a child’s creativity
he played with that paintbrush and cup of flour for long enough for me to knead the whole batch.
and then some.
sunshine
the way it sneaks around the corners in my home
the way it warms the winter sky
bright colors
they make even a messy house feel cheerful
naked babies
just because
my kitchen
and trying new recipes.
What’s inspiring you today?
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You know that I Love Lucy episode where Lucy and Ethel get jobs at the chocolate factory and the conveyer belt is moving faster than they can work?
(The punch line is that the chocolates end up all over the place—under their hats, in their dresses, stuffed into their cheeks, etc.)
That’s how my life feels right now. The projects are piling up.
Every year before the holidays it’s as if someone yells “speed it up” into the control room.
Those of us who value handmade seem to put rather a lot of pressure on ourselves to make. Everything. All the time.
For me, it’s partially about living up to holidays past where everyone got a personal handmade gift. Some of it is due to my general distain for the holiday commercialism in our culture and not wanting to literally buy into it. Add to the mix that we celebrate Chanukah around here, which falls in early December this year, and the heat is on.
No matter what the reason—when it gets this way I lose some of the pleasure in the process of making.
So this year: I’m only going to do what I can do.
And I’m going to be okay with that. I have kids that need my attention—now. And web sites that need designing. And a husband who needs attention—now. And a body that needs sleep. And a house that needs attention.
I’m letting myself off the hook.
And if this sweater magically gets finished
all the better.
But these cookies needed making.
and I have no regrets—well, almost no regrets (I may have eaten too many).
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Have you ever had a moment where everything was just exactly as it was supposed to be?
When it happens to me I try to remember what it feels like so that in the tougher times I have a feeling to focus on. Sometimes I even ask Niall to remind me of how It was when I feel like it’s all falling apart.
This afternoon for just a few perfect minutes I had such a moment.
Jake came through the door at exactly thirteen minutes past three, like he does everyday. He was bouncing and smiling and holding Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets which he has been plodding through since sometime during the summer. (If you have one of those children for whom reading is a joy then you may not be able to understand the huge accomplishment and happiness in what he said to me next.)
“I’m about to read the last line Mom.”
He stood there in the doorway, all middle-school hair and baggy jeans and read it aloud to Quinn and I. Quinn ran to him—as he does everyday—calling his name and wrapped his chubby toddler arms around Jake’s legs. They continued tangled like that into the kitchen where we all shared snack.
And when I say snack, I really mean it. We weren’t digging through the Halloween candy today! We had amazing (almost-healthy) cookies (which had just come out of the oven). We sat around the table like that for a while. Talking. Laughing. Eating. No one was complaining or wanting or whining. They were talking to each other and to me and just for those short moments I was the perfect mother.
Before it ended (and believe me, it did) I managed to get dinner in the oven and all the dishes washed. And then life came knocking and homework came due and moods went sour. But it didn’t matter today because I remember how it felt.
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There were lots of you who liked the idea of participating in a blog-ring of sorts where we pledge to show more of our real-life on our blogs. So I give you: Moments. If you’d like to participate, here are the guidelines: try and be as authentic as you can. You don’t have to post photos of your messy house or tell us your most embarrassing moment (unless you want to). I’m just asking that you keep reality in your mind when you post. That’s it. Feel free to send me your link if you haven’t already and I’ll add you.
Here’s my entry for today.
I’m feeling a little vulnerable about the sharing so go easy on me. (If you look closely you’ll see, Spongebob and Elmo on the floor, My copy of Portland Through the Lens, a hat on the knitting needles, a big-boy computer and a little-boy computer, my reading glasses and Ginger-the-Cat’s hind leg.)
Now, onto what you really want (even if you don’t know it yet). The recipe for the cookies in the picture. Do yourself a favor, make these cookies. These are the chewiest spiciest ginger-iest mollasses-iest butter-y most delicious cookies. Ever. The recipe was shared with me a few years ago by my friend Heather (who is famous in certain circles for said cookies) and since then they have become the epitome of fall baking in our house.
Let me give you a little background about the cookie-eating-habits of my family. It’s all chocolate chip all the time around here. I make something else, they ask where the chocolate chips are. I stray from my usual recipe, they ask why I bothered. Three nights a week, without fail, Sean (Jake’s father) comes over for one reason or another and walks directly to the cookie jar. If there are no chocolate chip cookies in the jar he emerges from the kitchen with a sad puppy look on his face and goes about his business all pouty-like. When he finds cookies, it’s a different story entirely. The problem here is that I’m not as big a fan of the chocolate chip as they are. I like them fine on occasion, but my heart belongs to the oatmeal raisin. But I digress. The point is that even with all that chocolate chip love, they give it a rest for a while when it’s ginger molasses season. Even Sean.
Here’s the recipe. A few notes: this recipe makes a lot of cookies but don’t bother halving it, you’ll eat them all. Or give some to your neighbors—they’ll take in your trash cans for a year. There’s lots of butter in these cookies. Don’t skimp or substitute. I promise, you won’t regret it. That’s it. Now go make them—you can thank me later.
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If you think it sounds lovely to take your two boys and one of their friends to the local orchard on a day off from school, you’re right. It does sound lovely. When you arrive to find that every other person within forty miles of said orchard also thought the same thing you might start rethinking your decision. No problem. We’re flexible. Let’s grab our apples for the afternoon’s pie-baking bonanza and scram. (For these boys the fun is in the kitchen anyway.) Car. Won’t. Start. %&*@. Breathe. Still flexible.
How does one remain calm and cheerful in the face of such adversity? Two words: cider donuts.
I guess there are worse places to be stranded.
Applesauce Oatmeal Cookies
Ingredients
Directions
Beat butter and brown sugar until combined. Add cinnamon, cloves and soda and mix. Add egg and applesauce and beat until smooth. Gently beat in flour and mix. Add oats and mix. Drop by rounded teaspoons on a parchment-lined cookie sheet and bake in a 375-degree oven until lightly browned.
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