~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~
Every Thursday, here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!
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A Sunday afternoon walk by the creek, with plenty of stones and acorns for throwing into the water and a bag of cornflakes to feed the ducks.
Clearly I need to feed my children more, since they both were chowing down on the (very stale) dry cereal the whole time.
Yesterday, on the other hand, was less picturesque. We will refer to it as “one of those days.”
We powered through and did our best, and I was feeling like we were going to make it. Dinner was simmering on the stove, there was backup dinner (aka leftovers) in the fridge in case dinner wasn’t ready on time (spoiler alert: it wasn’t), I’d gotten some real food into my stubborn baby, and Daddy was almost home. There’s still hope for this day, I thought. Let’s make a cake.
Pippo was happy to help, and we had added the flour just as Capt. P walked in the door. I turned my back for just a second, and my trusty assistant turned the mixer on. High.
The damage was indeed extensive (it would, eventually, take me most of an hour to clean up).
The poor kid was traumatized. He immediately burst into tears, and his little sister (sitting in her high chair in the middle of the kitchen, covered in her own dinner) began to cry in solidarity.
I can’t say I blamed her.
It did occur to me to Instagram the scene, but as you can see, my phone is sitting there in the middle of everything, covered in flour. But I couldn’t leave the scene undocumented. So I dusted Pippo off, told him not worry, grabbed my camera from the other room, and took a picture before I started to undo it all.
As I cleaned, I was explaining to my dear husband why this cake was supposed to have turned my day around, and he gently suggested that perhaps I should consider lowering my expectations for how much I can get done in a given day.
“But,” I objected (thinking of the four loads of laundry I had managed to get out of the laundry room but had not managed to fold, the unswept floor in the dining room, and everything else I’d left undone), “I think my expectations are already pretty low!”
“But maybe… they are not quite low enough,” he encouraged.
The good news is that the cake is indeed yummy, even though I think I underestimated how much flour I needed to add back in. Also, we made it with leftover roasted beets, which doesn’t sound like the most promising start for a cake. But you can’t argue with chocolate.