Lion and Magic Boy

So today was Serena’s birthday. I say “was” because for her, it’s over, though she truly doesn’t turn 7 until right…about…..now. That night was pretty memorable, about the way you remember the birth of all your children, and that particular one is emblazoned with the indelible memory of The Ex insisting we stop at McDonald’s on the way to the hospital (this after I’ve waited as long as I could, and after having made dinner for Nathaniel and his big sister Jess who Must Never Be Mentioned Here but who was 16 at the time of Serena’s birth. I, of course, was perhaps 18, being a gentle and delicate flower of 25 now), making the car reek with the malodorous smell of a Filet-O-Fish (IS there anything more disgusting than that on the menu? I ask you) and french fries, none of which were particularly pleasing to me at the time.

But you don’t want to hear Serena’s birth story, at least I’m pretty sure you don’t. Okay, just this one slight detail: it’s definitely the most intense birth I ever had, and at one point I was really into the screaming, as getting into the screaming took me down this nice dark tunnel-place where it was quiet and peaceful and there was nobody screaming in the room and having a damn baby, and then someone kept calling my name, calling me out of that place, and then I opened my eyes to see this face hanging over me, and a nurse said, “Karen, you have to stop screaming because there’s a woman having her first baby right across the hall.”

What.The.Bloody.Hell.Bitch.I’ll.Scream.If.I.Want.To

Was what I wished I had said. Instead, I meekly shut up and endured that goddamn pain in silence.

Bloody bitch.

So! Happy Birthday, Serena!

I am reminded, with my observation above of it still being Serena’s birthday though it is over for her, of starting now a “second shift” for the evening: the children are in bed for the night and this is my time for myself, or rather for the myriad things which I have either put off until now or can’t accomplish with children awake and nearby.

When I was last a working mommy and had an office and a secretary, there was another secretary there named Charlee. Now, anyone with the name Charlee (pronouced “Charlie”) must be thin and wiry, a long-time smoker, sardonic, and has seen it all but keeps it wisely to herself. That would be Charlee. Every day towards 5:00, I could hear her stand up and think about putting her coat on and pushing in her chair, and she’d say with a wry grin, “Time for the second shift!”

It took me a few years, but I finally figured out that she meant that she was headed home to her husband and family to cook, clean, and care for them the way she cared for the men she was secretary to all day.

Which is kind of how I feel, getting the children to bed and then my own work day begins. Again.

As there is absolutely no way to segue from that to COOKIES, I shall simply dive right in. These were concocted a few years ago for an earlier birthday of hers, but now I bring you…SERENA’S BEAUTIFUL BIRTHDAY COOKIES: OATMEAL.*
*[suggested in part by Finslippy's granola post which will make you laugh and hungry at the same time]

Begin by taking up your butter, which you have thoughtfully and purposefully allowed to gently soften on the countertop for lo these many hours. Your butter may be organic as mine was, but please make it unsalted regardless, and if your butter actually says “Margarine” on it, I cannot be responsible for your cookie results, no not at all. Unwrap said butter and place it gently in a bowl large enough to handle the entire volume of goods which you will be placing there.

Add then a nicely-packed cupful of brown sugar. I like the dark brown sugar, which seems to give an added smoky molasses flavor.

Take your Kitchenaid if you are lucky enough to own one and the counter space allotment to go along with it, or if you are me you have the tiny-but-cute mini Kitchenaid portable mixer, a definite upgrade to the cheap-ass mixer-thing given you on some jewelry-gift-giving occasion for which one year you received a weed whacker!, well take whatever damn mixing apparatus you own and use it to cream that butter and sugar together until it is what they call “fluffy”.

After that you will add your egg. I am sad that I didn’t think to photograph my lovely brown organic egg for you, and you of course may pamper yourself with a $.27 lovely brown organic egg also, or you may use an egg that suits your fancy. Try to keep bits of crunchy shell from marring the sugary-buttery loveliness in your bowl, and mix and mix.

Next there is vanilla, and if you’re me you will wish for some Neilsen-Massey Madagascar Bourbon Pure Vanilla which I believe Martha Stewart also recommends, though I wish you wouldn’t use her name in connection with mine. Add to that some salt and baking powder and baking soda, plus some nice cinnamon, as much as your heart desires. I like Penzey’s Extra Fancy Vietnamese Cinnamon. Yum, this is getting good, isn’t it?

Then you have the problem of flour. This calls for both whole-wheat flour and all-purpose flour. I promise I will not tell anyone if you use just the all-purpose flour. Then remove the mixer and add your oats by hand.

To your cookie sheet which you have of course neglected to grease and don’t need to, make tiny tiny cookies the size of marbles or so. These cook in only 5-6 minutes so do watch them carefully, but they are small like this so that you have the enjoyment of saying “I had only 20 cookies!” when in fact you had what would equal perhaps 4 “normal”-sized cookies. It does promote tediousness in the spooning process, but it’s worth it. Of course you are welcome to make your cookies any size you like, even as big as a baby’s head, but I can’t say I recommend it.

Take your cookies out when done and heap them on your cookie cooling rack. These cookies do not mind being heaped; I believe they rather like it. Chocolate chip cookies would mind, and sugar cookies may well never speak to you again after having been heaped, but oatmeal cookies are very forgiving.

I thought you’d be amused by photos of my progress:

Hmm, I just remembered to take a photo. Who knows, this could be today’s blog post! I’m almost done though, oh well.

See how much is on the spoon? That’s what you’re going for.

Did I not mention this part? This is what makes these cookies so much fun. Who cares that it’s only 10:30 am?

Oh, is THAT what that is? It’s not exactly the good stuff, but on the other hand it’s less than half the price of the good stuff. Other reasons why I like Amaretto:
1. A girlie drink that, though lacking in paper umbrellas, looks like some kind of manly Bourbon or (retch) Scotch or some such, and there may be a time when that comes in handy.
2. Sweet.
3. Tastes good.
4. The alcohol. Duh.

See how tiny they are?

Hey, what’s that big pot?

Oh, it’s just the pot from last night’s dinner. I am quite the housekeeper!

Look, a random shot of some things on my counter! French press! Coffee grinder! My great-grandmother’s old red tin cookie jar!

At least I don’t have to cook in THIS kitchen:

I so hate sharing a kitchen with Eric. He just leaves the oven doors open and keeps any old thing in there, pineapples, whatever, and throws things a lot. Temperamental chef.

Hey, do you want the actual recipe?

Serena’s Beautiful Birthday Cookies

½ cup butter, softened
½ cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tbsp. milk, or a bit more
½ cup whole wheat flour
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
cinnamon to taste
1 ¼ cup oats

Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Add beaten egg, vanilla, and 1 tbsp. milk; beat well. Mix together dry ingredients, and stir into the butter mixture. Stir in oats; add a bit more milk if needed. Drop onto cookie sheet by perhaps ½ teaspoonfuls (a bit bigger than marble-sized) to make delightful child-sized cookies. Bake 5-6 minutes at 350 degrees. [Cookies may look a bit underdone when removed from oven, but will continue to cook.]