While I’m sure you can take these simple ingredients and run with them, I fancy it as much more fun to fold you into a blip on the radar of my marital bliss. Consider yourself now ‘involved.’
I take pleasure in all things domestic.
I nest year round— a mother bird constantly fluttering about.
I organize, I cook, I cull, and I clean.
I fluff pillows and pancakes and homemade whipped cream.
(Leave your ‘fluffer jokes’ at the door. And please, wipe your feet before coming in.)
As an achiever who no longer holds a significant title outside the home, (‘Unpaid Blogger’ doesn’t quite cut it!) my house is my kingdom to conquer. It is my place of work. It is where I create. It is where I set and push boundaries. Home is where I show up. (In my slippers.)
To some, I may present as a bored housewife; I no longer engage in that conversation. I like what I do and believe it provides great value to our family. I will no longer apologize for that.
It has since hit me though, like a brick through a speeding windshield, that my desire to dominate as a domestic diva isn’t deemed dire by the descendants of my domain. (What?!) I’ll explain.
Settled in the new house, we were hosting our first formal feast with friends. The plan was perfect. The palace was prepped—I shopped and chopped, cleaned and cooked, fluffed and fried. All was in place until the proverbial shortcake crumbled.
I am the proverbial shortcake.
Just hours till guests would arrive, I ran out to fetch fresh doughnuts—DESSERT. (Day-olds wouldn’t do.) This entailed three different stops to three different shops, as a dozen doughnuts were needed. Specifically, one dozen CHOCOLATE GLAZED DOUGHNUTS. (This is sounding very ’12 lemons!’ from The Break-Up, I know.) I checked each box to ensure accuracy. (Errrrrr, I checked the first two…)
Returning home, Brian and Jackson flipped each box open, eager to inspect the sweet treats inside.
Box one: “Ooooh, smells so good.”
Box two: “Do we really need this many? Can’t we eat just one?”
Box three: “Uh-Oh. Did you mean to buy these?”
Me: “Wait! What? What’s in there?”
As Brian turned the box toward me, my shortcake blew a fuse. I lost it!
I won’t divulge my range of words and emotions– my patience was gone along with my sanity. In an effort to ‘help’ the situation along, things got worse!
“It’s not a big deal,” they said.
“We’ll just eat these,” they offered.
“Nobody will care,” they declared.
(You read that right.) Well.
To me, it is a big deal. I care! For days, I labored. For this day, this meal, this event. It was not impromptu. It was not low key. It was, in fact, a big deal.
I peeled away in a fluster, livid that nobody (Brian) insisted on running back out for new doughnuts—to actually FIX the situation. I was angry, and I bitterly and loudly finished the final prep before everyone showed up. The guests arrived and all went well. They were likely oblivious to the kerfluffle of before; it all seemed—effortless.
It wasn’t. And it wasn’t over.
Days later, after things stewed (Recipe coming this Fall!), Brian and I sat down for a chat. It was a long time coming.
“You work tirelessly and with pride on your projects. You design, you plan, you gather, you create. If, while building your shed out back, the door was delivered and made of glitter instead of wood—would it be a BIG DEAL?”
“At work, let’s imagine they cut you off during the closing remarks of a presentation you meticulously prepared—would it be a BIG DEAL?”
“This is my work. I care about what I do. Just like you take pride in your products, your designs, your presentation of sorts, so do I.”
It’s all important if someone deems it so.
As for Brian-—he’s still with us! His fear of both Doughnuts and Me faded after just a few bites. He is kind and bright and understands that his intentions, although good, were misguided. Apologies were made, kisses were exchanged, and…this is a recipe post, not a trashy novel! Some privacy, people!
As for our friends—they are gracious and easy. They are happy no matter the meal, presentation (or lack thereof), and likely would hate to know I was troubled! Good company is key and they are the best. Sometimes it’s fancy; sometimes we’re eating take-out and yelling at the TV. It’s all about finding a good balance.
As for you— this was our blip, not yours! Gather your ingredients, (check the doughnuts twice) and for goodness sake, eat it with take-out while yelling at the TV—unless of course, you deem it important to fancy things up!
Chocolate Doughnut Strawberry Shortcake: Serves 4
4 Chocolate Doughnuts
Freshly Whipped Cream
Fresh Cut Strawberries
A Dollop of Self-Worth, Cooled
Slice doughnuts horizontally and set the top aside.
Pile a good heap of whipped-cream on the bottom slice.
Pile higher with cut strawberries.
Top with doughnut top & know your worth!
I’d love to hear about your ‘Dozen Doughnut’ moments! We’re all in this together, right?!