The Joys of Baking

As a homemaker, I am incredibly fortunate to be able to practice my love of baking on a regular basis.  For the last few years, I have unofficially been titled the family cake decorator and chosen to whip up my not-so-famous "applesauce cakes" for my niece/nephew's birthdays.  I have practiced my fondant skills at creating the perfect dinosaur cake for little Krew and made heart-felt creations for hubby's birthday each year.

My love of baking played a huge role in me sharing my love with my co-workers when I worked full-time, and I would happily make their favorite desserts when their birthday approached.  Much to everyone's surprise I shared with them that I don't actually like cakes.  In fact, I love baking them, but don't care to take part in eating the sugary goodness.  They were so generous to whip up some of my beloved cookies when they threw my going-away party.

After weeks of sitting in the kitchen, I finally decided to make use of the adorable cookie cutter that I received as a gift when participating in Mrs. OK.  Therefore, yesterday I made some of my first ever decorated sugar cookies.

And, I loved it!

Not only did I get to play around with using my own ingredients to sub in for the recipe, but I actually got to enjoy eating them as well!  Despite my lack of artistic skills, I was pretty pleased with the results of my impromptu baking afternoon.  My husband shared in agreement by finishing off the majority of them last night, and encouraging me to look into making them more often.  I jokingly shared that this could be the beginning of starting my little baking business for loved ones.  After thinking up a name for myself all morning I am going to spend the afternoon practicing with some new cookie cutters.  Be on the lookout for my baking blog soon!  In the meantime, enjoy these yummy pictures I snapped from yesterday's adventure.

Time Keeps on Ticking

Confession three:
Now that I am working off of a time clock, I find it incredibly easy to get caught up in the evenings and stay up late.  Therefore, last night I came across "The Parent Trap" on the television just minutes before we typically call it a night.  Since hubby has been blessed with the ability to fall asleep-any place, any time-I decided to keep it on for just a few minutes longer while he was sawing logs.

First of all, I started to get very worked up every time a commercial would come on.  Thus, I was prompted to look at the tv guide to see how much longer I had to wait for the show to be over.  I immediately noticed that what would take a mere hour and half to watch straight through was scheduled for an hour longer due to society's need to attack you with marketing.  Yes, I was grouchy about it.  After all, it was past my bedtime.

It doesn't take much to notice that I do not like for things to be left unfinished.  I find myself thinking back to a comedy sitcom I watched where they poked fun at one of the character's need for closure.  Then I realized.  This is me. 



I do not like to flip the radio in the middle of a song, leave a task half-done, or turn off the television before watching the ending.  Therefore, I stayed up way too late watching a cheesy, kids movie.

If only it were that simple.  Unfortunately, when I pushed the OFF button on my remote my brain didn't agree.  In fact, I found myself thinking of the endless list of things I needed to do.  I planned the following day and contemplated upcoming vacation desires.  Being married to a realist, I was then reminded of the fact that funds were limited in this dream vacation and had to problem solve how to make the most of what we had.  I mentally sorted through items for our garage sale and added up what I thought we would be able to put into the bank.

Numbers.

That was where I went wrong.  With math being my most challenging subject, I found myself carrying the one and trying to total the addition problem I had created in my head.  Thus, I had a very restless evening while time just kept on ticking.

April 7, 2014

Confession two:
Yes, I admit it.  I woke up past 9 o'clock this morning.  After waking up when hubby got ready for work, I hit the imaginary alarm clock and slept in.  For all of you in the world that were wondering if I awake at the crack of dawn...I don't. 

As I rolled out of bed, I did the usual routine for Mondays.  Let the pups outside, pick up their beds for my weekly deep clean in our bedroom, rip off the sheets for laundry day, sprinkle my favorite carpet cleaning powder (zorb) across the floor as instructed on the back of the label, and put up the baby gate as I make my way into the rest of the house.  You can't say I didn't warn you about my O.C.D.

After switching over the load of laundry (I had a head start thanks to the "delay wash" feature on my washing machine), I used my lavender scented Mrs. Meyers to clean the bathroom after sweeping up the floor in preparing for my afternoon steam mopping.

I was greeted with a sweet text from hubby to put me in a good mood for the week as I walked into the kitchen and looked for the perfect Monday fix for our lunch.  We were on week three of groceries before pay day, and I had to find something I had all the ingredients for that would fill a working man's belly.  Chicken, olive oil mayo, garlic and spices, eggs, celery, bread...wait, wait for it...ding, ding, ding!  Chicken salad sandwiches with potato chips and chocolate-dipped banana slices it is!

Just about the time I determined what to make the phone rang.

"Hi, honey."

After learning of a new hire, Joshua was picked out to train the latest employee.  Therefore, he apologetically shared that he wouldn't be home for lunch. 

I decided the lunch would be good enough to save for an afternoon reward to my cleaning endeavors, and opted to go ahead and whip up the savory goodness.  So, I defrosted a couple of chicken breasts and turned on the cook top and went about my morning chores.

By this time, I was folding my first load of freshly dried laundry and finishing up the scrubbing in the bathroom.  With the hub's big birthday coming up, I took a short break to take care of some surprise party hunting online.  Then, I rushed into the kitchen to check on my boiling water (after all, a watched pot never boils).

Before you read any further, please learn from my mistakes and back track my footsteps so you can avoid the same thing happening to you.  What you are about to read is the actual, uncensored events that occurred and the order in which they happened.  Be forewarned.

As I hurried to the stove, I peeked into the tiny pot that I had strategically placed two eggs into just minutes...wait, it's been that long?  I looked at the clock and realized my intent to leave the eggs in for a mere 12-15minutes had failed.  In fact, apparently the combination of time flying by and the "high" heat had caused all of the water to evaporate.

"Crap."

I looked at my chicken which was floating happily in the large pot just to the left of my dehydrated boiled eggs.  I turned both burners off and reached into the top drawer for a potholder to move the cookware off of the hot burners.

Wait, if you read that previous sentence you can see that I had not yet touched the pot yet at this time.  Okay, go on.

As I moved my hand closer to the handle, the next few seconds went lightning fast.  I remember putting the silicone potholder on (thanks to my previous burn incident just last week).  I remember making contact with the handle of the pot.  I remember barely moving the pot before closing my eyes and hearing the combination of the explosion and my own scream make its way throughout the house.

Bracing my face, I felt the burn immediately on my upper cheek and above my eyebrow.  I looked to the floor through my egg-splattered glasses and felt the dogs brush up against my legs.

"Out, out."

I ran over to the backdoor and hurried the babies outside before assessing the damage.  I grabbed my phone and immediately called my husband.  Not looking in the mirror yet, I didn't know what to expect.  Knowing he was probably driving with the new employee, I asked him to take me off bluetooth in case they were together.  Then, I choked back the tears and explained what had just happened.

After listening to my frantic self, he told me he would be home in a minute and got off the phone.

I grabbed the icepack out of the freezer and held it to my cheek as I closed my eyes in pain.  I don't know what hurt worse at this time, my face or my feelings from shock.  Just then, my sister-in-law called to check in on me after my husband had asked her what to do.  Having a nurse in the family can be incredibly helpful at times like this.

She told me not to put ice on it...oops.  And, she calmed me down as I replayed the story again.

After hanging up the phone, I walked into the bathroom and was relieved to see the small pink in my skin tone rather than blistered skin.  I called my husband to let him know I was okay, but he was already on his way.  Before I knew it, he walked into the kitchen as I held the damp washcloth to my face.  He looked at me and shared his concern before kissing me goodbye.

Then, I looked at the kitchen.

Somehow the entire egg had come out of the pot and landed underneath one of the other burners.  It was cracked in pieces where the shell made its way across the room.  Egg remnants were splattered on the window and upper cabinets, as well as the backsplash and countertops.  As I stood barefoot to wipe off the cabinets, I felt the crunch beneath my toes.  I looked down to see tiny pieces beneath them and making their way into the living room.

Who knew that an egg could make such a big mess?

I finished cleaning up the last of my boiled eggs and tossed the chicken into the garbage due to my loss of appetite.  Then, I went about the rest of my Monday cleaning-including myself.  I took my smallest baby to the vet for her two-week check up, which called for an impromptu "Mommy still loves you" trip to Petsmart for a new baby and treat.  Only to "call it a day" early and flip the television on for some TeenNick to console myself before fixing dinner.
     

Reconsideration

I am beginning to reconsider the subject of my book and giving it the title,
"Confessions of a Housewife".

Yes, the brief excerpts would read something along the lines of:

Confession One.
It has been a typical day at our residence.  Today alone I have managed to burn the tip of my finger, get my finger caught in the vacuum attachment, and spill hot wax on my pearl-white furniture.  If only  my sweet husband knew the amount of effort it took to have lunch ready and a clean house to come into; but, thank goodness I had the chance to clean up myself and the house before he makes his presence this evening.

Not only has it been a long day, but after 1047 days of marriage I officially bit the bullet.  Yes, April 2, 2014 marks a milestone for me. 

I know what you're thinking.  "I wonder what awe-inspiring thing she did this time?"  I mean, you have to be curious if I took the time to count up the number of days it has been since our wedding.

Yes, it is a monumentous occasion indeed.  Today, I ironed my husband's clothes.

No, it isn't that I was being stingy and ironing my own clothes and leaving his like a mother teaching their children independence and responsibility.  Actually, I am incredibly guilty of not having ironed a single garment in more than three years.  Thus, my sweet hubby has either gone out in public as a wrinkled, hot mess.  Or, he has ironed his own clothes.  In fact, if I remember correctly, he was the one that brought an iron into our house in the first place. 

So aside from airing out my dirty laundry (or clean laundry) for the world to see, I must admit one more thing.  It is not easy to iron a men's dress shirt!  Not only did I spend more than 40 minutes gently pressing out three dress shirts (after reading the fabric composition on the tag and making sure I utilized the proper setting), I also have to thank the "art of manliness" blog for teaching me the correct way to iron the sleeves.  Who knew?