Like a thief in the night... ( potty words)

I'm sneaking a bowl of pasta. I'm a terrible mother.  I made cacio e pepe, as taught by Fabio.  You'll notice below I  have a picture of two Fabio's.

not this Fabio.

This Fabio

The Fabio on the left is the model and harlequin romance god. Well, to some. I don't really think he's all that attractive. Definitely not on my I'd do him list. The Fabio on the right is the chef, and while I probably wouldn't put myself out there for him either, he teaches cooking in a way that is simple and easy to understand. And I think he's a lot easier on the eyes than the blond Adonis wanna be on the left.



My 14 year old

how the hell is he 14 already?!

is required to follow a gluten free diet. To show our support, his stepfather and I are doing our best to follow it as well.  It's going to kill me.



Okay, probably not. I'll probably feel a shitton better when it's all said and done, as the current research ( and yeah, I'm aware a lot of it is people trying to blow smoke up my ass) indicates the removal of gluten from your diet will help with migraines ( check), autoimmune disorders ( check) , ADHD, and emotional outbursts/sensitivity.

But, I'm a pasta addict. I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed it. To function. Every day. I don't actually eat it every day but I do eat it pretty regularly.

Saturday night we had hamburgers for dinner. HUGE meltdown when he realized he couldn't have a bun. He was literally going to refuse to eat! The kid is skin and bones to begin with due to his metabolism and the months we've spent trying to figure out what was causing his stomach issues. I was PISSED!!!!  Like dude, really! I get that it's shitty you don't get to eat what you want, but you still have to eat the very expensive and really fucking good hamburger we made you. Minus the bun.  Would have put in a lettuce wrap but I forgot to buy lettuce. ( worst mother in the world remember?)  He wound up eating anyway, but initially only because his mother is some kind of bitch. Not because his bitchy mother's food was good. And it was damned good.

I was mad.

And since I didn't eat a bun in a show of parental solidarity, I got up at 5 am on Sunday morning and made some damned spaghetti.

And then I hid that shit. 

Man.