A Day of Disorganized Cooking

I just finished reading Julie and Julia: A Year of Cooking Dangerously. In case you haven't heard of the book or the movie, it's about a secretary in New York City who decides to add some spice in her life by cooking her way through Julia Child's masterpiece: Mastering the Art of French Cooking (or something like that).

I'd give the book a B-/C+. I get the book's premise, Julie was 29, unhappy at work and cooking her way through this cookbook and blogging about it gave her a purpose and helped her discover a new passion: writing. But I never really cared about her journey. And frankly, I didn't think the writer successfully got across her growth.

But this book has got me thinking. What would it be like if I blogged about food? Everyday in my kitchen is a day of cooking dangerously. Or at least cooking adventurously. Or may be it's just cooking in a disorganized fashion. I try so hard to be organized, but it never fails I leave an ingredient off the shopping list or someone eats the main ingredient before I use it or I forget to defrost something before I leave for work or I get home and find the kids are munching on Taco Bell, because they were so starving they couldn't wait. So in honor of the book, here's my food blogger entry, because as hard as I try, the perfect family dinner is as elusive as the perfect school morning. But I can always dream.

For Christmas, I got a brand new bread maker. I've always wanted one. Just the thought of the bulky bread maker sitting on my counter brings on fantasies of the aroma of fresh baked bread hitting me as I walk in from work. Somehow, if only I could make fresh bread, I'd be not only a better person, but a better mother. I'd be feeding my children something without preservatives or other chemicals: just flour, water, yeast and a little sugar. Any mother worth her salt wants to feed her children home made bread over store bought bread as often as possible and this bread maker was my ticket to that higher tier of motherhood.

As I was running out the door this morning, I put on my first batch of bread. I set the delay timer so it would be done right at 5:30pm. Then, I patted myself on the back so hard my shoulder ached, because we were going to have fresh bread for dinner, thanks to my brilliant planning. See, I could ice skate with the kids all day in SF and still feed them something fresh baked when we got home. Martha Stewart will be calling me for tips oh how to do it all, I thought as I closed the front door.

The whole way home from the city the kids and I talked about the bread. We were going to smell it as soon as we walked in. Dinner was going to be simple: left over chicken, fresh bread and fruit. We could dip the bread in the sauce from the chicken. Yum. We could slather it with butter. May be it would be so good we didn't need butter or sauce. Yum. Yum. We were all excited. My heart even raced a little as I opened the door and drew a deep breath. I smelled pine, some remnants of last night's chicken and nothing else. I ran to the bread maker and peered into the top window. It was ugly. It worked, but not right. The bottom half of the loaf was a dense mass of pastry, the top half was unblended flour. No fluffy white loaf to dip in our tomato sauce. No call from Martha. I was still just a disorganized, forgetful mother. I could see the shame written all over the kids faces.

How could this be? I followed the directions, measured carefully, heck, I even made a little well for the yeast. What could have gone wrong? Then I noticed it: The basket was crooked. I hadn't snapped it into place. I think I heard one of the girls softly whimper as I dumped the mess into the trash. Dinner ended up being a breadless affair: can of soup and a couple of quesadillas. I let the kids eat in front of the television. Really, how could I get passionate about the food when in fact, it was just a typical dinner? Perhaps I'll try it again. Now, I just need to remember to add flour to the shopping list.

A Letter to My Children

Dear Baby Girls-

Well, you should know as of today, I'm official at the end of my rope. Yep. I'm holding on by a thread and it isn't pretty. How did it happen? Well, I'm not 100% sure, but I think it's partially the job, partially motherhood and partially the holidays. Since I don't know exactly the cause, let me just describe how I know I've lost it.

Complete disregard for double checking facts: It's true Maggie, you were within two hours of being kicked out of school because I had a fact wrong. I assumed that I had until the end of first grade to turn in your health care check form to the school nurse. I don't know where I got that fact, but I just knew I had time. Until the school nurse called me at school on December 1 and told me if she didn't have the form by 2:30 that afternoon, you couldn't go to school the next day. Sure, they'd sent me mail, but I knew I had to turn in the form by June 11, so why read the mail? Who has time? This is a symptom.

Inability to read eVites: Yes, girls, I no longer seem to be able to read eVites. If an invitation isn't in writing, chances are I'm going to get something wrong. I may write it on my calendar wrong, I may read it wrong, I may just forget. My most recent episode happened on the weekend of 12/5. I was invited to a baby shower. I wrote on my calendar on Sunday, the invitation clearly read Sunday, yet I woke up Saturday morning just knowing I had a baby shower. Well, I went to the house and I was the only person there. I was a day early. Yes, I was embarrassed, but more than anything I was exasperated with myself. This was the second mess up in less than a week. Just another sign, life is out of control.

Failure to keep appointments: Today was by far the lowest I have sunk. I agreed to take 2 neighbors to and from school. I dutifully put it on my calendar: Pick up neighbors at 9:15. The sitter was picking up from school. I made sure she knew the details, sent her their address, she was set. Then, this morning dawned, the neighbor called early to report a mountain lion sighting happened in his yard. In all the excitement, I left for work, right on time at 8am. I got to work, was happily heading to a meeting at 9:30, when my phone rang. "Maggie's mom, when are you coming to get me?" GULP. I totally forgot. Yep, there it was on my calendar, but I didn't look at it. Rush, rush, call the Dad. He saved the days and got the neighbors to school.

So, you see, three times in just over two weeks, I made a major screw up. Dear children, times are tough for your dear old mother. I'd like to blame the holidays, the fact La Nina's class is doing Secret Santas and I need to have a little gift for her everyday, the fact that today is La Nina's 7th family day and Monday is the Dad's birthday, and Saturday is La Nina's Nutcracker. Oh and Christmas is a week away. Oh and I need to remember to take a dessert to Maggie's class on Saturday, a salad to the party on Sunday and the white elephant to the exchange on Monday. I'm just not managing it all so well these days.

So, please remember to do your homework, keep track of your dance shoes and practice your piano. 'Cuz your dear old Mom can't keep her own life together these days.

Love-

Mom