Baking My Blues Away

I was just about to give myself a pat on the back. I had made it through the first four days of school without my parents or husband to help. I had juggled the sickness, the snow, the snow shoveling, the multiple workout times, and though I was tired, I was feeling pretty good. Jessie was coming to work with me at the shop and I even had dinner planned for us when I got home. I asked Christian to brown the five pounds of ground beef before he left for practice. “No problem, mom I got it” he says. I stop, I make him look at me and say the only thing you have to remember is to turn it off before you leave for practice. Isaac chooses this time to be a brat about shoveling the back porch and I leave for work with my heart rate elevated and reminding my self it is just one more day till the weekend.

On the way home in the car, I tell Jessie that I need to prepare myself for the kitchen to be a disaster, and the back porch not shoveled. If I anticipate it, maybe I will not lose it completely. I walk in the door and find that John has shoveled the rest of the driveway, has the wood stocked and Gus fed. I thank him profusely and promise to make him a fire so he can be warm to watch his basketball games. I then walk into the kitchen. It is actually fairly clean, I breathe out. I look at the stove and realize it is on. It is on at level 5. The meat on the very top is salvageable but there is an inch and a half of burnt crust that actually comes out as one piece like a thick vinyl record. I look out the kitchen window to the back deck and Isaac has done such a half ass job I want to scream.

I pour myself a glass of wine. I do my breathing techniques. I check my email and have grade updates, lets just say they did not help my mood. I Skype my husband and just lose it with him. Poor man, his wife is in his kitchen at home throwing burnt meat and raving like a lunatic. He can do nothing from where he is. He listens, makes sure no body is seriously hurt, and tries to calm me down. When I finish my rampage he asks for me to have the boys call him when they come home. He also mentions he has been feeling out of touch with them this week and its like they do not even miss him. I being the kind, sensitive woman who I am, immediately defend the very same kids I have been bitching to him about, and totally ignore his feelings. Scott very gently points this out, and I collapse into tears, knowing he is absolutely right.

The night does not get better from here as I hash it out with Christian and Isaac, deal with homework issues, all the kids needing the computer, and me needing to write my blog. The little pat on the back has turned into a fall on my face in a bank of cold wet snow. I know that since one glass of wine did not help it is either the bottle or bed. I wisely choose bed, and set my alarm for an early wake up.

It is a beautiful sunny morning, crisp and fresh and white with the snow. I make coffee and sit in the sun. Nothing is different from the night before, my kitchen is still a disaster, I still have bits an pieces of Christmas decorations scattered randomly around the house, and I am still the only adult for another thirty-six hours. I turn my face towards the sun and come to the conclusion the only thing to do today is bake. Bake brownies for John because he has been so awesome. Bake banana bread for the family that helped me with my tail light being broken and rides for my kids. Bake Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for another friend who went out of her way to help me. Make a little gift bag for the girls basketball team who were playing a home game to make it to the state tournament. Bake my blues away. I have found that in my darkest times if I can turn around and do something, anything, for someone else I will shake off the self-pity and get my perspective back.

So I baked, I baked a double batch of brownies, I made three loafs of banana bread and eight dozen cookies. I put on some good country gospel music and I sang and measured and stirred. Lila helped me, I licked every bowl and spoon. I cleaned up, got my kitchen organized, got Papa Murphy’s Pizza for dinner and before I knew it yesterday was just a bad memory. Sweet chocolate and savory banana bread, cookies and clean kitchen. Yes, I truly baked my blues away.


6 Comments so far
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I think it’s about being creative in the chaos, isn’t it? I plan to make bread, today, and for one blessed hour, I can think of nothing but kneading. Pure Sartori! x

Comment by skyonfire17

Thank you for reading my blog and taking the time to comment. Yes you are exactly right being creative helps to calm the soul! Enjoy your bread!

Comment by Kari

“… it was either the bottle or bed…” GREAT line.

Comment by Barb Stoefen

Thanks Barb, would be funnier if it was not so true

Comment by Kari

You are lucky to have such a caring husband and children that love you, and I know you appreciate them too, because you write about it. That is wonderful that you publicly acknowledge them. So don’t be hard so hard on yourself!

Comment by iliketoads

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and respond to my blog. You are right I am so lucky to have such an amazing family, and giving myself grace has been a lifetime struggle. The encouragement is appreciated

Comment by Kari

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