Wednesday, December 17, 2014

this is my confession

Here I am, writing on a Wednesday to keep it real for you. I have a confession. (Cue Usher's 10-year-old [[GASP!]] hit song "Confessions," which is somewhat inappropriate and does not apply to this topic at all, as an intro to this post.)

I do not like baking cookies with my kids. Don't get me wrong, I REALLY love baking cookies. However, I do not find baking cookies with my boys enjoyable. 

Send in the troops. This is some sort of failure mother-load. Baking with her kids is something all mothers are supposed to enjoy doing. (Right?!) 

And I did enjoy it, until my boys gained opinions, functional opposable thumbs and arms that could "stir." (That is, if you can even call it "stirring." Judging from the piles of flour on my counters, I think "shovel" is more accurate.)

As mothers, we are supposed to enjoy seeing our kids become competent in stirring the batter or rolling the dough. We should take joy in watching them sneak bites between ingredient additions. We should love sharing the joys of baking and the magic of the oven with our kids.

I think this is some sort of Mom-rule somewhere behind feeding our children at least three times a day, making young ones take naps, or providing adequate amounts of vegetables in their diets (which I also do not enjoy, nor am I any good at doing).

However, I have not learned the art of enjoying this time with my kids. It always starts off really well, with both kids taking turns stirring and adding ingredients. It's always really cute.

And really short-lived.

Then there's usually some sort of slip-up. Flour on the counter, egg shell in the batter, or a random extra unidentified object in the dough. That first slip-up begins it all, and from there--while I am cleaning the mess or stopping the fight over the wooden spoon or identifying the extra ingredient--all heck breaks loose and we all end up whirling around in complete madness. 

You may not know me well, so let me just tell you: I don't like madness. I like order. There is a certain type of madness I can handle, and that is the type of madness that takes place outside of my house, or at least on my own terms.

In my house, though, I need some sort of order. (Yes, this is the sign of a control freak. I am aware of this character flaw and working on it, mostly because I am forced to do so in this house of boys.)

Anyhow, I am writing to tell you that we decorated cookies last week (which took 45 minutes for ONE cookie and ended in a bowl filled to the rim with sprinkles, crumbs and icing that had been licked inside and out) and we baked cookies together today. 

And we will not be doing either again until next Christmas.