WHY did I agree to this?

Why oh why oh why, on a school night, with five players needing to do homework, with 9 to 5 work needing to be done outside of the 9 to 5 framework, with dishes multiplying, and laundry threatening world domination, and dinner barely manageable, and a 6th grader needing to find a missing school book, and a 1st grader needing to go to the SuperKids website to read or some such nonsense (a site where she always manages to do SOMETHING to the screen so that all the words and images get HUGE and I can't get them back down to normal size and I try and I try and then give up and she has to start all over), with too too much already going on…

…WHY did I agree to let my 9 year old make bread?

We're not talking bread-maker bread, here.

We're talking knead the dough, knead the dough, knead the dough, let it rise, punch it down, let it rise, no breeze, covered in cloth, warm place, up high, NO BREEZE MOM, b-r-e-a-d.

It's about to go in the oven.

We shall see what happens.

With that much chaos, these loaves of bread have been thrown together in a distinctly haphazard fashion.  Measuring cups?  Not so much.  Thorough kneading?  Not so much.  No breeze?  Kinda breezy in that kitchen.  No order, no clean surfaces, no well-run kitchen.  Definitely not a Martha Stewart, Pinterest worthy evening; it was messy, loud, and stressful.  Just like my family.

It might taste terrible.  It might be delicious.  It was definitely exhausting.

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30 minutes later:

Lady E's Loafs of Love

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30 more minutes later, the verdict:  It was lumpy, lovely, warm and wonderful.  Just like my family.

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