Recently, I did some baking/cooking with my daughters for a school project. I've been thinking about it a lot so I thought I'd write about it and preserve it in time.
First off, I was having a really bad day. I had been out of town for work for a few days. I came home to a sleeping house at nearly midnight on a Wednesday night. I woke up at six the next morning, before anyone else was awake and dragged myself to work.
Needless to say, I was exhausted and grumpy all day and although I was looking forward to seeing my children after almost four days without seeing them, the last thing I really wanted to do was bake.
After work, I managed to get into an argument with my husband (the result of limited communication opportunities while I was away) and I angrily went to three different stores to pick up the required ingredients for the recipes that we were going to be using.
It was raining. I was trying to navigate through grocery store aisles as I looked at my phone for the recipes my husband was sending me and I was getting phone calls on top of that. I love the rain, I view it as a blessing, but generally not when I'm trying to keep a sack of flour dry as drivers who've suddenly forgotten how to drive, splash through grocery store parking lots.
|This was what I looked like coming in from the rain. |
(Add in a big chick, subtract the crocodile.)
Please note that I don't always feel patient or positive, but I've learned that it's important for me to wait for them to ask for help.
When my daughters bake, it is both a high and a low for me. I feel great when we pull the finished product out of the oven and I can see the pride and delight in my daughter's face that she accomplished something. The low comes both before and after she pulls the finished product out of the oven. The low comes as I'm sitting across from her as I coach myself into being more patient and loving. I feel awful each time, wishing I was a more patient person. The second low comes when I see her finished product and know that I had to push myself to be positive about something that clearly makes my daughter happy and proud.
Each time I bake with my daughters, they do a little better, and I do a little better too. I feel like it's a test of my parenting.
One cool thing is that they choose to make things that I never would have thought of. Sometimes, we learn together.