Unembattled

I swear this is my last summer as a working parent. I told Lars this yesterday. He is, apparently, disbelieving. But, running this household really requires at least one adult more present more often.

Take today for example. I forgot to make the pizza dough last night, so that meant I had to make it today. It takes 4-hours to rise, not to mention the time it takes to make. Because I need to leave her with the car during the day New Nanny picked me up from work, then the kids and I dropped New Nanny off. That's 20-minutes I had to subtract from pizza dough-ing. Then at home, I had to clean-up the tissues that Nutterbutter had pulled out of the box. Another 5-minutes negative from my dough-ing. I quick started the water for the yeast, but didn't take the kettle off until it whistled. Knowing it was probably too hot, I sprinkled the yeast anyway. After that, we whisked Petra off to gymnastics 20-minutes away, and then the rest of us off to Trader Joes. Home 57-minutes later, but the yeast wasn't foamy, it was just plain boiled. Now I was like negative 98-minutes! I had to start over.

But, when you're starting over and a little huffy, you can't help but notice the other things that are wrong about your day. For example, 6-bananas with fruit flies all around, very ripe and very splotchy. That means banana bread.

So, there I was, needing to double the pizza dough recipe and make the banana bread undoubled. Which is how we ended up with banana-y pizza bread.

And the kids. Something needed to be done about the kids. Soren was, and is, engrossed with the 4th Harry Potter so he was all set, but those little baby girls were something of another sort. I'm not one of those mamas who loves cooking with her kids. I like to do it my way, and I like to do it without talking. I don't necessarily like to let Annike over-stir the batter while singing her rendition of Sir Mix A Lot's "Baby Got Back", which I've heard at least 72-times today. Let me tell you, it got old after the first time.




So there I was, with Annike bumpin' to "Baby Got Back", trying to be more like one of those patient mommies who happily cooks with her kids.


Tova was wailing "I Love Rock and Roll". She leave out the part about the dime, skips right to the juke box bit. Hard on the nerves.


Tova also got pokey with the dough and stuck her fingers right in there. See that? How's a doubled dough to survive?


As if it wasn't crowded enough in that little kitchen, Nutmeg curled up in her favorite kitchen napping spot.


But, well, then they do little things like this. Things like holding the dough up, naming it Baby Ivy, and patting it on the back til it burps.

Then rocking it.


Or pretending to swaddle it.


And, cooing to it. Annabeaner is a great cooer.

It makes me sigh a little happy sigh. Just a little one.

We set that dough to rise on top of a heating pad, whispered sweet nothings to it and gave it a few gentle pats. I'll be darned if that dough didn't double in 1-1/2 hours! We punched it down, and then let it set for it's second rise, also done in 90-minutes flat! And then another improbable thing happened. Neighbor DJ came over, said something about being hot and then took Soren, Annike, Tova and Nutmeg back to his house to swim.

Suddenly, I had a coo-less and dog-less house (unless you count Maggie, but she's mostly cow and only 7% dog). Without so many helpers, without so much burping of pizza dough, I was able to get a few other things done.


And that is the story of how I was able to make 4-whole wheat pizzas, 2-loaves of banana bread sans fruit flies, and 2-dozen Viking muffins some with and some without granola, and clean up the kitchen, all in time for dinner.