Discovering the Fetal Position

Moments in which I’ve felt like a domestic diva are few and far between.

I’m only mildly embarrassed when a visiting friend’s toddler picks up a dust bunny from the kitchen floor and asks her mother with great concern to identify the strange object. And green, gelatinous sludge from the avocado pie that went to rot in the garage refrigerator made the move with us.

However, there are some glorious moments in my past that have, at least temporarily, defined me as a homemaker extraordinaire. Such as when my husband marveled at the “Rocky Road Mallow Blooms” I concocted one evening. With extreme deference, he asked, “Are you sure you want me to eat one?”

Saturday saw yet another proverbial feather added to my diva apron when by 9:00 a.m. I had baked two dozen Chocolate Chip, Pecan, and Coconut Cookies and cooked a stack of nearly perfect Sour Cream Pancakes.



While my KitchenAid mixer was mixing the batter, I was whisking together the pancake ingredients. While I was dropping mounds of cookie dough onto the baking sheet, the pancake griddle was warming. While the cookies were baking, I was flipping pancakes precisely 1 minute after first pouring the batter on the hot, buttered griddle.

I was in my element.

After devouring the pancakes and speculating that they were possibly better than IHOP’s specialties, we delivered the cookies to our new neighbors, The Wraps.

My stride was confident. My chest puffed with pride. My smile bright. I was confident that they would enjoy the cookies as much as had. (We had to sample a few to make they were edible, of course.)

Until The Wrap's eldest tried a cookie, made a face, and stood at the side of the driveway, pulling out all of the chopped pecans. He then declared that the cookies were too hard for his younger brother to eat. And he didn’t ask for another.

As much as I wanted to defend my cookie to this future Gordon Ramsay, I decided it was best not to get into a petty argument with someone a third my age. Instead, Mr. Starlet tried to make light of the situation by assuring me that if they truly didn’t like the cookies, “they can just throw them away.”

Soon after, I discovered that the fetal position is quite comfortable.