How to Make Banana Everything Cookies When You Have a 2.5 Month Old
Put the baby down for a nap. Try to nap yourself. Somehow fail miserably at taking a nap despite being woken up every two hours the night before by said baby.
Remember you have way too many ripe bananas sitting on the counter.
Decide to make Isa Chandra’s Banana Everything Cookies.
Check your recipe print out and see that step 1 says to preheat the oven. Decide not to do that, since baby just fell asleep. You don’t want to wake him with the oven beeping all about.
Skip ahead to the next step of the recipe. It says to prepare two baking sheets. Again, too noisy. Too risky. Skip even further ahead to mashing two overripe bananas with a fork as quietly as possible.
Feel hungry, but decide it’s too early for lunch. Throw some raw broccoli and frozen french fries into the air fryer for a snack.
Look back to your recipe. Notice that it calls for 1/3 cup of canola oil. Decide to use apple sauce instead because you want to be a #fitmom.
Take your apple sauce out of the refrigerator, open the jar, and see mold inside. Toss the apple sauce into the trash because your apartment doesn’t recycle glass. Mourn your #fitmom dreams. Go back to using canola oil.
Measure out 1/3 cup. Add it to the bowl. Notice you have so little canola oil left, it’s hardly worth keeping.
Keep it anyway because your mother taught you better than to waste anything ever.
Measure out 1/3 cup of coconut sugar. The recipe says to use 2/3 cup (presumably non-coconut) sugar, but you notice you’ve scratched it out on your print-out and written 1/3 cup. Blindly trust your past self.
Add 1 tsp vanilla. Add a flax egg just because. The recipe doesn’t call for one, but you figure it can’t hurt.
Quietly mix everything together.
Add 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons of whole wheat pastry flour to the bowl. The recipe says to use all-purpose flour, but you’ve just finished baking a lot of Thug Kitchen recipes and they always use whole wheat pastry flour.
Add 1/2 teaspoon baking soda. Add 1/4 teaspoon salt.
Reach for the cinnamon and manage to knock down the bottle of cumin into the cake pan you used earlier and never put away, making a ton of noise in the process. Resist the urge to curse under your breath while you look toward your baby, wild-eyed. Breathe a sigh of relief as he somehow stays asleep.
Realize you’re getting close to the end of the recipe and should probably preheat the oven. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, wincing at every beep. Take out one baking sheet as quietly as possible, making a lot of noise. Cover it with parchment paper, making even more noise.
Glance at your baby and furrow your brows as you see that his eyes are open. Freeze as if that will somehow get him back to sleep. Praise God profusely when baby’s eyes flutter shut again.
Realize you’ve completely forgotten about the broccoli and fries in the air-fryer. Check on them.
They’re burnt. Sigh quietly. Go back to baking.
Add 2 cups of rolled oats, 1/2 cup of chopped walnuts, and 1/4 cup of chocolate chips.
Mix everything together. The dough will look too wet. The extra flax egg likely didn’t help.
The recipe says to add more flour if it looks too wet. Notice the baby is stirring and decide you don’t have time to adjust the recipe. Hear baby grunting in his sleep and realize you are on borrowed time. Charge ahead.
Plop tablespoons of the dough onto the baking sheet. The recipe says to roll the dough into balls, but that’s impossible with how wet the dough is.
Bake for 12 minutes instead of 10 minutes because your oven runs cool and your dough is wet.
Sit down on the arm of the couch instead of the actual chair because the chair squeaks. Eat your burned broccoli and fries straight out of the air fryer basket. They’re cold now, and taste like charcoal and sadness.
Grab baby because he’s woken up angry. Snuggle him. Smell his little head and tell him he’s the cutest, because he is. Check on cookies with baby.
They’re not done. Unswaddle baby and play.
Hear timer go off. Briefly consider trying to take cookies out while still holding baby. Realize that’s the worst idea you’ve ever had in your life. Put baby down despite his protests. Remove cookies from oven as fast as humanly possible.
Purse your lips in disappointment as you look at your monstrosities.
Try the cookies.
Feel the disappointment wash over you. They’re not sweet enough. Realize you don’t want to be healthy, #fitmom after all.
Bake the rest of the cookies. Eat another cookie.
Eat two more cookies just to make sure you don’t like them. Curse past self, the lack of sugar in her diet, and her flat, firm tummy.
Remove the four remaining cookies from the oven while baby fusses in the background. Regret everything.
Wait for the cookies to cool next to the cake pan where the cumin bottle fell into. Decide these cookies are unsuitable as gifts, or even for husband. Feel much shame.
Scoop baby up. Jiggle him around and decide it’s probably time for a diaper change. Change his diaper. Get unceremoniously peed on. Watch him grin while you clean him up.
Freeze the remaining cookies and pretend they’re lactation cookies just because they have oatmeal in them. Decide you will think twice before ever baking again.
(Optional) Step 21
Write a typo-ridden blog post about your endeavor and be unable to get it together for publication until baby is around 4 months old.