This week I decided that once and for all, I am getting my pre-baby belly back.
I also decided that once and for all I was going to learn how to make a decent batch of chocolate chip cookies for Annika, the chocolate chip cookie lover extraordinaire.
Let me back up for a minute and tell you the story of my first attempt at making cookies from scratch.
Okay, wait. Let me back up even further and tell you that before Annika was born, I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. When I craved, it was savory. So I never had the compulsion to learn how to make cookies. So I didn’t. Ever try, that is, before she was born.
A few months after Annika was born, one Sunday morning I got up and told Toyin that I was going to, by god, make us some chocolate chip cookies. I felt certain that, being a mother, I needed to be able to make cookies.
So I whipped out my hand mixer and tossed all the ingredients in a bowl and began to mix. I mixed and mixed for several minutes. Then I stood there, perplexed as to why my cookie dough looked like cake batter.
I decided, what the hell, and I went ahead and dropped them on to the cookies sheet where, in the oven, they proceeded to spread out into each other and turn into one large cookie.
We ate it anyway. It didn’t taste badly. But it sure wasn’t what I had envisioned.
I was disappointed. I mean, I’m no whiz in the kitchen. In fact, if I attempt to throw ingredients together without following a recipe, it almost always end in barely edible food. However, I CAN follow a recipe.
I can make a mean enchilada. I can make a damn tasty lasagna. I even made jollof rice (a Nigerian staple) once that Toyin actually ate. And Toyin will not eat anything if he doesn’t like it. Not even to be nice.
Even so, going forward after the cookie cake incident, I went back to the old ways of buying cookies and cookie dough.
So what changed this week?
I think it was the fact that I am determined to get my figure back to some semblance of what it was before I had a child. I was not the sexiest woman alive, but I had a pretty decent body and I really like being able to button my jeans. I miss being able to sit down and not feel my stomach rise up and touch the bottom of my breasts.
So, why oh why does my determination to get my pre-baby stomach back coincide with my determination to make homemade cookies?
It’s self sabotage at its finest folks.
My recipe for sabotage: Find something you don’t like about yourself. Make a commitment to do something about it. Then find something to counteract all possible chances of succeeding. And voila! You have the perfect recipe for misery.
And just for fun. A dollop of self deprecation.
Here’s some pictures of my cookies:
|Cookie muffins. They don’t taste as good as you might think.|
The first batch, wherein I over mixed again. The chocolate chips pureed into mush and these tasted like semi-sweet cookie muffins. Not great.
|Crumbly, but taste like cookies.|
After I made the cookie muffins, I posted a help me make decent cookie dough question to my local AP mama forum and got a ton of great advice. First off, you don’t even need to use a mixer. What? That just seems crazy. Second of all, REAL butter folks. Not margarine. And let it sit out for at least 30 minutes so it’s soft and mushy. Why isn’t that in any of the fucking recipes??? I mean, if I knew shit like that, I wouldn’t NEED a recipe.
|Holy crap. They look AND taste like cookies. I did it!|
My third batch. Not pretty, but damn tasty.
Okay, I’m off to take a bike ride. See how this works? It’s the perfect recipe.