The Day I Stopped Making Cookies

I have no qualms about admitting my deficiencies as a homemaker. I grew up in a restaurant with my dad as my personal chef. I discovered my penchant for neatness and organization the day my mom cleaned my room for me because I had procrastinated long enough and I discovered that my homework was in the pile of trash –a little too late and had to sit out of recess the next day.

I kept my room pretty clean after that.

When I got married, my Mother-in-Law painstakingly wrote out my favorite recipes and gave them to me at my bridal shower. And for the first two years of my marriage, I tried to follow the recipes as best I could. We didn’t starve to death.

I got a bit better at the cooking –not much, but cleaning was passed on to a woman that came over twice a month and after too many botched attempts at the laundry, my ex husband took it over. When I quite my job to stay home and have the Kidlet, I figured it was time to become a better homemaker. I bought books by Martha Stewart (never cracked open), I hung out with a group of amazing homemaking women that made me (and still make me feel) grossly inadequate with all of their soap making, violin playing, French speaking endeavors, I “experimented” in the kitchen, I stayed home and raised my Kidlet. I made casseroles for potlucks and went to women’s teas. I made dinners from scratch and baked homemade Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies.

And one day, my life came crashing down around me and it stopped me cold. I could no longer pretend that I was Miss Susie Homemaker with a perfect life, the white picket fence and fresh baked cookies.

I went back to work; I started my business and I never made cookies from scratch again.

Some days I miss homemaking, but that phase of my life is over for now. Life as a single mom with three jobs and homeschooling prevents any semblance of the homemaking life. I do the best I can these days and in the very rare moments when we bake cookies, they come pre-made in a tube.

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