Or Nigella, or Giada, or whomever happens to be your favorite domestic goddess person.
The Boy's school had a bake sale thing this past week. I made two kinds of cookies - chocolate chip and pumpkin oatmeal raisin - and was feeling pretty proud of myself that I managed to get some baking in and do my part for school spirit despite Hubs being away.
I spent the morning before the sale while The Boy was at school making the chocolate chip cookies then the afternoon making the pumpkin oatmeal ones, that also happen to be vegan(extra hippy housewife points for that at school), then popped them in some disposable storage things and labled them with a Sharpie.
Upon arrival at the sale I noticed two things - that at last half of the suff was store bought, so yay me for actually baking stuff, and that the stuff that was homemade was conveyed in pretty little baskets decorated with fabric and ribbons and stuff.
The old me would have rolled her eyes and scoffed at the tweeness of it all, but the new me... the me that is a mom and wants more than anything for her boys to see her as good at her job of being a mom felt like a hack. I mean, there was really nothing wrong with the inexpert presentation of my cookies, but it seemed a bit half-assed. And I'm embarassed to say that I'm embarassed, but I am. Sort of.
Rookie mistake that I'll try my hardest to learn from.
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