Every once in a while I strive to live up to the stay-at-home-mom stereotype - which, according to a certain now Secretary of State, necessarily involves the baking of cookies. It's one of the things about this new job I've gravitated to; Lord help you if you're subjected to my cooking (or cleaning, or . . .uh, general care-taking . . .), but I do enjoy my times with my KitchenAid mixer. Plus, I never found a fattening hobby I didn't like, neveryoumind any thigh-embiggening Operation MILF concerns.
Struck by such a whim today, I took to my cookie sheets and threw together an old favorite recipe straight outta my fancypants (as in $3) recipe binder. *cue impressed nods from the hyper-organized Life Planner Mom Agenda of End Times crowd*. Only problem is, when I get all domestic-like with the baking, my wee CEO goes about re-organizing the kitchen, e.g. the rest of the house goes to Hell in a (chic, obviously) handbasket:
|The Tupperware cabinet is the one non-babyproofed drawer we've designated for Master P's enjoyment - but this isn't exactly what we had in mind.|
Sure, these oatmeal chocolate chip cookies - recipe link below, BTW - are wildly tasty, but my kitchen time to date this week has included: one scorched toddler hand, and at least 3 ginormous messes I've had to clean as a result. My takeaway is that kitchen duties are obviously best left to others & tend to take time away from important things like repeat "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" viewings.
OK, I realize that precisely none of you are here for my baking expertise - why exactly are you bothering to read this again? However, for the sake of making sure y'all get your winter lard layer at the same rate I do, I direct you to where I posted the recipe lo these 3 years (!) ago. They're good, pinky swear - even Madam Secretary would approve. Today's result:
|Master P no longer eats so much as he forcefully shovels food (or toys, or toiletries...) into his trap.|
|The Pretty Pug following us around the house, searching for cookie crumbs.|