Little kids, rolling pins, clouds of flour floating in the air. Does this scene of baking bliss (and Christmas chaos) sound familiar to anyone?
Now… I’m not one to… ahem… sugar coat the experience of parenting. It’s hard work! It’s a twenty-year job without pay! But staring at my (mini) baking cups and (mini) cookie sheets in my (mini) current kitchen, I have to chuckle. There is almost no room to do much basic baking much less engage in more elegant endeavors.
Besides, after cleaning, laundry, more unpacking (will it ever end???), picture hanging, broom duty, and a modicum of decorating (yes, my holiday “shoe tree” I keep tweaking), my wee-woman wizardry is ready to call it a day. But one or two dozen Christmas cookies? Simple ones?
That is manageable — maybe — all hauling-lifting-bending-reaching-hammering-folding-sweeping aside.
Earlier today, as I glanced at my ingredients in the fridge and petite pantry (also known as a short shelf), and as I lay my little fingers on my red and green sprinkles, I couldn’t help but think back about 15 years and ask myself, “Did I ever actually bake with my kids?”
Certainly, I baked. My little ones milled about. They peeked. They sniffed. They nibbled. But did they bake? Is my only recollection of them in the kitchen really just my younger son with his assortment of egg dishes and fabuloso grilled sandwiches in his adolescence, and my elder son’s amazing apple sharlotka following his college year in Switzerland?
Since I couldn’t recall my boys covered in flour or frosting — lathered in leaves and mud (and excuses) is another story — I went so far as to text one of my sons (overseas) and pose the question: “Did you guys ever actually do any cookie baking with me at the holidays?”
“I don’t think so,” he answered.
Hardly too large a black mark on my mothering skills, right? But thinking back to all the activities and noisy, messy parties that took place around the kitchen table, I also thought back to my own childhood and wondered if I had actually baked cookies with my mother.
As a daughter in more “traditional” (albeit transitional) times for women, that would be a reasonable scenario to imagine. But I can’t drum up any mental image of baking with my mom, though I definitely remember being allowed to lick the bowl with a large spoon and getting a disapproving look when I did so with my finger.
On the other hand, I have clear mental images of an annual baking blitz when I was in my late 20s and early 30s, creating custom holiday cookies with two (equally mischievous) friends. Our specialty? We (gleefully, artfully) produced delicious sugar cookie nudes complete with all manner of anatomically correct details. All very time-consuming to make, mind you. But it’s amazing what you can do with sprinkles, dots, and jimmies… (Incidentally, those custom cookies were wildly popular among friends.)
Naturally, more standard styles were part of my regular repertoire of seasonal goodies. (I have oh-so-many marvelous cookie cutters that I can’t find at the moment… trees, leaves, stars, hearts, and an assortment of animals.) Wherever could they be? (Maybe I’ll locate them before next December?)
All baking bonanza lapses aside, I can’t help but look forward to my kiddos coming “home” to my latest new abode and making memories — new memories — here, now. One has already asked if he needs to rent a car and I assured him that I’m in a walk–everywhere area in the city, near restaurants and museums and shops and all kinds of entertainment, including walkable entertainment for my millennial sons. (Ah, the trade-offs of that mini-kitchen and a generally smaller space for the advantages of a convenient location!)
So… With only a few hours of daylight left, a few silly little gifts to finish wrapping, more laundry to fold, beds to make, and other motherly duties that are calling my name (sigh), I will confess that it is not entirely with chagrin that I tend to these tasks. I do so with love and anticipation, remembering so many years of pleasure at parenting my beautiful boys — soon to be “home” for the holidays.
Meanwhile, there’s nothing like an easy sugar cookie recipe for Christmas that anyone can manage — mini-kitchen and all. (Personally, I like to add a bit of lemon extract rather than vanilla, or even a few drops of lemon juice on the surface of the dough before baking. Et voilà! You have lemon sugar cookies!)
Any baking bliss (or blitz) taking place around your parts? Any kitchen conundrums requiring you to cook up creative workarounds? What are your plans for the holidays? And if you’re on your own (I have been in the past), what indulgences might you allow yourself to enjoy? Do tell!
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My grandma was the one who baked, and we would all “help.” How she corraled 8 grandkids and still churned out so many cookies, I don’t know. And always in good humor. At least that’s what I remember.
Maybe you didn’t bake with your kids, but you did other things. Baking with kids requires low expectations, high tolerance for mess and lots of time. It’s not for when you want to serve company. It’s about them doing science experiments, learning hands-on how you put ingredients together in a way that results in food. It’s great as a entry into other kinds of cooking, because there’s so much to do before anything goes into the oven, and it doesn’t involve knives.
Ah… a baking grandma! Delightful! (Yes, there were science projects (and art projects) a-plenty… but not usually while baking.) ?
Merry Christmas, D.A….Have a great time with your Boys! ??
A very merry Christmas to you too, Leslie! ? And a happy 2019! ?