Everyone screws up every once and awhile. Some of us more often than others, but it does happen to all of us.
It happened to me.
It was one of those mistakes that you don't see coming, where you weren't thinking things through, and certainly didn't see the chain of events that would follow after you rectified the mistake.
So Little B starts kindergarten next week. I am fortunate enough that she gets to go to the school where I teach and the teachers are exceptional. This is not a dumb joke to compliment myself. The other teachers in the building are phenomenal. Hardly a days goes by where I don't consider how lucky I am to work with such outstanding people (despite the dent their mastery inflicts on my professional self esteem!).
When I went to enroll her, my also exceptional administrator asked which class I would like her to be in. I told her it didn't matter to me. Let's just put it this way. People should move cross country to get their five-year-olds in my school. Mrs. L and Mrs. S work kindergarten magic. Then she asked me if Little B had any Little friends she might like to be with. "Yes!" I responded immediately.
Little B and her little friend got tucked away into the same class.
I went home and shared the news, everyone was ecstatic.
Enter a Mama's kryptonite: WORRY.
I love Little B. She has a great imagination, an aptitude for music, a zest for life and Chocolate Soymilk. But she is also a follower. It is dreadfully common for kids this age to want exactly what their friends want, do exactly what their friends do, throw a screaming, crying fit when they can't see their friend.
All I could see were precious minutes of instruction flushed down the tube thanks to my child's antics...and of course torturous seconds of wailing from the time-out chair (torturous for the teacher that is, who would have to endure the aural damage).
So I decided to start out my journey as the interfering, annoying parent a tad earlier than expected. I mean, come on! The school year hasn't even started yet! I tucked my tail and asked if Little B or her friend could be switched to the other class. I explained I felt like a total irresponsible moron, who didn't take the time to think about the consequences of that decision I made in haste. Idiocy: it's a lovely badge to wear.
The change was made.
The emotional avalanche that I was expecting was merely a wintry drizzle, except for me.
I want a do over, not necessarily to make the right decision the first time, but to change my expectations instead of making mountains out of molehills. I sort of thought I had passed that juvenile, psychotic reaction phase. Apparently, not. I thought everone would be mad at me, everyone would feel bad because of me. Turns out I am waaaay more self-referential that I realized. Hello, junior high.
I still feel like a tool, for lack of better late nineties slang. Aren't I just prolonging the issue by rehashing it and writing about it? And isn't this blog supposed to be about dairy-free living anyway? Shouldn't I be talking about Little Bs bowl movements and abdominal distention?
I'm going to shut up now and make some cookies. Cookies make you feel better.
At least I can't interfere or talk when my mouth is full of dairy-free, gooey, chocolatey goodness.
NO WHINING CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
1 1/4 c. whole wheat flour
1 c. all purpose flour (I'm a realist, people)3/4 t. baking soda
1/4 t. salt
1 c. Earth Balance margarine (softened)
3/4 c. brown sugar
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup silken tofu, drained
2 t. vanilla
1 c. dairy-free chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 375°F. Use a Silpat mat or spray cookie sheets.
Mix together the flour, baking soda, and salt. (I sifted.)
In another bowl (I used my Kitchen Aide), combine the margarine, sugars, tofu, and vanilla. Beat until fluffy. Add the dry ingredients and beat well. Add chocolate chips.
I used a cookie scoop and placed the wads about 2-3 inches apart. Bake until the edges are brown. 10 minutes was the magic time for my decrepit oven. (Hint, hint, Mr. B)
Oh, and if you live in Kansas or anywhere else it is 105* at 7pm, you'll want to put your dough in the fridge between batches.
Cool on wire rack. Store in an airtight container if you don't eat them all while wallowing.
It turns out this is the best cookie I've ever eaten. I plan on abandoning my lucrative, but short-lived career as a bread maker and focus on cookies.
Forget Earth Grains. Otis Spunkmeyer better watch out now.