Baking. Or not.

Every once in a while I get it into my head that I'm going to cook everything from scratch, including all the kid's snacks and desserts. It's healthier and cheaper and feels like one of things I should be doing. The problem with this is two-fold: I don't particularly like cooking, and I'm also fairly bad at it. Especially baking. I don't know what happened. I like to blame my feminist mother for insisting that I spend my childhood learning to be a well-rounded person instead of perfecting my pies. Thanks a lot, Mom. So I suck at baking. It probably has more to do with the way I toss ingredients at a bowl and declare it "close enough" or the way I skip over steps (sifting? pshaw!) or just leave out any ingredients I don't have (who keeps cream of tartar around? Also, what the hell is cream of tartar?)

But even when I do manage to produce something that resembles a baked good and isn't burnt because I got bored and forgot there were cookies in the oven; they go unappreciated. It doesn't matter how many times I tell the kids how lucky they are to have a mother who slaves away in the kitchen to make them cookies (secretly I don't even believe it myself. I think most kids would rather have Twinkies and Oreos, but guilt trips are vital part of good parenting).

Boy informed me on my last manic baking tear that it isn't that they hate my baking. It's just that they actually like what I buy at the store. I think this was supposed to make me feel better? My husband's input was that he'll eat anything so whatever, (translation: "I am a human garbage disposal and will consume anything even remotely edible, including your crappy muffins.")

I guess I'll just make some homemade play dough with the flour now taking up space in my refrigerator.  ....crap, anyone have some cream of tartar I can borrow? Never mind. I'll just buy playdough at the store. It's better anyway.

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