Blazing tarts

I had another baking urge the other day. 

The first time I ever cooked for my husband, I made him a steak pie and it is one of those memories that gets bought up at random times; whilst watching TV, when in the car or sitting in the bath ' Boo, do remember that pie?!'  

My husband has called me 'Boo' since the first year we were together - I'm not sure why, but it just stuck. Anyway, as he's had to step up as nurse for the third time running, I thought I'd treat him. 

I made a steak pie filled with big chunks of beef., carrots and delicious herbs. I topped it with buttered pastry and it sunk quite tragically when I took it out of the oven but still, tasted delicious so it was a success! With pastry leftover, I decided to make some jam tarts for the twins - I mixed fresh berries with jam and without a steady hand to cut out pastry shapes to top them, I found a monkey shaped cutter and used that to decorate them. They looked incredibly random but were very tasty - especially warm- and the boys enjoyed one each day when coming home from nursery. After being in bed for the last few days, I felt like a good mum again! I'm no Mary Berry, but watch this space! 

I've been in bed the last few days due to exhaustion mostly - the third operation has seemed to drain my body of it's energy and I have intense nerve pain due to a stitch through the remaining bone where my coccyx was, which causes me to lie awake at night. It's incredibly frustrating. 

On the days that my husband is at work and the boys are at nursery; I'm stuck on the top floor of our house as I am unable to use the stairs without support. I banned a television from our bedroom for the entire time we have lived here, up until now, as being stuck on one floor can get very boring - I'm determined it will only be temporary though! (the television I mean - being stuck on one floor temporarily goes without saying!). My husband also packs me a cool box full of food and cold drinks on the days I am alone and a flask of hot water for my tea - it's incredibly sweet but feels very isolating and I don't even hear the front doorbell anymore as I've ignored it so much. 

My company on those days comes in the form of our cat, Blaze, who is a ragdoll breed and only a year old. There is a reason why they refer to ragdoll's as therapy cats; there are days I can't get out of bed, day's that I cry out of frustration and at the unfairness of going through this all over again (this isn't common - I try not to complain too much) and there are days where I just want some company. Blaze sits in bed with me, on me, beside me and makes his presence known with his extremely loud meow. Even though we bought him before we knew I'd be ill again, I'm so glad we did - we couldn't imagine our family now without him. 

When I am not rambling on here, being a part time mother or baking random treats I am making sure to remember that I take my recovery seriously. The first rule of recovering from a major operation is not to do too much too soon - your body is healing from the inside out - cells and tissue needing to fuse back together. Unfortunately I learnt this the hard way a year ago, when I returned to work after my honeymoon and had one of the most frightening experiences of my life in the middle of a busy train station..