I’m a big believer in a little bit of special all the time, rather than a whole lot of special just once in a while. It’s just how I am. Not that I’ll turn down the occasional grandiose gesture, you understand, but I am not a Special Occasion person.
I’m a Little Details person. Usually.
Needless to say, every now and then I trip myself up. I get a wild hair—I decide I Must Do Something Special—and nine times out of ten it results in an unmitigated disaster. Give you a kiss every morning? Sure! Do your laundry? Okay! Make your dinner? Absolutely! Plan something extra special? Um, please don’t get your hopes up.
My favorite part is that no matter how often I do this—a metaphorical blowing up of an otherwise perfectly fine situation—I KEEP DOING IT. As the kids would say, I’m “special.”
Anyway. As you well know, things have been a little rough ’round here, lately. Generally I am not a Valentine’s Day type, but why not? Why not seize this opportunity to express my love for my children, right? It’ll make them happy! It’s something where I can maybe give them a lovely memory!
So I decided to make pink pancakes for breakfast.
I am not going to link to the recipe, but it’s the Jessica Seinfeld “Deceptively Delicious” one, and as a friend said to me, “Well, yes, I think it IS deceptive for anyone to think THAT’s going to be delicious.” Because the pancakes ARE quite pink. Do you know what makes them pink?
Beets. BEET PUREE, specifically.
Do you know what tastes really, really wrong in pancakes? BEETS.
And it wasn’t just the taste (beety!), either. They were all gummy and weird. Her recipe calls for adding all this stuff to boxed mix, and I think what I used did not have all the ingredients she was assuming. Or maybe it’s just that SHE’S INSANE. But I don’t want to be passing judgement.
So at 11:00 last night I was making beet puree, and I got up early this morning and started making pancakes, and what I ended up with was a gigantic steaming batch of BEETCAKES with the consistency of of curdled jello. AWESOME.
Why, the men in the family enjoyed them SO MUCH, I was able to take this picture after they were DONE. Yes.
(Monkey took one bite and started to gag. Otto bravely soldiered through an entire pancake, then apologized profusely and went for a bowl of cereal.)
On the other hand, my darling daughter, She Who Finds Me Tiresome, kept reassuring me that they were FINE, Mama, they’re GOOD, they’re just, you know, a little different. I LIKE THEM, MAMA, she insisted. I told her she didn’t need to worry that my feelings would be hurt—I knew they weren’t very good.
“Look, Mama,” she said, finally, “I made you a heart.”
She certainly did.
Happy Valentine’s Day, and Happy Love Thursday, everyone! May you know the love that means watching your heart make sense of the world—sometimes with you, sometimes not—today and every day.