Veteran parents will laugh, but I’m just now realizing that I’m just not going to get everything done. Lucy naps twice a day now, and when those blue eyes finally flutter shut I am torn between what feels like endless priorities. Do I clean the dishes? Do I make a loaf of bread for dinner? Do I call my best friend in Austin? Do I take a few minutes to close my eyes and pray? And what about the laundry? Don’t her cloth diapers need to be washed? This list could go on and on.
Even now, as she sleeps inside the wrap that’s tied around my chest, I feel the urge to organize the clothes that are now covering our bedroom floor. There are breast pads flung around the house that need to be gathered and washed. There’s pastry dough in the fridge waiting to be baked. And yet I’ve decided to sit on my bouncy birthing ball, with my baby next to my heart, and write. I speak out loud as I type, and I imagine Lucy is dreaming about our dog, Margot, as my words float in and out of her dream consciousness. The movement on the ball makes it harder to type, but easier for her to relax and sleep. I find myself becoming less and less selfish as each new day of motherhood begins.
I’m already realizing that I’ll have to choose between chores and hide-and-seek. Between visiting my favorite blogs and exploring in the sandbox outside. We’ll go to the beach and I’ll leave my novel behind because we have a little girl who wants nothing more than her papa and mama to hold her in the waves. They will be small sacrifices with rich rewards. Her childhood is priceless.
And yet I’m finding ways to combine her happiness with my own personal passions. Like baking. I remember standing in my grandmother’s kitchen, watching her create something out of nothing. Magic is the only word I could have used to describe it. I remember playing with pots and pans as my mom cooked crepes. She’d let me experiment with flour and water, and there was nothing more thrilling than stirring that gray soupy mixture. And so I’m sure that Lucy and I will have endless hours of fun in our kitchen. We’ll make brownies and cookies. We’ll learn how to create a rich chicken noodle soup. I’ll teach her to love vegetables because they’re good for you AND taste delicious. We’ll sample cheese from the alps of Europe. And we’ll talk about our days as butter browns on the stove.
My daughter is quickly becoming my greatest blessing and my greatest lesson.
We made these cookies together last week for our neighbors. Thick and chewy, studded with chocolate chips and oats, they were easily shared and enjoyed by all.
Double Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies
1 3/4 cups flour
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
12 TBSP butter (1 1/2 sticks) melted and cooled
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup quick oats
In a medium bowl, whisk together your flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
In a large bowl, cream together your melted and cooled butter with your brown sugar and granulated sugar for 2-3 minutes (longer if creaming by hand). Add in your egg and yolk, cream until fully incorporated into batter. Stir in your vanilla extract.
Add your dry ingredients and mix together until combined. Stir in your chocolate chips and oats. Cover your bowl tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rest in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, preferably overnight.
When ready to bake, remove dough from fridge (if chilled for longer than 1 hour, allow to sit at room temperature for 20-30 minutes.) Preheat your oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.
Scoop out batter using a 1/4 measuring cup. Divide dough into two smaller balls and place on a greased or parchment-lined cookie sheet. Bake in a preheated oven for 12-16 minutes. Remove when cookies are just about to turn a light golden brown (they will appear underdone, or soft). Allow your cookies to cool on cookie sheet. (I always take my cookies out of the oven well before they look “done” because this helps them stay soft).
Store any leftover cookies in a zip loc bag with a piece of bread to retain softness.
