Fresh Bread

 This is bread:

 

 And so is this: 

The end.

Just kidding.

Seriously, bread-making is my new hobby. I've been baking bread twice a week for the last month, and I miss it on non-bread-making days. Kneading helps my psyche, and it's not so bad for my arms, either. You should see my triceps! Or biceps? Whichever.

I'm going to write a book about bread-making called The Therapeutic Value of Bread-Making in Everyday Kitchen Settings. Catchy, right?

(Title suggestions?)

For today, I think I'll just focus on the calming effects of bread-eating.

*Pretend I took a picture of warm buttered bread and inserted it here.*

Mmm...

Oh, and here's the recipe, in case you're in need of therapy: Memo's Brown Bread

Joy to the world,

Becki*

I posted this with Beauty and Bedlam: Tasty Tuesday!

And: Time-Warp Wife

Also participating in Feasting in Fellowship Fridays! 

Some of You

Yesterday I was thinking about myself (which you never do, but bear with me just this once, ok?), and I realized something. When I walk through my house, all I see is a multitude of things undone: Need to sweep again. Pick up granola bar wrapper. Hurry and clean up cereal before someone smashes it. Well, scratch that. Vacuum smashed cereal crumbs.

It came to me that something's wrong with that -- all that focus, I mean, directed toward making our home into Ye Olde Museum.

Around here, two little tiny folks chase my heels. Today my husband The Preacher said, "I think it's cool the kids follow you everywhere you go." Hm.

And so The Preacher made me think of someone. Way back in Sunday school, didn't we learn about a guy with a bunch of (kinda clueless) people trailing after him all the time? People who asked him a bunch of questions and then fussed over the answers? People who argued about who was his favorite? People who didn't see the big picture - but chased His heels all the same?

This morning, I told my son it was time to pray; out of the blue, he declared in his Little Preacher voice: "Just like Daddy said at church, 'Some of you been prayin', some of you been workin', some of you been usin' the potty, some of you been playin' with toys. But did you ask the Lord?'"

I'm not sure what made him think of that (and I'm absolutely certain he wasn't quoting his daddy verbatim!) - but it's food for thought, isn't it? I've been prayin' and workin' and . . . y'know, all that. "But did you ask the Lord?"

So I think it's time to shift my focus. There's something amazing hidden under this parenting thing. If it takes a little digging to find it, then I've got my shovel ready. Tomorrow's a new day! *smile* ;)

(And with that, friends, I'll see you Monday! Well, unless something ridiculous happens tomorrow, in which case I'll be forced to keep you posted.) 

--Becki

Shared here: Time-Warp Wife!
And here:

The Big Kid Myth

My son turned five recently, an occasion for the history books. In life, most years pass with little fanfare. But some - some precious few years - mean something.

Five is one of those years. Little Man knew this intuitively; he asked me tonight, "Mommy, did you make Special Sauce for me back when I was four, or just when I was five?"*

When curious strangers discover my son's age, they ask about kindergarten and teachers and schools. Strangers want to know whether my son can read or spell his name. I laugh and tell Strangers that Little Man can read and write, but his birthday made him too young for kindergarten. And inside I think:

How did this child come to be five, anyway? Five: The year when people don't ask about binkies and sleeping through the night, but reading and writing. I promise you, this was last Saturday:

And this . . . this was tonight.

Before my mama heart breaks in half, I comfort myself; Five-Year-Olds still wear Superman pajamas. And when they're feeling a little cruddy, they still show up on the couch, where they still fit just right snuggled into Daddy's arms.

So for now, I'm not believing the hype about Big Kids. As long as I can still fit my arms around his neck, he'll be my Little Man.

Even when he's taller than me next week.

*Special Sauce Exclusive Recipe: Mix mayonnaise and barbecue sauce. Voila! ;) 

-Becki

My First Official Recipe Post!

Ok, so cooking blogs are big, aren't they? (You: "I know, right?") So in an effort to keep your interest, I'll share a real-life home-cooked disaster recipe, which I may or may not have cooked up this very evening.

Ingredients:
1.5 lbs. ground beef
1 can tomato sauce
8 oz. water
chili spices (No need for measurements; trust me.)
trash can

1) Brown ground beef; drain. Return to pan.

2) Add tomato sauce to beef, but be too lazy to open entire lid. Instead, allow contents to drizzle out of a small opening. (This is important. Trust me again, friend.)

3) Finish opening empty can's lid. Turn on water and prepare to fill can.

4) See this:

5) Cry. Shout. Pray for mercy.

6) Forget the water. Forget the spices. Throw your hard work into the trash, and serve your family carrots and fish sticks. The end.

Now isn't cooking fun?

Truth-in-blogging Disclosure: No one could make this stuff up; welcome to my kitchen. 

--Becki

Danger: Or The Top 5 Reasons This Blog Took So Long

In case you were wondering, I jotted down a few excuses reasons for my procrastination. :) Enjoy? 

5) The Expert Expectation: When I read blogs about cooking or mothering, I hear the writer's voice in my head. She sounds just like my first grade teacher, an expert who knows lots of things I just don't. And naturally, she's perfect. Her hair and nails are done, and when she takes a picture of her children, they don't have breakfast syrup stuck to their dinnertime chins.

But in the interest of truth-in-blogging, I state for the record: I'm not an expert at anything. My hair is a wreck, and my kids fell asleep with syrupy faces. (I think we like it that way.)

4) Picture Imperfection: Everyone knows the best blogs include beautiful pictures, so-called amateur shots taken with pricey cameras by experienced mamas. Picture-less blogs are so dull!

The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing But the Truth: I'm no photographer. Thus --

It's really a shame, because my kids are so cute. They DESERVE a mother who can take amazing pictures. Hope they don't head off to find a mom who can do them justice. . .

 

3) Non-Thomas-Aquinas-ness: If you're a Christian who blogs, then naturally you'll be a Christian Blogger. You'll type out deep spiritual workings in poetic symbolism, and you'll post hard-hitting YouTube blurbs from favorite preachers. Definitely, for sure and for certain, you'll never explore topics like dirty socks, or your inability to enter your laundry room without crying.

My husband's advice to me? "Just blog about life." Blogs exist by the hundreds for spiritual exercises, and I'm intimidated by the thought of adding to the mix! So here I'll write about life as it comes, in days and months and years; and if "to live is Christ," then I'll pray our journey brings Him joy.

2) Blog-Speak: Bloggers say strange things. Case in point: Have you ever heard someone in real life use the word "Ahem"? Yeah, me neither. Or this: *Smile*? Creepy!

Resolved: No ahems. And I'm never going to use the word "blogosphere" again. Ever. *Smile*

1) Blogger's Block:  I already have it, and this is my first post. What does this mean about me? Will I make it in life? Am I a mess? Do I have What It Takes? Can you hear me now? Hello??

Anyway. For now, my plan is to write, and I do hope you'll read. This is our life; welcome to the adventure!

--Becki