I feel like freakin' Martha Stewart.

Sometimes, I think, "Ok, I can be domestic. I know how to cook (kind of), I can clean (when I feel like it) and I can take care of my child. Sure, no problem.

Then Nathan starts getting into everything and I'm like, "Oh, yeah...about that huge pile of dishes in the sink...I guess they'll wait."

See, I regularly praise mothers in my head that seem to make all of these things possible. If it weren't for my husband, I have no idea how I'd manage to keep our home even remotely manageable, keep the baby happy and have time to wash my hair.

Single parents everywhere, kudos to you. You, my friend, are a rockstar.

So today, I felt like Martha Stewart a little bit. I haven't yet read The Tao of Martha by my favorite author, Jen Lancaster, but I'm sure that's what she felt like when accomplishing little projects.

I need to read this immediately. I love everything Jen writes!

You see, yesterday, I was in Nathan's room and noticed a white spot on the railing of his crib that faces the bedroom door, so I took a closer look and discovered that he has been chewing/gnawing on it in the mornings when he's waiting for me to come get him.

We already have a padded-velcro bumper to put on the long side of the crib to protect it from his teeth, but not for the side, so I was like, "HEY. I CAN SEW! I'LL JUST MAKE ONE!"

Really, it isn't difficult to put together, so I know I can do it. Today, my mom, Nathan and I made a trip to Joann's to find fabric and then stopped for lunch on the way back. The plan was for my mom to come over and help keep Nathan entertained while I started my project, but she got called into work, so that didn't happen. But what would Martha do in that moment? She'd find a new project to embark upon that isn't quite as consuming so she can tend to the wee one, yes?

Nathan was in a pretty good mood when we got home, so I decided to start the blueberry scone recipe I mentioned in my post yesterday. It seemed easy, and it would allow me to stop and tend to Nathan as needed, so I got started.

Recipe:

3 cups Bisquick
2 tbsp sugar (I personally suggest doubling that. Keep reading for my explanation)
1 cup frozen or fresh blueberries
2 eggs
1/4 milk

Glaze topping:
1 egg (beaten)
2 tbsp sugar

Preheat the oven to 400.

The first step is to mix the Bisquick and the 2tbsp of sugar together, then add the blueberries and stir.

After eating these scones, I actually think you could double the sugar. My sister-in-law and I also discussed adding a little vanilla or even cinnamon to give extra flavor. I'm trying that next time.

Next, in a separate bowl (or if you're lazy like me, in the measuring cup, add 2 eggs to your milk and beat them.

Add the milk/egg mixture to your mixing bowl of other yummies and mix it up until it a crumbly dough. This is the part where I didn't really know what just how 'crumbly' is the right amount of crumbly. I didn't want to smash the blueberries, and the dough gets thick quickly, but just mix it until the Bisquick is moistened and most of it is kind of together.

And this is the point when Nathan started fussing. Then I remembered that he didn't get a full lunch when we went to lunch earlier and that he was probably hungry, so being the excellent mother I am, I propped him up with pillows, gave him his bottle and put Baby McDonald on the TV. I'm sure even Martha had do resort to this at times. Or she hired a nanny. Judge away, super-moms. My kid is happy.

He even has his own remote! He was actually shockingly happy there!

This is the point in the recipe where I stopped and read the directions about a million times and I'm still not sure I'm right, but they were good, so I don't care. This time, instead of channeling Martha and doing everything by the instructions, I channeled my talented (and brave!) sister-in-law, The Hazzardous Housewife and decided to make my own instructions.

It says in the directions to, "Turn the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and pat into a 9" round, about 1/2" thick pan."

Well, I don't know what "turn" in baking-land means, but I took that as dump it out onto your floured surface. I didn't want to put it on the counter, so I floured a cookie sheet.

Now, by "pat into a 9" round, about 1/2" thick pan" I'm thinking it should go INTO a pan. Like, a cake pan, but then a I read ahead and it talks about laying it onto an ungreased cookie sheet.

Then I was really confused. So they want me to put this dough into a round pan and dirty it just so I can throw it onto a cookie sheet? That's ridiculous.

What I think they mean is pat it to that size, so that's what I did, as seen below.

Look at that round dough. I'm talented and I don't need pans.
AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FO' DAT!

Up next is the glaze. Take an egg and beat it thoroughly. Then get a little brush (or I'm assuming your fingers would work fine, assuming they're clean and you don't mind the raw egg all over your hands) and brush (or rub) the egg all over the top of the dough.

Raw eggs always make me think of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.
"When I was a lad I ate 4 dozen eggs every morning to help me get large..."

Brush mode.

Ta-da!

 Once you've got it covered in the egg (which you won't likely use the entire egg, unless you're making it egg-stra eggalicious), you're going to use 2 tbsp of sugar and sprinkle the top.

This is where I decided to break away from Martha and channel Alissa (or Rachael Ray since she doesn't measure) and I was like, "Pffft...just 2 tbsp? WHATEVA, I'LL DO WHAT I WANT!"

So I just grabbed some sugar and sprinkled it. It was probably wasn't much more than 2 tbsp. I mean, I'm not trying to get diabetes or anything.

The next instruction is to cut it. I know, cut it before you cook? But yes. The dough is thick enough to keep the cuts, and I think it's because the scones are crumbly after they're cooked, so this gives a clean cut. It said to do it in 12 slices, but I missed that and did 8. My pieces were huge, so go ahead and be a Martha on that one, unless you REALLY like scones.

Bake at 400 for 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. It took mine about 16 minutes. After about 2 minutes in the oven, the whole house smelled soooooo good.

I broke the rules and it still looked yummy!

The next instruction was to serve it immediately with butter or jam, but I was taking it to my in-law's house, and I'm testing the recipe for a bridal shower, so was also curious to see if it was tasty cool, so I looked in my cabinet to see if I had something cuter than a cookie sheet to transport it in that wasn't my huge cake platter with a lid. Then I found this 9"-ish dish that was given to me a few months ago as a hand-me-down and I was like, "OMG, it'll fit perfectly!!! Yay!!!" and then I attempted a smooth transfer...and better yet, I succeeded the transfer flawlessly thanks to a fish spatula and a really wide spatula I bought at IKEA many years ago. I felt like Martha Stewart, Jen Lancaster and Alissa were all sending me happy good luck vibes at that moment because the scones fit perfectly in that dish and it looked and smelled amazing.

Everyone enjoyed the scones and I must say, they were pretty tasty. I will definitely be serving them at the shower I'm hosting next month. I think I'll try to form the dough into a square and cut the pieces into squares since that's a nice finger-friendly option.

After the scones, I threw together a salad and a batch of green bean casserole to take to dinner as well and managed to make it to my in-laws' house with my husband and child on time.

The domestic gods are on my side today in the world of cooking and childcare. Now if they'll add housework into the mix, I'll be all set...though maybe they should also give me some blessings in regard to sewing tomorrow. We'll see if I post about my success or failure.

1950's Housewi--what? No.

I've said before that if air conditioning was available in every home and building I went to, I think it'd be fun to live in the 1950's.

I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't.

I came up with the brilliant plan to have a large dinner for my mother and siblings last night. Not only did I want to cook them a nice dinner, I wanted to: try new recipes I had never had before and make the meal entirely from scratch. As far as timing goes, I really can't do anything but pat myself on the back for my good work. The main dish was coming out of the oven just a few minutes before Travis got home. I was a failure because I hadn't set the table in it's entirety, but at least I got the place mats and napkins washed and dried in time for everyone to get here.

The menu was oven-barbecued chicken, scalloped potatoes, green beans, homemade rolls with cinnamon butter, and cheesecake for dessert. The plan was to make the cheesecake before I went to bed on Tuesday night, (this is what I almost always do if I'm making cheesecake, I bake it the night before and let it chill overnight. It seems to set better if it has an entire day in the refrigerator) but when I opened the first cream cheese block, though not expired, it had gone bad. Probably because some jerk at the grocery store set it down on a shelf when they decided they didn't want it, and an idiot employee decided to put it back, because, you know, warmed dairy products are fine and all.

So, I woke up bright and early yesterday to run to the store and buy more cream cheese as well as chicken, since the grocery store I went to on Tuesday night didn't have any chicken. I'm still trying to figure that one out. I got in and out of the store pretty quickly, and immediate got to work on the cheesecake. It only takes a matter of minutes to get it ready, especially since I decided to make the crust the night before, and enjoyed what I would find to be my last minutes of sitting lazily on the couch while it baked.

Once it was baked, I figured I may as well do the scalloped potatoes, and then just warm them before it was time for dinner, since I only have one oven, and almost everything required using the oven at different temperatures. It was an easy dish to make, and once that was in the oven, it was time to get the cheesecake out of the pan, put it in the refrigerator and clean the kitchen up from everything so I would be able to cook everything else.

There's a chain of restaurants called Texas Roadhouse, owned by Willie Nelson. If you've ever been there, you've experienced their amazing rolls and cinnamon butter, and if not, you're missing out. A girl I met in college posted a recipe on her blog that was supposed to be the same as these rolls, and I decided to put it to the test. While the potatoes were baking, I embarked on my first-ever attempt at any type of homemade bread. The dough had to sit in the oven, (while it was off) for an hour to the yeast could do its job, and while that was happening, I realized it was just getting later, so it was time to my apartment in order before everyone arrived. My older brother and his girlfriend hadn't had the opportunity to see our apartment yet, so I wanted to make sure that everything was to my satisfaction.

Once the rolls had been baked properly, I was done cleaning the house, but it was time to work on the chicken, and in that process is when everyone started to call to let me know they were en route to my apartment and that I should be expecting them shortly, which led me to prepare chicken and clean up the counters as much as possible.

When everyone got here, they all said it smelled really good in the house, which is always a good sign. I started making the green beans, put the potatoes in the oven to keep them warm, took the chicken off the bone and started putting everything into serving dishes. By the time Travis got home, it was time to eat and if I must say, it was all absolutely delicious. The rolls were just as good as I expected. The texture was slightly different, but the taste was the same. My only disappointment with the whole meal was that the chicken wasn't quite what I was expecting in flavor, and that's always frustrating, but I think that the name of the recipe is what threw me off. It tasted almost like something you'd find at an Asian restaurant, not like barbecue, but it was still good.

I tell you all of this because by the time it was all said and done, my back was killing me and my feet were aching. I am not cut out to be a 1950's housewife, dressed in heels and pearls waiting for my husband to get home with a martini in hand. While it's a picturesque moment, I wonder if that ever happened as often as we see in the movies. Did Lucy always greet Ricky with such a smile when he got home each day? Probably not. She probably told him if he wanted a drink, he better make it himself, and that he better make her one while he's at it.

Moral of the story? I'm a 1950's housewife failure.