to call it) to other women who don't look like they're having sextuplets.

Pregnancy so often seems to be described in precious terms, like glowing (read: sweating like a hog) and preggo. And the apps, while helpful, compare the growth of your kid to some cutesy piece of fruit. It must look like a damn produce section in there.

Why don't they ever compare my baby's size to something I can relate to—like the TV remote, or a chicken finger? Currently, at 22 weeks, this baby is the size of a mango—AWWWWWW.

Now, don't get me wrong, in between the bouts of crying and nightmares of having to give birth in a filthy public bathroom (thank you, hormones), I get unbelievably excited that I am going to get to help shape the life of this little boy. Maybe baby registries should let you register for future therapy funds... because as one of my friends said to me, half-jokingly, when I expressed my fear about being bad at parenting, "You will be."

There it was. The honesty I craved. He told me everyone is bad at first... not in the way where you leave your new baby with a hatchet and tell him to get to chopping that wood if he wants to keep warm; but in the way that no one really knows what they're doing and with love and patience, and a good sense of humor, we'll eventually figure it out.

Well, here's to our Spud, our growing family, and years of future birthday cakes and lazy weekend breakfasts like this fluffy Dutch baby— hopefully this kid likes pancakes.


3 eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup 2% or whole milk
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
1/2 cup sugar
juice from one lemon

Preheat your oven to 425.  Place eggs, flour, milk, sugar, and cinnamon in a blender and blend until smooth. Place butter in a 10-inch skillet (I used cast iron) and place in the oven to melt. Watch carefully, and remove the skillet from the oven just as the butter has finished melting. Pour batter in return hot pan to the oven. Bake for 20 minutes, until the pancake is puffed up. Reduce your oven temperature to 300 and continue baking for five additional minutes.

To make the blueberry sauce, combine blueberries, sugar, and lemon juice in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir gently and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about five minutes, or until the sauce has begun to thicken.