Homemade Hamburger Buns

You didn't think I would make them, did you? That's ok, neither did The Mister.

I didn't need to make hamburger buns from scratch; I could have easily bought them at the store. But, somehow, making these make me a better mom.

I'm always thinking, and I get bored easily. Because of this I often take on too many projects and over commit myself. I check my emails constantly and carry the cordless phone in my pocket. When I am out, my cellphone is either in my hand or within reach. I'm not important. There is rarely a call or email that couldn't wait a couple of hours, and, yet, I am always available.

But, am I available for my boys if I am already available for everyone else? I worry they pay the consequence of my frenetic personality, and I don't want them to remember me as the mom who was always working. I'm not all about work! Case in point, I love to bake. I always have, and after so many years (my Kitchen Aid stand mixer is 16 years old) I've become proficient enough to tackle any recipe that strikes my fancy. I want them to know this about me, and remember it fondly later in life. And so, I choose to spend a day with Mikey and Nico and make in a couple of hours what I could have bought in 5 minutes.

As a rule, it's not easy to bake with a 3 year old. You lose track of ingredients. Flour ends up everywhere but the bowl. There is a constant threat of boo-boos and burns. Sometimes it seems easier to just bake for them rather than with them. But, today I persevered, kept my mouth shut, and was rewarded when I suddenly feel a light touch and looked down to see this:

The Kitchen Aid can make all sorts of intimidating noises when kneading a large bread recipe, and sometimes you just need a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on until all the commotion is over.

I was rewarded again when we pulled the dough from the mixer and a little voice beside me sighed, "Oh, mama. It's just soooooo beautiful."

And so we baked. And kneaded. And we rolled up our dough into balls and sprinkled them with sesame seeds. Lots of sesame seeds. Maybe one bun got a bit more sesame seeds than necessary when mom wasn't looking.

I hope the boys remember baking with me. I hope they know that when I look at them I am so filled with love that sometimes I can't breathe. I hope they understand that I am just trying to be a good mom they can be proud of. And I hope that maybe, just maybe, one day many years from now when they are both on dates with some little tramp I don't even like that they lean over and say, "You know, my mom bakes the best bread."

And that's why I made hamburger buns from scratch.