Hubster left for two weeks on Tuesday. Which, if you're a mom to a two-year old boy, is the equivalent of getting thrown into Dante's Inferno.
The day that dad leaves, Rowan turns into a complete mess. He cries intermittently throughout the day for no reason, he takes his frustration out on the dogs & acts really aggressive, he refuses to leave my side at bedtime, and he barely eats.
But, today is a new day. He's sitting in his high chair, happily eating his lunch while I type... fresh pineapple, yogurt, and a slice of the banana bread that we baked on a whim on Tuesday.
[And yes, I really do mean "we." Rowan is a great helper with baking. Somehow he always ends up covered in flour and batter, but he stirs and mashes like a damn champion.]
The thought of single parenting for another two weeks, compiled with the hate-filled emails I've received from readers of my pro-feminist post (OhMySoul, THE HATE. Seriously. I think I should publish some of the emails I received), on top of my book proposal being done & in the hands of my pastor (I asked him to look over it with theological eyes), my stress level was through. the. roof.
So, what do I do when I'm stressed beyond measure and feel completely frozen to all productivity?
I bake a lot.
Yesterday, it was two full loaves of banana bread and 2 dozen cookies.
Baking is much like a science to me, unlike regular cooking. It requires diligence, exact measurements, patience, and a step-by-step process... all of which are intensified a bit with baking instead of cooking.
I've come to learn that I stress-bake because it's an activity that I can control. I can follow a recipe, have order in my kitchen, and everything comes out okay.
Unlike the rest of life, which is harshly and frustratingly unpredictable.
I bake because I desire control... especially when my own emotions seem to be OUT of control.
I don't know if it's a healthy coping mechanism or not.
But I reckon it's better than whiskey.
So, when I get stressed, I'll stick to baking... much to the dismay of my hips, but I reckon my liver will thank me later.