Big Bowl Bread Baking

I have a new goal: I want to bake all the bread my family uses. Okay, not ALL of the bread, not the tortillas or pitas or bagels. Just the regular, sandwich type bread that we use for everyday things. I have been baking this bread for about a month now and am getting pretty good at it!

Then, about two weeks ago, I made a purchase that has completely changed my view of bread-baking. I bought a REALLY BIG BOWL from the restaurant supply store. This bowl is huge. It is stainless steel. It rocks my world. In this huge bowl, I can mix up four loaves worth of dough, knead it right in the bowl on the floor, thus eliminating that awful counter scrubbing that happens when you bake bread, and let the dough rise right in the bowl. Afterwards, I balance the bowl over my sink (yes, it is too big to fit in the sink) and fill it with water. After soaking for a few minutes, I can wipe it out with a washcloth and clean it. This bowl makes me really, really happy.

Matzoball Tears

I have three children. This past spring, while pregnant with my third and last, I was still working as a music teacher in Horseheads, New York. Although I was excited about having a third child, I also felt a bit nervous. I loved my first two children, Ellie and Max, loved my husband, Todd, and loved my job. Would I be able to be a good mother to three children? Would I be able to handle being a stay-at-home mom again after two and a half years back at work? Would this third child have something wrong with it? Would I love it? Our family was already pretty terrific, why did I want to mess around with something good?

Of course, I can write this now. At the time, I smiled and talked about due dates and hospital stays and long-term substitutes. I had no idea how worried I was! When my favorite choir threw me a surprise baby shower during the last week of school, I laughed and hugged them all, opening every present gleefully.

"We were expecting tears," said one girl, looking at me sideways.

"I don't cry," I said. "Well, only at inappropriate times."

This is true! I can never cry when I am supposed to, when I hear an sad story or have to say goodbye to someone I love. Instead, I cry when I am most angry at Todd, or if I have to drive too long when I'm tired.

After the last day of work before the baby was due (a day absent of tears, even when my colleagues arranged a goodbye party and hugged me for the last time), I set about getting the house ready for my parents. My mom and other-mom, Kathy, were coming up to take care of the kids during the hospital stay. Since I knew ahead of time that I was going to have a c-section, I'd asked for them to stay for two weeks. The house was cleaned, laundry was done. Soon the day came when my parents would arrive. I decided to make matzoball soup for dinner (yes, this is the story behind the name of this blog). As I rolled the matzoballs, tears started pouring. I sniffed and sobbed quietly, rolling the matzoballs and dropping them in boiling water to cook. I had no idea why I was crying! I managed to stop in order to get dinner ready, trying to figure out where the tears had come from. Half an hour later, the matzoballs cooked and ready to put in the soup, I heard my Mom and Kathy pull into the driveway. Instantly I ran into the bathroom and started wailing again. I waited and waited, but the tears wouldn't stop this time. Finally, I came out of the bathroom to see Mom, who hugged me, but obviously thought I was crazy.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

And finally, I knew. "You're here," I sobbed. "That means I have to have a baby now."

So, here I am, writing this story, and hoping that by starting a blog, I will be able to write moments down as they happen, and not be left to figure things out at the very last minute. For the record, the baby was a beautiful girl, Norah. She is perfect in every way, just like Ellie and Max. She's a keeper.