Watch Out Marty Stewart

 

I have become a domestic goddess.  Yesterday, I baked bread.  Shout it from the mountaintops, Maria!  I MADE BREAD!  I just went on line, got a recipe, bought some flour, and voila!  Bread.  Bring on the bird flu.  I can keep my family alive with...bread!!!

You have to understand the context here.  Not more than a year ago, I swore that I would never be a cook, couldn't cook, didn't want to cook.  Oh, I made the occasional batch of cookies and, if pressed, could conjure up some Kraft Mac.  I've since then gone through a bit of a kitchen revolution.  But back then if someone had told me that on a cold, snowy November Sunday in 2006, I would make loaves of bread that came out smelling good and tasting delicious, I would have scoffed at them.  Loudly scoffed. 

I hardly recognize myself.

Because, friends, I ALSO made a delicious Strawberry Cream cake!  OH MY GOD was it good!  And I'm not the only one who thinks so.  Because sometimes when you make something, it doesn't really taste that good, but because you made it, you think it tastes good?  But not this time!  Eric and Addie shoveled it in like the apocalypse was coming, and we served it for dinner at our friends Chris and Toni's, and they shoveled it in, too.  Shovel, shovel, shovel. 

So, yesterday, I made three loaves of delicious bread and a beautiful, tasty strawberry cream cake.

AND--this is the kicker--I found a used pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans at Buffalo Exchange for a fraction of their retail value IN MY SIZE.  (I know I'm overdoing it with the caps, but I want to make sure to adequately communicate my enthusiasm).  Somebody can put me down now, and I'll die happy.  But not before eating more bread and cake and wearing my new jeans!  Whoopee!  Except if I eat too much bread and cake I might not fit in my new jeans.  Oh, no!

Right.  This is a parenting blog.  Well...

One dark cloud on the horizon appears to be that Addie may be giving up her afternoon nap.  I stick her in her room at the appointed time, but she is just not sleeping.  She is busy in there, singing, playing with toys, reading books, drafting executive orders.  But she is definitely not sleeping.  Which means that from about 4pm on she is a raging lunatic, crying at every little thing, and watching herself cry in the mirror, and forcing us to watch her cry in the mirror.  And, dammit, I need those few hours of toddler quiet.  Sigh.

Any ideas? 

The other huge dark cloud (and this is a biggie--so big I don't really even want to write about it because it's freaking me out) is that Addie's preschool might not be able to take her on Mondays next semester.  And I work all day Mondays.  So that's a huge bummer.  I'm going to think positive and hope that a solution becomes available.  But stuff like this can really shake me up. 

I need cake.