Healthy living, healthy parenting, healthy gardening. One Family's approach to off grid living.

Cooking by Heart.

It’s 10am and I haven’t sent Coach Rapper to school?  Why?  Well, it’s snowing and I am making pancakes.

Am I a bad mother?  No.  Am I a neglectful mother?  No.  Do I fully value the free Education my kid gets?  Yes, I think that I actually do.  Should I be homeschooling?  Maybe- but not me, not now.

As a wise girlfriend recently told me she needs her kids to go to public school, but she has a lot to teach them at home too.

I feel guilty about this though, both my parents were teachers.  If I am going to send my kids to school, I want them to take it seriously.  But, honestly, I was supposed to go to school like it was a job, and *I* didn’t take school seriously.  Will approaching it differently yeild the same result?  Not sure?

Is it okay to keep your kids home from school just because you wanted another Saturday?  Is it okay to keep your kids home from school because you feel happy, you love them and you want to be with them?  I don’t really know.

The boys, full of pancakes and happiness are playing lego and imagination games.  In 3 days my parents will be back.  It’s been 15 days since Jesse left.  You know what?  I am doing really well.  I am happy.  I am enjoying the kids.  Things are going well.

In between this sun soaked optimism I have fear,  it crawls up my neck.  A spider in the dark. 

Yesterday around 10 am sitting at the kitchen table A-frame vomited all over me.  Luckily, he had only had water that morning.  But my jacket and both sets of our clothes needing washing.  This hair raising fear of mine is….LAUNDRY.  Last summer/fall we used the laundrymat and I think this in and of itself is enough to put ANY woman in the psych ward!

Visions of carrying load after load of heavy stinky dirty kid clothes/bedding…shudder

It was good timing.  I had just talked to Mr. T and was fantasizing about going home and breaking ground for spring gardens.

I don’t want to go home before there is water in the yard.  I’ll probably go home before there is water in the yard.  I need to not go home before there is water.  I need to go home before there is water.  This is my small song, playing in the background of the moment.

Pancakes for his Lordship Ali, since I dread the grocery store- we are out of milk- so I had to get creative.  As usual, I made the recipe up as I went along.  I call it Cooking by Heart.

2 cups of spelt flour. 1/4 cup of powdered milk, 2/3 cup strawberry yogurt, 2/3 cup water, 2 eggs, 1 tbsp baking powder, 2 tbsp of canola oil.

Mix until mixed, very slightly lumpy- like pancake batter is supposed to look.

Cook in an ungreased, no stick frying pan with a chair and a cup of coffee beside the stove so you can browse the intraweb without burning them.  Hold baby hostage in highchair with secret first pancake.  Feed school age child eggs so you don’t feel guilty about his brain food.  Let school age child eat 2 single serve fruit on the bottom strawberry yogurts and feel gleeful that you’ve succeeding in getting rid of the nasty flavour.  I mean really- who actually likes the strawberry flavour?

Now before you get your panties all in a knot about me buying sugar yogurt (Ahem, Mum and Mr. T) for the baby and I we are just eating the top part- not the jam part, and I swear it has less sugar than letting the big boys use maple syrup AND it was 24 for $7.99.  24 for $7.99!!!

So, on with the recipe.  Use medium heat.  Do not put pancake in fry pan until water jumps when you throw a few drops.

The water should jump up and down crying in a tiny high pitched voice “Damn Mama, that’s hot!!!”

I used my 2/3 cup measuring cup, because obviously, if you’ve been following along, it’s already dirty.

Flip that cake once it is dry at the edges with tiny bubbles in the middle.  Cook until you remember about it When the pancake lifts easily and is browned on both sides it will be done.  I estimate 2-3 minutes first side, 90 seconds second side.

I tried to get a picture of the leftover stack, but little hands kept sneaking in there.


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