The Great Gnocchi Debacle

The recipe looked so easy, with just two ingredients (baked butternut squash and flour: mix them together and form into balls). I spent almost an hour prepping all of the little gnocchi pellets early in the day and put them in the fridge, as the recipe suggested. I prefer cooking before I have a hangry family clustering around asking what I'm making and when it will be ready, over and over, so I like to prep as much of dinner early as possible. With the gnocchi pieces formed beforehand, I could simply dump them into boiling water to cook for 4 minutes, butter and herb them, and have an easy dinner in next to no time. 

When I got the bowl of gnocchi out of the fridge at 5:45pm, however, most of the little gnocchi pellets had sunk back into one solid ball of dough! I had to go and do it all again, forming all of those little bits a second time. It was maddening. The dough got all sticky on my hands (sensory discomfort), not to mention that I had timed it so dinner would be ready at 6pm but since I had to re-do the gnocchi process, it wasn't ready until after 6:30pm (time crunch and hovering hungry family discomfort). And then of course Amber whined about the unfamiliar food (ungrateful kid irritation). I made a big mess with flour poofs and scattered parsley in the kitchen and the gnocchi bits were all blobby and uneven because in my hurry, I didn't cut them prettily the second time around. 

Of course, each individual member of my family stopped by my hot mess cooking sesh to inquire what I was making, when it would be ready, and --bonus-- to comment on how it looked. For good measure, Amber also inserted a few complaints about the food I was making. Then they all went and lounged together in the family room while they waited for their resident chef-servant to hurry up and make their homemade healthy balanced dinner. Sometimes when I'm cooking, one or two family members will offer to help, but not this time. I was not in the right mental space to ask for help (since helpers require patience, instruction, and supervision). Can we say perfect storm for Shaina-frustration?

I had to chop parsley and some sausage links to go with the gnocchi, which I did sporadically in between boiling batches of gnocchi (because it stuck together if I tried boiling too many gnocchi at once--eyeroll). Once the gnocchi was finally all cooked, I quickly threw together an herb butter sauce that looked beautiful on the orange gnocchi. It all tasted good, and we even got Amber to eat some of it, but sheesh, what a bunch of pointless extra work! It was a total peevish feverish hot mess of a cooking sesh. I can endure anything if I know how long it's going to take, but when my projected cook time frame more than tripled on Tuesday night, I felt a wild trapped feeling that built into a burning fury by the time dinner was ready. 

Everyone liked the unfamiliar orange gnocchi, and it really was good, but after a total of nearly two hours of slaving in the kitchen (between the first and second prep), I was too emotionally fried to really enjoy it. And the recipe barely made enough for one bowl of gnocchi per person, so after all that work there would be no leftovers (leftovers are my coping strategy for my impatience with cooking: cook once, eat twice or more). None of that with the gnocchi.

And... nobody said thank you to me for making the dinner. I am getting better at not taking it personally when my family takes my gifts, work, and love for granted, but on nights like the great gnocchi debacle, a little thank-you would have gone even farther than usual to soothe my ruffled soul. I did succeed in refraining from grumpily accusing my family for their lack of gratitude. I know from experience that a guilty hasty "posthumous" thank you is not the kind of thanks that I seek. (When I found myself in a better frame of mind two days later, I did mention the lack of familial gratitude on gnocchi night and everyone was suitably abashed, as usual. Same song, same verse.)

After dinner on Tuesday, I left the kitchen mess entirely to my husband and kids to clean up, feeling liberated at last (and also somewhat vindicated since the kitchen was FAR messier than it usually gets when I cook, SO THERE). I went straight to my family art club Zoom meeting, where I vented a little of my kitchen frustration to my patient aunt and mother before we talked about art.

It would have been so much worse if the gnocchi tasted awful, but the fact that it tasted good was also annoying because I actually do want to have it again sometime, but it's going to be a while before I feel recovered enough to make it again. (If that's a run-on sentence, it was intentional.)

The rest of the week was loaded with other big little tests, some of which I passed with flying colors, others which I failed miserably, and yet others, like the gnocchi debacle, where I succeeded in one area (making good food) but failed in another (getting frustrated with the process). Those mid-grade results were annoying because it took a disproportionate effort to get a lame C-minus grade. Blah, blah, blah, I know, perspective is important, and I am trying to root through the less-excellent debris and view these mid-grade quasi-successes more positively. Maybe the gnocchi debacle colored the other events of the week in a more negative than necessary light. Yeah, I'll blame the gnocchi. 

The mixed bag:

• We had family scripture every morning this week, but it felt very superficial since we only read a few verses per day and didn't manage to discuss much meaning beyond the story events in Moses's life.  
• My fitness is returning, and I was able to complete two solid strong running workouts this week, which felt seriously amazing, but also made me tired and sore. My metabolism jumped into overdrive, which in turn made consuming enough food with my sensitive digestion a challenge.
• We had family prayer every morning and night, but the prayers felt repetitious and quick.
• Our Monday family game night was a brief placeholder wherein we played rock paper scissors for about 3 minutes. 
• Jeff's long-covid symptoms are trending towards recovery, and he his so ready to be back to normal. This week he had two rough days where he regressed, stayed home, and felt awful nausea and fatigue.
• Jay had his first week of middle school track and field. He was so tired on Tuesday night that he nearly wept when I informed him it was his turn to load the dishwasher.
• All three kids went to church activities on Wednesday night, but the activities started and ended at different times and locations, so I was in the car for over an hour getting them where they needed to be.

Whew, this is nothing but normal everyday first world life. It's easy to wonder if these seemingly minuscule efforts are enough, or if they are making a difference. For now I'll take comfort in the knowledge that the less-great aspects of these events provide the contrast needed to make the great moments shine. 

Somehow I managed to take a picture of the bright happy orange butternut squash gnocchi. It really was yummy--chewy, mild, nutty, buttery, and well-herbed. Far too much sweat and rage went into their creation, though.

We had several absolutely glorious sunny warm days, so I did a little swinging on our rope swing. I never last more than a few minutes on a swing before I get motion sick, but it was such a happy springy thing to do that I did it anyways. 

I managed to tame Amber's wild thick curls into French braids one day for school and she looked so different without her usual frizzy blonde halo.

After school, Amber's braids were still mostly intact! That afternoon, Amber sat next to me where I was reading on the couch. She plunked a stack of at least 7 easy reader books she chose from the library (Pinkalicious and Amelia Bedelia) and methodically read every single one. She only needed help on a tiny handful words the entire time. She closed a book with a snap and said "such a satisfying sound." 

My photo memories have been darling Amber-ific GOLD this week. Baby Amby was such a sweet happy cuddly little cherub. Now she's reading!

Pretty sunrise.

Jay, walking across the lawn to the car before school at sunrise.  

Amber was very excited when I agreed to let her buy a Pokemon book from the school book fair this week. She wrote the title of the book she wanted and then taped the baggie of money to the paper.

Cute Rosie, all ready for school wearing her Great Grama Brown's rose socks. It was a sweet reminder of my Grama two months after she passed away.

Rose suddenly decided to start running on Friday afternoon, and she invited me along. Even though my legs were dead tired from the previous day's run, I couldn't say no to that sweet question: "Mom, will you run with me?" We jogged around the mint fields behind our house for 15 minutes.

A while ago, Jay was having a hard time remembering to read his scriptures, so I suggested setting a reminder on Alexa. I didn't know that he actually did it until our kitchen Alexa displayed a recent reminder on the screen: "8:30pm Read your scriptures j."

I have been finding much peace, fulfillment, and joy from upping my piano playing this month. I found a few new songs that inspire me and it is a lovely introspective activity to play the piano, even with lots of mistakes. Jay took this picture because I was thinking about drawing hands playing the piano for my weekly art club artwork. Drawing those curved fingers ended up being too far outside my artistic wheelhouse, though, so I did something easier for my art. I'm still glad to have this picture of my fingers poised over the opening chord of the newest song that I'm learning.

Amber, reading Ameila Bedelia at the kitchen counter while I do her hair on Sunday morning.