The "interesting" part was that we had no idea what was looming. Usually, when these sorts of "events" with the children take place, we are made fully aware from the onset. Their wee waking breaths speak volumes... usually. As it turned out yesterday, their wee waking breaths were actual "thrones of lies!" I need to insert here that I had succumbed to a morning migraine that had me balled-up in the fetal position for a good portion of the morn. Likely, it was in these dawning hours where all the parental patience that is required for a 24-hour period was completely squandered. At this point, gaskets had been blown–repeatedly–with little to no notice. Heaping piles of consequences had been dished out for menial-at-best disobedience. Apologies had been given and taken in a vicious, cyclical nature... all-the-live-long-day.
It was round-about the 38th request for a snack that we hit the eye of the storm and things quieted down for a few moments. As we find ourselves at the beginning of the Lenten season we have been talking about Jesus' 40 days in the desert–about the importance of remembering and prayer–about discipline and fasting. We have this children's book, "Walter the Baker," by Eric Carle. It has been read a number of times during the witching hour, otherwise known as bedtime. (Side note: I am not a lover of this time of day. I know there are some moms that are way better/nicer/relishers of times that will all too quickly be gone. Nevertheless, I cannot seem to convince myself to be one of those moms at bedtime. If we come home from a night out and the babysitter has navigated a successful bedtime, it was worth every, I mean EVERY single penny we paid them! My Love knows that the most direct path to my heart is hearing the words, "I'll put the kids the bed tonight." This is one of those areas I should likely feel some shame, but #ain'tgottimeforthat. All that to say, I have never read the page that follows the actual story of "Walter the Baker." I had no idea, until the father of my children–the bedtime extraordinaire–love of my life–informed me that he already knew that pretzels were a Lenten tradition because of the last page in "Walter the Baker." Huh. Oh well. I went through my whole explanation with the kids anyway.
It took all morning for the dough to rise in our freezing kitchen, but it finally did. The kids and I started rolling out the dough and talking about how pretzels were typically made just out of flour, water, and salt– fitting with all the fasting that often takes place during Lent. But the coolest part is in the actual shape of the pretzel: the shape is based on an ancient posture of prayer where the arms are folded across the chest. We talked again about the importance of prayer while Jesus was in the desert, how important it is for us, and how we spend this time of year being even more intentional about such things.
So we rolled... and we talked... and we laughed.
We dipped... and we salted... and we baked.
Then we ate! And Praise be to the Lenten Lord of all things Pretzel! Holy WOW! These pretzels are the food of celestial beings! They were out-side-standing! I believe it is safe to say that I can no longer remember a time in my life without these pretzels in it!
We consumed mass quantities of pretzels, whilst watching past Tony-award-winning broadway show tune performances. Because, yes, that is us. That is what we do. Judge if you must!
Then... the eye passed us and we were back to loosing our salvations! Rainbows and unicorns another day!
Recipe for the Lord's pretzels can be found here: http://www.fashionedible.com/2013/09/oktoberfest-homemade-pretzels.html
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