Day #35: Bread Making and Rule Breaking
I missed writing yesterday. I knew I'd break my streak eventually but I am trying to keep it up. I have been so glad to be doing it and I think the people I would otherwise be venting to appreciate it as well. I mean, I still vent to them. But less.
Today was Day 2 of bread baking. We got one loaf out of yesterday (the recipe claims it makes 2,) and that was not nearly enough. I have finally figured out that the key to my mom's bread recipe is make sure you do all 3 rises (most recipes I've seen only call for 2,) do not skimp on the kneading, and one batch does not really quite make enough for 2 loaves although 2 batches, though incredibly unwieldy, will make 3. The smell of fresh baked bread takes me right back to my childhood. Also, cut the end of a loaf of fresh baked bread off and butter it with a little cinnamon, that's heaven right there.
My mom will have been gone 25 years in June. That's a very long time. I was 16 when she died. The number of people in my life who never knew her outnumber the number of people who did by at least 10 to 1. And yet something about slamming a chunk of warm bread dough onto the counter and kneading it brings me closer to her. I gave James his own piece to knead and set to rise and bake in his own little bread pan and eat with butter with his dinner. It's what she always did for me.
So we are not among the toilet paper hoarders, but we definitely are in the pandemic bakers crowd. Although to be fair I've always loved baking. Max, of course, is confused by all the things, managed to get "stuck" when I was up to my arms in kneading, and somehow, unbeknownst to me at the time, unplugged the fridge. So the journey of motherhood marches on.
When I set the bread for its first rise and checked my phone I saw a text from a friend...wanna break the rules with me? So she brought us McDonald's food, we sat in our front yard while she and her kid sat in their car and we ate lunch "together," from 6 ft. away. We blew bubbles and laughed...it was so unbelievably delightful. I told her I would never again complain about motherhood with open parks and libraries and play dates that are allowed, but I will. It's inevitable.
Friends are a good thing. We are now the proud owners of a family set of masks...the sewn kind, not my DIY version. They are super cute. We have not actually tried them yet but we are sending Josh to the grocery store tomorrow so he will give one of them a go.
James is ridiculously excited about Easter. I hope it isn't a disappointment. I've tried to prepare him for he may not get what he wants or it may not go how he likes, but I think the something to look forward to is helping him at the moment.
And so it marches on. And it's easy to forget the suffering out there. Our world is very very small right now. But a facebook friend just posted that a friend of hers is in the hospital. 400,000 people in the U.S. have contracted this disease and over 13,000 of them have died. That's completely staggering. And while it doesn't help to fixate on those numbers, I do try to remember the real suffering that's out there. It makes the frustration and the exhaustion of doing this worth it in some small way.
So today I'm grateful for health and friends, for masks, for the smell of fresh baked bread and popcorn, for sunshine and books and prayer. For my mom, who I still miss every day even though it's different after 25 years, missing her hurts less now, most days anyway. For my dad who when he talks to Max on the phone I swear I can hear him smile. For the man I have married and our lives together. For James, painting with water and playing with stupid little happy meal toys and just enjoying life because he's almost six and he can. For this life. I'm grateful for this life.
Today was Day 2 of bread baking. We got one loaf out of yesterday (the recipe claims it makes 2,) and that was not nearly enough. I have finally figured out that the key to my mom's bread recipe is make sure you do all 3 rises (most recipes I've seen only call for 2,) do not skimp on the kneading, and one batch does not really quite make enough for 2 loaves although 2 batches, though incredibly unwieldy, will make 3. The smell of fresh baked bread takes me right back to my childhood. Also, cut the end of a loaf of fresh baked bread off and butter it with a little cinnamon, that's heaven right there.
My mom will have been gone 25 years in June. That's a very long time. I was 16 when she died. The number of people in my life who never knew her outnumber the number of people who did by at least 10 to 1. And yet something about slamming a chunk of warm bread dough onto the counter and kneading it brings me closer to her. I gave James his own piece to knead and set to rise and bake in his own little bread pan and eat with butter with his dinner. It's what she always did for me.
So we are not among the toilet paper hoarders, but we definitely are in the pandemic bakers crowd. Although to be fair I've always loved baking. Max, of course, is confused by all the things, managed to get "stuck" when I was up to my arms in kneading, and somehow, unbeknownst to me at the time, unplugged the fridge. So the journey of motherhood marches on.
When I set the bread for its first rise and checked my phone I saw a text from a friend...wanna break the rules with me? So she brought us McDonald's food, we sat in our front yard while she and her kid sat in their car and we ate lunch "together," from 6 ft. away. We blew bubbles and laughed...it was so unbelievably delightful. I told her I would never again complain about motherhood with open parks and libraries and play dates that are allowed, but I will. It's inevitable.
Friends are a good thing. We are now the proud owners of a family set of masks...the sewn kind, not my DIY version. They are super cute. We have not actually tried them yet but we are sending Josh to the grocery store tomorrow so he will give one of them a go.
James is ridiculously excited about Easter. I hope it isn't a disappointment. I've tried to prepare him for he may not get what he wants or it may not go how he likes, but I think the something to look forward to is helping him at the moment.
And so it marches on. And it's easy to forget the suffering out there. Our world is very very small right now. But a facebook friend just posted that a friend of hers is in the hospital. 400,000 people in the U.S. have contracted this disease and over 13,000 of them have died. That's completely staggering. And while it doesn't help to fixate on those numbers, I do try to remember the real suffering that's out there. It makes the frustration and the exhaustion of doing this worth it in some small way.
So today I'm grateful for health and friends, for masks, for the smell of fresh baked bread and popcorn, for sunshine and books and prayer. For my mom, who I still miss every day even though it's different after 25 years, missing her hurts less now, most days anyway. For my dad who when he talks to Max on the phone I swear I can hear him smile. For the man I have married and our lives together. For James, painting with water and playing with stupid little happy meal toys and just enjoying life because he's almost six and he can. For this life. I'm grateful for this life.
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