(I know it’s only been three months since I said I wasn’t going to blog anymore, but here I am again. I think we all knew this would happen.)
If you don’t know me very well, you might not know that this whole baking powder thing is pretty incredible. You may remember I’m the same woman who once suggested to my son’s teacher that if I were to pack only the foods I thought my child would like, he would have nothing in his lunch box every day but a can of cake frosting and a spoon.
I was also the one who got the free dress day wrong so many times that I felt it was my civic duty to donate a stash of spare uniforms to my kids’ school. I called it The Laura Fulton Fund For Moms Who Can’t Get Their Shirts Together.
But running low on baking powder? Now THAT is a sign that the tide of my maternal expertise is finally turning. In a good way, for once.
I’m not sure how I ended up being so bad at the whole wife/mother/homemaker thing. I should have been great. My mom is a pinnacle of all that mothering can be. Thanks to her shining example, I used to think baked goods paved the road to true happiness in life.
In fact, I bought my first can of baking powder in 1993 when I was young and single and trying to impress a guy. Even then, a little domestic goddess was lurking inside me, trying to vacuum her way out. It had all worked out so well for my mother – surely if I walked a mile or so in her three inch pumps, it would all come together for me too.
Now, you only have to watch five minutes of Sex and the City to know that the commonly accepted way to lure men these days is with $600 shoes and slutty moves your mother doesn’t know about. But there I was, baking and trying to win my boyfriends’ devotion by doing their laundry. If you can imagine, it didn’t go well. I think my first can of baking powder lasted from 1993 until I finally threw it out in 2002. It took me 15 years to find a guy who was more impressed by chocolate chip cookies than $600 shoes.
But THIS can of baking powder, the one in my cupboard right now, is less than a year old. And it’s almost empty! Which means I’ve produced, like, hundreds of teaspoons worth of baked goods in the last year – all for the same husband and children.
It’s only taken a year of ironing and school runs and a complete lack of attention to the state of my feet, but my inner Queen of Domestic Bliss is free at last.
Let’s see what sort of trouble she can get into this year.