We are nearing the end of our weekend (while you may still have all of Sunday ahead of you). It has been one of most satisfying weekends I've had in a long time. It's not because we did much of anything; it was more the way in which we did things that has granted me the serenity to know the difference between this and other Sunday evenings that have made me grateful for Monday mornings.
It may have started on Friday afternoon when I decided to make a dish my kids had never eaten before. I knew I was treading on thin ice; my daughter and I had been on tenuous terms about, well, whatever. But I had a feeling if I didn't start cooking new things, my kids would forever be stuck in their three-meal rut. And I'd grow in my resentment of it.
And so I served up broccoli in a chicken cream sauce. Further, I tossed in a few mushrooms, too. After an initial stink, my kids actually tried it. My daughter even ate both broccoli sprigs with an audible "Yum!" thrown in for good measure. And she wasn't faking it because Lord knows she won't fake anything that has to do with questionable food.
The culinary miracles continued as I got a sudden hankering for cheese cake ~ not just any cheese cake. It would have to be a home-made one. So I whipped out a recipe and started baking. At one point, I could hear the silent satisfaction of my family as they read in the kitchen to the rhythm of my electric beater. It was as if they thought As long as Mama's got that thing in her hands, she's not boarding a plane any time soon. Two hours later I served up my husband with the most delicious cheese cake with mandarins I had ever made (I think it was my third in this lifetime). And today, after spending two glorious hours reading while my daughter had her riding lesson, I donned my apron one more time to make a lamb stew with curry because my husband, The Cook, wasn't home from the pool with our son yet.
It's not that I'm trying to trump my husband, who is the singularly most fabulous cook on the planet. It's merely a need I have to nest as the days grow dim. I even made a few Christmas ornaments with the kids this evening.
Dag. The power of slow brings magic at every turn. I am so very grateful for the beauty that has ensued because of it.
