You know how some people stress eat? Pretty sure there must be a stress baking too.
Pretty sure I do that.
Something about following directions, whipping eggs in butter, and pouring a teensy bit of salt in the palm of my hand brings order where I actually have none.
Last night while seeing Grayson lull from side to side in last ditch effort to rid himself of the beast behind his forehead, I was in the kitchen clanking pans, melting butter, and measuring baking soda like it mattered.
1 tsp baking soda, 2 1/4 c. flour...where is that 1/4 cup? "Yes, Baby?"
"I feel seasick."
ahhhhhhhh add pinch of salt, coffee granules... "Oh Honey, I know you do. It will pass soon, please try to drink your Gatorade and lay back down." stir, lift, stir, lift, stir
"Mommy? Where's Abby?"
preheat oven 375, or is it 350? 350. This oven is so unpredict...
"Mommy! Where is Abby?"
"Oh, sorry. She's out walking with Daddy. She will be back. Are you worried?" stir, lift, stir, lift, stir, lift
"No. Just wanted to make sure she isn't stuck in the garage."
add 1 c. maybe a little more like 2 c. chocolate chips "Stuck in the garage? Really? Has that ever happened?" fold, stir, taste mmmmm, fold, stir, taste, ahhhhhh
"Only one time."
text everyone on recent calls list to tell them I'm making cookies for the nation, would anyone like some?