Holiday Baking Failures

Christmas Day has come and gone, and I am still working my way through holiday cards and baking. The baking, alas, has not gone well this year. My gingerbread fell, leaving a crater perfect for a huge dollop of whipped cream. Then my mini pound cakes overflowed and the batter fell onto the heating element, filling the kitchen with the smell of burnt cake. I stood in the kitchen like an idiot with my hands over my mouth as my husband scraped the batter into the middle of the oven floor, where it promptly caught fire. He smashed out the fire with the spatula while my daughter cheerfully suggested throwing water into the oven. If that wasn't bad enough, on Christmas Eve, I put baking powder instead of baking soda in the chocolate chip cookie dough. I added the bakig soda in a lame attempt to fix things, but the cookies melted and spread into each other in the oven. They ended up tasting like gooey chocolate chip flavored crackers. My younger daughter, who evidently has not yet developed any taste, enjoyed them immensely although she ended up covered in chocolate. I decided maybe the mess would work better as bars, so I now have squares of Cookie Disaster for dessert. No one on my list has received baked gifts or cards yet, but I remain ever resolute and optimistic, holding out for the Feast of the Epiphany as my new deadline. Next year, I'm sending Valentines.

90-Day Goals: Day 32 - Discouraging Moments

One of the most important aspects of pursuing a goal is handling discouraging moments. We all have them--Lord knows I do. This past week I felt so down about everything I abandoned my evening routine and crawled unwashed into bed leaving the dishes in the sink and the floors unswept. My nine-year-old had forgotten part of her homework at school and could hardly remember do finish the part she brought home, so taken was she by the flickering light of Disney Channel or even PBS Kids. My three-year-old behaved as if she had grown springs on the bottoms of her feet--and on her bottom, judging from the way she kept leaping from her chair at the dinner table. The soup spilled and the bowl ended up on her head. I called her name and she fled pell-mell in the opposite direction. The tiniest difficulty sent her into a screaming rage. I felt a little bit like screaming myself.
I can't live like this, I caught myself thinking, I can't handle this. It wasn't until later that I realized I'd forgotten that I was receiving the energy I was giving out, responding to my own negativity. I had forgotten the positive messages I was supposed to be showering myself with. I'd forgotten that I have the power to change myself when I can't change the situation directly. If I can just stay centered and see the discouraging moments for what they are, I can let them pass. If I work on myself, then I can weather the storm. Sometimes I just need those moments with my head under the covers, hiding from the world, gathering the strength to face it on my own terms. And if nothing else, at least I'm not wearing my soup bowl on my head. Not yet, anyway.