June 2017 - Give InKind

How To Befriend A Child Whose Parent Has Died of Cancer

The loss of a parent to cancer is devastating to the children they leave behind. Give InKind sat down with those directly impacted by the loss of a parent (now adults, recollecting) – and with those adults who have offered assistance to bereaved children who lost a parent to cancer.

Sarah Carlson lost her mother to cancer when she was a young adult. Says Sarah:

“My mother was the center of our family. Losing her when I was a young adult was devastating and continues to impact my life daily. Having her friends lend their time to just be with me, even in the most casual of ways – a walk, a dinner date, a hello note with a memory of my mother, was invaluable. It helped to make me feel closer to her and helped to make me feel like a female figure I could look up to was there if I needed them.”

Now a mother herself, Sarah regularly offers to help families in her community who are coping with similar loss. In fact, it was Sarah herself who suggested this post.

Kate Kortbus is a mother of four children who makes time to assist bereaved children in families devastated by cancer.

Kate reminds that one of the most important things a friend or family member can do to fill the chasm a parent leaves behind is to start slowly in establishing a trusting relationship with the bereaved child. For example, set aside an hour a week to take the child to do something without any pressure – grab an ice cream cone, or get a pedicure. In other words, find an activity to share where a child can develop a relationship with the person offering comfort.

Simultaneously, one should develop a relationship with the surviving spouse that enables this emergent friend/child relationship. Let them know that you are not expecting any reciprocity. Say that you would just like to help in this way. Be sure to communicate with them regularly. E-mail/text is a great way to communicate information, because it is hard to know when a bereaved spouse has the head space to meet in person or even talk on the phone.

Next, try to anticipate milestones as they approach. This is where developing a trusting relationship will pay off. Says Kate:

“Depending on the age of the child, a parent friend could think about what milestone the child is approaching and offer the surviving spouse help with meeting a need.”

If the death to cancer was that of a mother and she leaves a young daughter, consider helping her to understand what will happen when she begins to menstruate. Think about making a day of taking her bra shopping.

If the death to cancer was that of a father and he leaves a young son, consider helping him to buy male sports equipment such as an athletic cup. Or, talk to him about when and how to begin shaving.

Topics such as these are the reason that the establishment of a trusting relationship between all surviving parties is so critical. Says Kate:

“People might otherwise be uncomfortable with making it all about these sensitive milestones.”

Regardless of gender, talk about emergent interests in all arenas. Engagement in the arts can be hugely therapeutic. Sports teams can build community as well – but all are time consuming. Think about ways to promote extracurricular interests and offer assistance in their execution.

Children who experience the death of parent may have trouble learning to trust that the relationships they rely on will be lasting and sustaining. Adult friends who step up are to be honored – but these adults must understand at the outset that engagement with these particular children is a marathon, not a sprint. Prior to stepping up, they should consider whether they truly have staying power. These children are special. They are deserving of long-term commitment in this regard.

True Confessions: I Was Not Completely Sure How To Bathe My Newborn

Many new parents say that they delight in giving their newborn a first bath.

Not me.

First baths take place after the umbilical cord stump has fallen off. Warm shallow water is often very pleasing to a newborn. And there is something incredibly gratifying about washing a baby and then choosing a darling pair of new soft pajamas. There is the way that baby hair stands straight up after it is washed – full on dandelion fluff. Gah. Just the thing.

Still, some new parents confess to nerves about the first bath. These moms and dads are my people. The baby seems so small and so slippery. These nerves are normal. Take a breath. It does get easier.

When my firstborn was a newborn I was nervous about many things. I had cared for children before, sure, but never newborns. And I had never loved anyone so much. I was not completely sure I was up to the task.

No one ever told me about cradle cap. I did not understand how or (whether) I was supposed to kind of gently remove it?

Baby acne also felt like a little bit of a surprise.

Neither one of these things should have stumped me particularly. Still, they did.

Note: both of these things go away on their own. Neither one of them is anything to be concerned about. (As always, though, one should seek medical advice to assuage any specific concerns).

I recount these things here only because it feels important to tell the truth about the early days of new motherhood. These early days can be overwhelming. Do anything you can to seek the support you need.

No one knows exactly what they are doing.

When I figured out that I could actually accomplish the bath, it felt like a triumph. Looking back now it seems funny to me – how outsized this worry became. Granted, I got it under control quickly but it still stands as one of those things I wish I had confessed to sooner. Because it was not a big deal, but so too is the fact that he felt so small, and I felt so uncertain.

My children loved their first baths. They seemed perplexed by the water. Initially, one or two may have hesitated. But then they settled in and enjoyed the gentle dribble of warm water from a sponge or a wash cloth.

In my memory, the first bath is perhaps more intimate than other newborn developmental markers. I couldn’t say just why. Me and a baby? We just felt like a universe of ourselves. It was a moment in time I still call up with the greatest affection.

Breastfeeding 101: The Brutal Truth & Supporting New Moms

Give InKind expresses gratitude to Kerry Lee Zeff, owner of Sapling for her expert contributions to this post. (Anecdotal incidents reflect the experiences of the author only).

In an effort to be transparent about breastfeeding, I have included a picture of myself at the very moment of first latch. My friend is jamming my nipple into the mouth of my newborn and I am finding it somewhat uncomfortable.

Which is to say I am finding it unbelievably painful.

Breastfeeding is not always the most natural thing. Many new moms struggle to establish breastfeeding. Many report feelings of extreme stress and worry that they are not succeeding. Many new moms may feel isolated and alone. It is worth remembering that breastfeeding is often hard at the beginning – it can be challenging and uncomfortable. New moms should know that they are not alone.

In order to support a new mom who wishes to establish breastfeeding, first and foremost make sure she receives adequate support and education.

Says Kerry Lee Zeff:

“Many new moms get a lot of unsolicited advice from friends and family. Moms should remember that their friends and family are not experts … mamas may need to identify the best people in their lives to trust and listen to – and take everything else with a grain of salt.”

Difficulty breastfeeding is no reflection on mama’s ability to meet the needs of her baby.

Should she wish to breastfeed, help her to identify a fully qualified lactation expert. Ask around for the best person in a community to learn who might be helpful. Go ahead and contact La Leche League for suggestions.

If a baby seems to have difficulty latching on, consider whether there is an issue of a tongue-tie which can impede effective latch. Make sure to seek truly expert advice on this point, as this can sometimes be misdiagnosed.

Make sure that the new mom is eating enough. This is a great time to keep the meals coming. Ask whether she is getting enough sleep. Assuming she is not (normal), make sure to anticipate needs such as shopping, laundry, and cleaning.

Consider providing her a basket of items to assist in her establishing of breastfeeding. Let her know that she is wonderful. Let her know that her baby is just perfect. Remind her that they are made for one another.

I had a terrible time at the the beginning when I learned to breastfeed. This is not something I share with pregnant women because their experience will be theirs. Their pregnancy and plans to breastfeed are not about me.

It is, however, something I absolutely share with anyone who struggles to nurse. When I began nursing it hurt a great deal. This is evidenced by the terrible picture accompanying this post. My nipples bled. I was tired. I was terrifically scared that I would not make enough milk. I obsessively counted and weighed diapers and still remember the lurch of my stomach when the diaper was dry.

Nursing for the first time is a terrific leap of faith.

With adequate and loving support, I was able to receive the support I needed in order to learn to breastfeed. I had loving friends. I had a pediatrician with whom I was able to establish an good dialogue.

But this was a difficult path. It was more difficult than people like to acknowledge. So go ahead and acknowledge it. The measure of success is love.

Cancer? But I’m A Virgo: Supporting Men With Cancer

Give InKind is honored to feature Johnny Brookbank from Lavender & Hammers. Johnny was successfully treated for testicular cancer at the age of 26. Here, he shares what is was like to tell his parents that their child had been diagnosed with cancer.

This is an excerpt from his book entitled Cancer? But I’m a Virgo.

Over the last few weeks I’ve left my parents in the dark because I didn’t want to put them through unnecessary Cancer worry, especially if the problem were going to simply solve itself. Which it didn’t. So now I have to work on The Big Reveal. And remember, as any good salesman will tell you, presentation is everything.

Jade pulls into a Walgreen’s parking lot to buy a Diet Coke and we sit on the sidewalk and call her mom. “It’s a lump. It’s cancer. They’re taking it, yes.” My mother-in-law asks to speak to me. She asks me how I’m doing. She asks me how I’m feeling. I tell her that it’s no big deal. I tell her that absolute very worst-case scenario is that I have to get a little chemotherapy, just some needle and I’ll feel like I’ve got the flu for a bit. I’ll get better. Whatever.

She says, “Wow.” She says, “You’re brave.” She says, “Stay strong.”

The truth is, I’m not brave. I’m being forced kicking and screaming through this scenario. I don’t want to be here, and I never would have volunteered. I don’t deserve this.

Deserve. That’s an awfully big word that gets thrown around a lot. Maybe I do deserve it. I try to examine my life from a higher perspective. I’ve lied, cheated, and stolen; said hurtful things to people intentionally; torn people down verbally with complete purpose; and talked shit about my friends and family behind their backs. Maybe I do deserve this.

We drive home and I take a seat in my backyard on our patio furniture. I lean back in the chair and let the sun, one of the only absolute constants in our lives, hit my face, warm me, comfort me.

A man walks through my alley pushing a shopping cart and shouting, “Tamale! Tamale! Tamale con queso!” and I think about him and all my neighbors and how, as far as I know, none of them have cancer. Just me. Just all of a sudden. Nobody knows about my balls. Nobody anywhere knows or cares about anything right now.

My mom wanders around her home 1,500 miles away, feeding her dogs, her healthy children somewhere in the back of her head. My dad fixes a computer, thoughts of gigabytes and RAM clouding his brain, the world a dull fuzz outside of his peripheral.

Everything is about to change for them. They are about to become Parents Of A Child With Cancer.

I pick up the phone and call my mom first. I let it ring six times before I hang up. I set the phone down and stare at it, wondering if maybe she’ll call right back. I stand up and start pacing, rubbing my thumb along the inside of my pinky, a nervous tick I have.

I pick up the phone again and try my dad. It rings twice before he answers in a distracted, gruffly voice. “This is Mike,” he says. “Hey, Daaaaaad. It’s me.” I sort of let the word play out like that because I have no idea how to get into this conversation, how to ease into it; I didn’t plan an opening act or monologue. “How’s it going?” I ask, and he begins to tell me about computer problems that I don’t and probably won’t ever understand. I listen, but only to be polite because I didn’t call to hear what he’s been up to. I didn’t call for any polite reason. I called with one intent and I’m just waiting for my selfish turn to speak.

“What’s new with you?” he asks. And there’s my window.

“Well,” I say, struggling for the words, hoping that they would find me if I just started talking but . . . no. I throw eloquence and pacing to the wind and just say, “I have cancer.”

There’s a long pause on the other end like he’s waiting for the punch line. The great joke this is bound to be. It doesn’t come. Trust me, I’m still waiting myself.

He says, “Oh . . . kay . . . . Did you tell your mom?” and I say, “No,” and he says, “You better let me tell her,” and I quickly say, “NO! No . . . I’d rather tell her myself,” and he says, “Oh . . . kay . . . . ” and I quickly fill in the blanks with, “There’s a good chance I’ll survive. I just . . . I have cancer . . . . ” There’s more silence. Loads of it. Then he says, “Your mom just got home. Why don’t you call her?” And I do.

“Yellow, John Boy! How ya’ doin’?” My mother is forever the chipper woman, her syllables bouncing up and down playfully. I feel bad that I have to destroy this. I say, “I’m doing good. I’m doing OK. Did Dad talk to you?” and she, with a hint of suspicion, says, “Nooo-ooooh. What’s going on?”

I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. In my head I think, I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. I wish I could just keep it from you and spare you and not drag you into it. I wish I didn’t have to damage you with this information, and I’m sorry for the pain I’m about to cause you. I feel sick to my stomach.

“I have cancer.”

Another long silence. I’ll get used to these. Like an old computer reading a large file, people need a chunk of time to process a sizable piece of information like that.

There are no tears. She doesn’t cry. Everything about this interaction is atypical. I tell her I should survive and she says, “OK.” I tell her I’ll keep her posted on everything and then, as she’s telling me goodbye, I hear her voice crack and I realize that she is first and foremost in shock, and second, trying to keep a straight face for my sake. I tell her goodbye and the moment I slam the phone closed I begin to cry, vicious sobs that wrench my body.

Moments later my phone rings, and I assume it’s my mom calling back, but no. It’s my brother-in-law, Jarod. I cover my eyes with the palm of my hand and wipe down, pushing the tears away. I look up at the sky, and I think about how there are people out there with real problems. People starving. People dying. Currently dying of cancer. Lung cancer. Heart cancer. Brain cancer. Get it together. I answer the phone, trying to sound cool but coming off like a mop. “Hey . . . . ”

Jarod, three years my senior, says, “Heeeey. So I just heard about . . . . How are you doing?” and this is the one person I’ve spoken to so far who I don’t want to cry in front of. This is my brother-in-law and the person I just want to shrug it off with and give an, “Eh, you know,” but for some reason, I can’t hold it back. Everything comes out. Everything I didn’t tell my mom. Everything I didn’t tell my dad. Everything I didn’t tell my mother-in-law. Everything I didn’t tell my wife. It comes out now.

Everything overflows.

“I’m so afraid. I’m so fucking afraid. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t . . . I don’t fucking deserve this and . . . it’s so fucked up. I can’t have kids— I’m like some fucking . . . sterile . . . . I can’t fucking have kids! And they’re going to cut my nut off. I’m so afraid that I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.” And then I just cry into the phone and it feels so great and so terrible and Jarod says the absolute wisest thing he can.

Nothing.

He simply listens.

Caring for a Friend After a C-Section

I remember the moment I returned from the hospital following the birth of my firstborn. He had been delivered by C-section a few days earlier.

I remember so clearly the very first time he was placed into my arms. He was a dewy and quivering newborn and I grew weak with love. My breath literally caught. I thought, “oh so this is love.”

I convalesced in the hospital for a few days. My initial recovery was well-managed but I was eager to get home.

When we came home from the hospital, we walked through the front door. My husband and I were no longer a couple, but a family. We were now linked by blood.

We took the baby upstairs and laid him down.

My husband then said that he was going to run to the store.

I was seized with a sudden terror. I suddenly understood, in no uncertain terms, that I was actually supposed to take care of this sweet baby.

I was still sore from my C-section. I was bone tired from labor and then surgery. I loved being with my baby but picking him up was hard – especially since I was a new mother and had very little confidence in my unproven instincts. I knew how to take care of a baby, but perhaps not my baby. Anyway, I worried. It was as if everything I knew about baby and childcare flew out of my mind.

As I picked him up gently (so gently) my stomach and my back strained even under his tiny weight.

But my crew rushed in.

I loved my recovery. As I rested with my baby I was taken care of by those women in my inner circle. I have never been so steeped in love. I was fed. I binge watched Dawson’s Creek (dating myself). I literally gazed upon my baby as it snowed outside. My friends made my postpartum idyllic.

I remember being scared about nursing. Would my milk come in? Yes. Would it always hurt to nurse? No. Fears about feeding are nearly universal. Ask for the help you need. (I initially supplemented with formula some to ease my worries and worked with my pediatrician to support nursing as well, the latter of which I ended up doing for years for all my children).

There were worries in those early days, but when I recall this time, I now remember the idyllic aspects far more than I do the things that frightened me.

I owe that fact to the those who offered me their unwavering love and support.

Any reservations I could conceivably have held about a C-section were never allowed to take root.

The lack of judgement, and the total honoring of my passage from woman to mother was the great gift of my life. This week marked the opening of the me – the new us. We paused at the threshold of the mysterious world. And then out we stepped out.

Veteran Moms Recollect: The Best Newborn Gifts they Ever Got

Give InKind recently took an unscientific poll from veteran moms. We asked what baby gift stands out as their favorite one – even years out. In the fog of new baby, we were surprised at the clarity of these recollections. Many of those we polled still remember specific meals served to them – up to thirty-three years later.

If you are looking for just the right thing to give to an expectant parent you know, read on.

Here are the top picks for new moms, from those that have been there.

Care packages of necessary items such as nipple cream, sunscreen, and lotion.
Gift cards for meal kit services such as Blue Apron or Home Chef. These are especially great when you have a stand-in trying to get dinner on the table, without resorting to take-out every night. Trust us, dad will not be offended if he’s presented with a ready-to-cook meal, no matter how great of a chef he is. Your mother-in-law, on the other hand – we can’t promise.
Useful baby gear. Things that are actually functional and comfortable for baby wearing, such as Ergo. Or, let’s be serious, safe contraptions in which to park babies when you want to, say, take a shower.
Cotton Swaddling blankets are soft and in near constant use. (They often become sweet keepsake items for parents and kick around in drawers for years).
Snack baskets of yummy things easily eaten with one hand, stuffed into a diaper bag or kept on the bedside table. Those middle of night cravings don’t end when the baby is out.
Care package of items you don’t know you need until you realize how badly you need them. Things like stain remover, bleach stick, temperature-gauging duckie, burp cloths, and diaper cream.
Excellent and easy to use infant thermometer. Feeling prepared in an emergency emboldens a new parent. Sifting the necessary from the unnecessary in the infant gear department is helpful. An easy to use thermometer is a great thing.
Fancy Frozen food delivered and packaged safely means that this can be safely consumed (with a glass of wine) whenever parents like. Sometimes even with the best of intentions (or a fridge full of groceries), dinner just doesn’t make it onto the table. You can be the hero in this situation.
Diaper bag from Skip Hop – Extra points if you load it up with necessary items. (This makes a terrific baby shower present).
Music mix to sleep by with a voice activated listening device like the Amazon Echo to take cordless advantage of baby asleep on you and other obstacles to accomplishing anything with a newborn. [Editor’s note: I recently took advantage of a friend’s Echo while cuddling her baby so she could shower. Being able to say “Alexa, play lullabies” and then shortly after “Alexa, start NPR” was a game-changer.]
Box of excellent meat for grilling and feeding hungry mamas feeding hungry babies. All the nursing and/or the night bottle feedings take a serious toll. Protein please! This is also a great gift for dads and those summer babies – the cooking happens out of the kitchen, older kids can play in the yard, and mom gets a quiet house for just a little bit longer.
Wet bag is equally useful for diapers and then bathing suits down the road. A wet bag is a total mom go-to. One of our moms still uses hers – although her oldest is now seven years old.
Babysitting gift certificates are always a great gift. Even new moms might want to pop out unencumbered – once in a while.
Home made dinners with all the home touches factored also into our list. Moms recount visceral food memories of apple crisps, dinner dropped off in a picnic basket with all the trimmings (including table cloths, wine, candles).

We know that baby registries are the first go-to, and we totally respect that. But there are a few cases where the been-there-done-that moms know what’s up, and this is one of them. These are also great suggestions for the repeat mom that you just want to send a little congrats to, and you know she doesn’t need any more baby gear. Though in that case, maybe just popping over with a bottle of bubbly and then taking her kids to the park is your best bet.

How To Help A Family Through Cancer Treatment

Give InKind recently sat down with Sharagim Kemp, MD, whose specialty is in primary care. In the course of treating patients, she treats families. Kemp enjoys developing longstanding and continuing relationships with her patients. We asked about how best to help a family in treatment for cancer – up to and including terminal diagnoses and necessary hospice care.

Dr. Kemp advises that a contact person be designated. Avoid bombarding cancer patients (or their families) with multiple phone calls. That said, it is imperative that the patient know that s/he is being thought of; that s/he has not been forgotten by a caring community. If you are the designated contact, be sure to write down the sorts of things that people are asking, saying, and offers of help. This sort of thing staves off isolation.

Have a set schedule of meals for people to supply for the family. If meals are being prepared locally and delivered, consider leaving a refrigerator outside. Make sure to use dishes that are disposable or that you never expect to see again. Where cancer is concerned, no one has time to track dishes return. A waiting refrigerator ensures that food will stay safe to eat and that no one needs to come out to receive food – even for a moment. If visitors really are welcome, the family can open the door.

Cleaning services are generally extremely welcome. People with cancer are often discouraged by their lack of agency. It is jangling for people used to ably running a household to be too sick to pick up. In addition, people in chemotherapy/radiation treatment are immune compromised as a result, and a clean house is critical.

Grocery shopping is a welcome gift. When at the grocery store, text the designated contact person as to whether anything is necessary. For families with children, errands are a constant and real struggle. It is always something. Tights for a ballet recital, a glue stick for a book report – these things can make or break a family under great emotional and physical stress.

It is important to respect the space of a family during illness. Even if one has a close relationship with the person who is ill, your visit their impacts the entire family unit – each member of whom is coping in their own way. The ill person may welcome a visit from a friend – but consider too the feelings and needs of the other members of the family. An ill person may save energy for young children – over a peer/friend – no matter how dear. Understand shifting boundaries – and respect them.

If the patient is up for a visit, do keep it short. Energy is a precious commodity.

Depending on your relationship to the patient, you don’t necessarily have to avoid painful topics. Know who you are to the patient. Be mindful of cues as to how much to press – but if you want to go to places of fear or uncertainty, you can. The patient spends a lot of time there – and might use the company. Just read the situation carefully. Patients know what is happening – an opportunity to discuss it may sometimes be very welcome.

Don’t forget to support the caregiver. Provide respite. Do go ahead and offer to come and spend the night so that the caregiver can rest knowing that someone else is on hand.

Dr. Kemp reminds that one of the hardest parts of cancer is missing out on the important moments in a life. These include the lives of the patient’s children. Do create experiences for a family to cherish. Go ahead and plan a movie showing in the backyard on a summer evening. Make some popcorn and invite a few close friends. Or, bring a school concert home in similar fashion.

If the prognosis is not favorable, help the cancer patient to plan for their death. This can be comforting, because it provides a blueprint for extended family care. No matter how painful a terminal diagnosis may be it is more painful to not understand plans for the care of children and spouse. Doing things like designating close friends to help with specific tasks may be empowering.

5 Reasons Meal Kits Make a Great Gift for a New Mom

Casting about for baby gifts for a pal of mine who just had her third child, I started thinking hard about meal kits. She had plenty of clothes – and all the gear in the world.

I started considering whether or not a meal kit is just the ticket for a new mom.

Rather than guess at it, I decided to try it myself. (I had to remember what it really felt like to have a newborn and then to have a newborn with older kids – these were delightful memories and one of the greatest things about this experiment).

The takeaway: I have learned that services like Blue Apron may very well be a game changer for a growing family.

These are the top five reasons a meal kit is a great gift for a new mom:

Cooking without the hassle. Meals lovingly prepared by others in the early days can be just the ticket. But quite soon, one starts to run out of freezer space. Meals provided are of (ahem) variable quality and (often) similar content. Some things freeze better than others. When my children were born, I liked being up and around as soon as possible – at least within my house. It made me feel more together than I actually was. This meant that I liked filling my home with delicious smells whenever possible, attempting some sense of normalcy. Meal kits allow for this to conveniently occur.
No planning. In the throes of sleep deprivation, I wanted to just be directed about what to do. Meal planning was a challenge for sure. When a meal kit shows up there is no choice. You cook what you are sent. It is strangely empowering and oddly relaxing.
No shopping. The worst thing to me about cooking with children is taking them to the grocery store. I always end up spending more than I would with my kids in tow than I do alone. I hate that they sell toys, and there is candy at every checkout. I hated schlepping a sleeping newborn in a car seat into a germ slicked shopping cart. Even after wiping it down with antiseptic everything the whole experience still felt like a cold waiting to happen. Meal kit = no shopping.
No shopping part II. Meal kits are great gifts for a working parent. The work/life balance (whatever that means) is a real struggle. The road from work to home is longer where there are errands. Errands can make a parent weep. A waiting meal kit simplifies. No figuring out what to buy, what to make. It’s just there. Follow the directions – boom! On the table before your toddler can ask for a second or third showing of Thomas (yet another source of mom guilt, alleviated).
Breaks up cooking monotony. Some find meal kits slightly tyrannical because what if you don’t like what is on the menu? (Note: you can set some food preferences). For example, I am not a fan of potato salad but last week I made, if I do say so myself, a pretty good one. The meal kits contain quality ingredients – clean meat and wild caught fish. A meal kit challenges me to do myself what I require of my kids – try new food. The flip side of the apparent rigidity of a meal kit is that it is a decision made for you. This can be so nice. (Parents make decisions all day long – this is a set recipe with directions to follow).

I’m not sure what is on the menu for today but I eagerly await my delivery.

When you sign a new mom pal up, make sure to know her food preferences. Or, send her a gift certificate so that she can just go ahead and set her own preferences. There may be days of the week that are better for her than others.

Go ahead and send along some disposable plates, flatware and the rest too, especially for those earliest days when visitors may be helping with the cooking (but not so much the dishes).

If Amazon Prime is an option throw that in to pretty much guarantee there’s no need to shop again for a while.

(Some meal plans even deliver paired wine to accompany meals. And that is a double yum for many).