SUGAR COOKIES AND HEAVY HEARTS

today was the drizzliest, rottonest day. we are all suffering from a case of the sniffles, even the city. brandon and i are still reeling from the shootings in connecticut. i want to be able to do something about it. there has to be something at this point? i feel like i can't be sitting here just processing sadness anymore. there is too much sadness. between the uws nanny stabbing and the hurricanes and the shooting in oregon, and who even knows what else i'm forgetting in between then and friday, i'm just surrounded by constant reminders that we are not safe, and i am not in control of anything. i can't bring the babies here, and even once i do, i can't protect them from the world. it's enough to make me want to steal my family away and hide forever in some remote rock on a mountain. i think we need a break from all of this.

and cookies schmookies, i know. but sometimes it is all you can do. 

huck is developing in warp speed these days. his little self fills a room, and i am responsible for giving him the world. this little sliver of his life is mine to improve. and it is awe inspiring and overwhelming and comforting even, in a strange way, which might make no sense really. when huck sees steam coming from the food we're about to eat he says, "ouch, hot mama" and won't eat it until i've blown on it. when he trips and falls or jams a finger in a toy, he believes a kiss from mama will make it better. he understands sadness and pain and for all he knows, it ends here, with me. when feel emotional or frustrated, he crawls up into my lap and holds my face in his hands and says "schowwy mama," because he knows that my pain ends with him, too. we are responsible for each other and we do our best. and sometimes, together, we can make the rest of the world go away.

sometimes, it's cookies.

i just can't get over the idea of starting the day with a baby and ending it without. i can't imagine losing huck so quickly, so horribly. it makes it hard to breathe. i know it happens every day, quietly, though loudly as could be for those in pain. we lose babies we've had for decades and we lose babies we've had for years and we lose babies we've carried only in secret a few weeks. our babies are not promises. sometimes it feels like nothing is.

brandon took these photos while we were messing around in the kitchen this evening. i'm so grateful for brandon. i'm so grateful for huck. i am so grateful i've never known the pain of losing a baby. i'm grateful and i'm frustrated and i'm sad and i'm angry. i'm just so angry. i'm angry for all those parents. i'm angry for all those babies. there has to be something we can do. 

sometimes, it's cookies.

this is my favorite sugar cookie recipe. i hope you enjoy it with peace and health and loved ones.

1 cup butter, softened

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1/2 tsp almond extract

1 1/2 tsp vanilla 

2 tsp baking powder

1tsp salt

4-5 cups flour 

(i like a lot of flour, i think it's the key to a good sugar cookie. i entirely eyeball it after the third cup and taste as i go till it gets just the right fluffy consistency. the amount i need seems to change every time.)

roll 'em out real thick on a floured surface, 

use your happiest holiday cookie cutters,

bake at 400 degrees F for six to eight minutes.

(try to err on the side of undercooked. they are not as good crispy.)

a reader from my hometown in connecticut emailed me to see if i'd share her friend's initiative, 

and i'm honored to.

if this is your cup of tea (and if not, i respect that), 

please consider sending your extra christmas cards to your legislators

and tell them it's time to improve our country's gun policies. 

i know it won't solve everything. but i believe it may help.

you can read more about this HERE.

(thank you in advance for keeping your comments on gun policy polite.)