By Lexi Kentman aka PottyMouthMama
She worships at the house of chocolate, and since it’s Sunday, I give in to her whim. I melt chocolate and drizzle those pikelets, scattering berries on top.
Most Sundays you can find me in the kitchen, barefoot on the floorboards.
Both my children are early risers, and while I love the temptation of a Sunday sleep-in, I lie in bed for a little while before I leave my bed behind and start making Sunday breakfast. It’s not a fancy affair, by any means, but it is my Sunday ritual to keep me anchored. And to give my little family a little bit of me.
I’ve always loved baking. Ever since I was small, when I’d race home and bake biscuits, slices all from the stained pages of the Women’s Weekly cooking books.
So Sunday for me is baking day.
I start off with pikelets, making the mixture by rote, sifting, stirring, ladling the mix into my grandmother’s old electric frypan. There’s something wholesome, nurturing and cosy about the smell of butter melting. My mind wanders to my grandmother and her kitchen, and then I snap back because the pikelets are browning and fluffing out. Before they can sit for any amount of time, they are snatched up by two hungry little people.
My son prefers them plain. He loves the buttery goodness. Simple. Sometimes he’ll opt for maple syrup, but that’s rare.
And then there’s my seven year old daughter. She worships at the house of chocolate, and since it’s Sunday, I give in to her whim. I melt chocolate and drizzle those pikelets, scattering berries on top.
There’ll be some stray flour that’s escaped from the bowl, a limp, melty plate of butter on standby, the aroma of coffee as my husband makes his stovetop brew, and then the morning rush is over after countless serves.
Everyone’s happy – but no one moreso than I.
I bake on Sundays because it’s my way of giving my children a piece of me. I work a pretty solid week, leaving early, arriving home late, and baking is my way to their stomachs – and their hearts. My signal that even if I’m not at home, or there to pick them up, I love them with everything I have.
In the afternoon I’ll bake biscuits, brownies, or maybe a cake. Sometimes my daughter likes to help, and drags a chair into the kitchen to butt up against the bench. Other times I am left to my routine, to measure out quantities, sometimes doubling them so I can freeze a batch for later, sometimes making a little extra so I can share with my friends at work. But always on a Sunday, I bake.
Want to share with us all what baking days look like at your place? Contact us, here.
Hello! My name is Lexi. PR Manager by day. Blogger by night. I write about all sorts of things I love. Life, beauty, fashion, whatever appeals to me – I’m an avid supporter of Australian retailers and brands. I am the mama of two smalls, we live in Sydney. I work and juggle parenting and home-life with tweeting, blogging, instagramming and pinning. I love vintage things, fresh bed linen, curling up with a good book, robot dancing and baking. Read more of Lexi at her PottyMouthMama blog.
