Crust + Too Many Sorry's

The boy’s are in baseball camp this week and I’ve been preoccupied with other life things and so the poor middle child, my daughter, has been bored. Not really bored so much as left alone. So this morning, after smelling the bowl of plums, I decided we ought to bake something. Why, when the forecast projected a high of 94 degrees I’d think that turning on the ovens would be a good idea is besides me. I just knew that I needed to bake and she needed to bake because we both needed whatever kind of preoccupied calmness (medidtation?) it would offer.

I had her prepare all of the ingredients and set them out on the counter before we dove into making the crust for the galette. It’s a pretty simple recipe—flour, cold water, cold butter—mixed together by hand in a bowl. So we put in the flour. A little spilled onto the counter. “I’m sorry,” she said. Not a problem. “There’s no need to apologize.”

I asked her to retrieve the measuring cup she used for the water. “I’m sorry,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen sink. I say nothing in response.

I show her how to cut the cold butter into tiny squares and then hand her the second stick to do on her own. The knife slides through but at an angle, creating a sliver instead of a straight cut through. “I’m sorry.”

I put the knife down and looked at her. Told her that she hadn’t done anything wrong. That she shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for little things like this. This is not a big deal. This does not require an apology.

I jumped into memories, trying to see if I could hear myself uttering unnecessary apologies. How much of this is nature? Did she learn this from me? Absorb my perfectionism and people-pleasing through osmosis while in the womb? Because once she was born I set myself on a mission to unlearn this behavior knowing that I didn’t want to raise her to be a passive woman. I wanted her to be able to stand in her truth and in her voice, advocate for her own needs and desires with confidence and without fear.

The ability to recognize mistakes and then account for them through apology and changed behavior is a very real and necessary capability. But how do we learn (or unlearn) what constitutes the need for a genuine apology? How egregious does the error need to be? Are there different levels of apologies? Some sort of internal matrix we learn to use in order to gauge response? If so, how do we learn it? How do I teach her—and my sons—how to use this system for determining when an apology is necessary? Does it just come with age and wisdom?

I have no answers, only more questions. Maybe we’ll figure it out when we make the next crust.

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Tart & Pie Dough

Recipe via The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup ice-cold water

• 2 cups all-purpose unbleached flour

• 1/2 tsp salt (omit if using salted butter)

• 12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold butter, cut into small (1/4-inch) cube

To Make:

Cut or work the butter into the flour with a pastry blender or your fingertips, leaving some of the butter in fairly large, irregular pieces. This will take 1 or 2 minutes. Pour in three quarters of the water, stirring all the while with a fork until the dough begins to form clumps. Keep adding water if needed. Divide the dough in two, bring each part together into a ball, and wrap each ball in plastic. Compress each ball, and then flatten them into disks. Let rest, refrigerated for 1 hour or longer.

A Thriving Summer

I kind of just realized that summer is almost here. I mean, I knew summer was coming because the kids started coming home with less and less homework and the temperatures have been creeping up and we’ve been eating popsicles almost every afternoon. But it didn’t really sink in until this morning that next week is the last week of school. Not only is it the last week of school but they get out early each of those 4 days. (Insert panic.) If you’re a mother of school-aged children, then you’re familiar with the combined feelings of relief and fear that comes with planning a summer routine. Then, of course, add in trying to build your business, which you run from home, which is now suddenly full of children all day long for 8 straight weeks.

I’m so ready for the relaxed schedule and the ability to do things at our own pace but it also means finding things to do that don’t require too much screen time, too much mess, or me spending too much time in the car. Here’s the other thing: I don’t want to have yet another summer where I wonder where the days went. Where I look back and find nothing worth remembering. Not that I feel the need to fill the summer with blockbuster events every week, but I do want to be intentional about crafting memories for myself and the kids. I do want to feel like we accomplished something both individually and together, no matter how small. I don’t want to just survive, I want us to thrive.

How am I going to thrive summer?

1. Establish routine. I’m digging in my bag of old Waldorf-inspired resources and implementing a weekly and daily rhythm. The four of us will all function better when we know what the expectations for the day and week will be. We’ll have weekly trips to the library, pool, and beach but layer in plenty of open space for rest, spontaneity, and for mommy to work.

2. One Family, One Book. In the past our schools have done One School, One Book, a reading initiative where every family is given one book to read at home that they then discuss at school. I love the idea of bringing this into our summer plans. One, this will ensure that everyone is getting some reading in, and two, it provides another way for us to connect. At the top of my list are James and the Giant Peach and The Phantom Tollbooth.

3. Family Vacation. I’m really disappointed that we won’t be able to travel to Louisiana to spend time with the grandparents. One of the things I didn’t account for in this move is just how much more expensive and infrequent direct flights are from San Francisco to New Orleans but we have to make the best of it. I’m hoping I can distract the children by making a trip up to Anderson Valley in Mendocino County to see another stretch of coastline, eat some cheese, and drive through a redwood tree.

4. Popsicles. Word on the street is that this particular part of California is really hot in the summer so I’m devoting a significant portion of the summer grocery budget to popsicles so that we at least feel a little cooler on those super warm days. Besides, doesn’t everyone feel better after eating a popsicle?

At first, I thought my list needed to be much longer but the reality is that I still believe in simplicity and ease. By using just these three survival—nay—thrival techniques, I’m hoping that the summer will be fun, but not over-done, full without being overwhelming. Mostly, I just want to be present. And I’m hopeful that this little list encourages and supports that desire.