Although I did try to give it back to her a couple times and she waved her hand at me and said, "I never used it. At least you're getting some use out of it".
Getting SOME use out of it? Well, that might be the understatement of the year.
I come off looking like Supermom while the bread machine sulks in the corner, feeling unappreciated and unloved. I'll have to give it an extra gentle caress next time I use it. I wouldn't want it to crap out on me and make me look bad.
So....the other night, I made homemade pizza. Yep, dough from scratch and everything. I like to mix olive oil, italian seasonings and parmesan cheese in with the other ingredients, including white whole wheat flour and ground flaxseed so it can still be considered somewhat healthy (and the kids and Tim never suspect a thing!)
All I did was throw the ingredients in the machine and let it do all the work. While the pizzas cooked in the oven, our home was filled with such a wonderful pizza-licious aroma that it literally made my mouth water.
|Half turkey pepperoni/half cheese|
|Mushrooms and Olives|
|Another happy customer|
But I figured if I made them then I could control the ingredients (see, there I go again...total type-A control freak) and maybe even sneak in some ground flaxseed.
I talked up these cinnamon rolls to the kids ALL. DAY. LONG. I mean, nonstop talking about these damn rolls. Every 10 minutes, I was all, "These are gonna be the bomb, you guys!" and "OMG, I cannot wait until these are done...YUM!!!"
They were super excited....hell, even Tim was excited. And you all know he very rarely gets excited about anything (unless it's a spontaneous sexual encounter with yours truly, which doesn't happen often obviously).
After the first hour, I heard the bread machine beep. I thought, "Well, that's weird" and I checked the dough but it seemed okay so I left it alone.
Two hours later, the machine beeped again. The dough was done!
Except it wasn't dough. It was bread. Cooked bread.
"Uh, Mommy, that doesn't look like dough," one of the little smart asses commented.
"Hmmm, I don't know what I did wrong. Was I supposed to take the dough out when it beeped about two hours ago?" I asked, completely dumbfounded as I thumbed through the machine's manual.
Yep, apparently, that first set of beeps was meant as, "Hello...dumb ass. Take the dough out of the machine now."
The kids were in tears, snot dripping down their faces..."You said we were gonna have cinnamon rolls. You lied to us! You made bread instead!"
For crying out loud. I'm only human. Aren't I entitled to make a mistake or two....or six?
With some quick thinking, I said, "We can still eat it, even though it's not technically cinnamon rolls. Here, I'll just put the cinnamon sugar on the bread with some butter and we can eat it like that, okay?"
I smothered the slices of sweet bread with the cinnamon sugar and butter and handed them each a piece, which they promptly gobbled up.
"MMMMMMM," they all said in unison. "This is really good!"
After Cole finished his slice, he said, "Mommy, you make the best food ever!"
And that was enough to warm my heart, even though they were completely devastated just ten minutes earlier.
I'm going to attempt those damn cinnamon rolls again today...and you can bet your sweet ass I won't be mentioning it to the kids unless the rolls come out absolutely perfect this time!