Yup, here we go again. I actually thought that baking with my children was going to be “fun” this time. Don’t get me wrong, I had “fun” moments in between the “Oh crap, that’s not sugar!” and “Don’t pick your nose and taste the batter!” spurts of crazy. I have been reminded that baking with 4 children under the age of five should come with a warning label stating “STOP! Do not attempt without a minimum of 2 adults per child!”, and “Don’t do it, seriously…just don’t…”. I have done “baking” with my kids where they all get random amounts of food related ingredients and they just go to town with no recipe necessary. That truly is all fun and games as I really don’t need baking for anything whatsoever…other then to entertain the kidlets while I attempt to fold at least 2 shirts before I am desperately needed to wipe a nose, or look at that thing they wanted me to see that has now disappeared, and is causing tears unceasingly…yes, that is my life…( and I wouldn’t trade it for the world!)
Baking with toddlers should be a new way to prepare soon to be parents for this crazy thing called parenting. Like everything with kids around, you have a goal in mind, but must twist, turn, tip and tango your way to that goal. You can find yourself experiencing every emotion imaginable all within a 30 second time frame. The mommy guilt pours in as you realize the scowl building on your face. You try to force it into a hesitant smile but it turns out just as mixed up as you are. Of course, the kids are feeding off all of this and eventually begin to do whatever they can to engage these strange reactions their mother is having.
Where am I going with this you might ask? Nowhere really…other than to tell myself that I am here, I am normal and I am baking with my kids. Now to stop aiming for adult goals and start creating something new… a time that reflects the kids in my home and not the magazine cover facade I thought life should be like. So with that…here I go…and as Ms. Frizzle always said, “Take chances, Make mistakes, Get messy!”( Although I don’t recall her ever having to clean up after those “messes”). Where is that crazy lady when you need her…
With Love ( and extra flour),