Tag Archives: blueberry muffins

Blueberry Muffins 2015

The last time I talked about blueberry muffins was 2013. A lot has changed since then. This morning I made the muffins while the rest of the family was still asleep. It has been a rough couple of years, for many different reasons. As I reflected on different aspects of life, fatherhood kept coming to the forefront of my mind.Muffin Mix

The teenage years are hard. I know all about the chemical changes my sons are going through. I know they are facing peer pressure. I know they face issues with people calling them names, or asking them to compromise their values (I do think this generation is meaner and angrier then when I grew up, but that is for another post).

Then throw in social media, girls, and just discovering their own path in this world to create a confusing time for them and for me and my wife. I don’t know when they will be silently moody or sit and talk to me for half an hour about their frustrations (as highlighted by my second son who didn’t speak a word to me when he first got up this morning).

But it is Sunday morning and I am making blueberry muffins.

Like many parents, we have dealt with dishonesty, the heavy sighs when we ask them to clean their room, the issues all parents have dealt with. But as I mixed in the blueberries in the batter, I thought about how I cannot actually control my children. I cannot make them think, or feel, or believe anything. As teenagers they are in the hard process of deciding who they are. What they stand for. What future they will create. This is knowledge that is hard for me to deal with. Some lessons do not need to be learned the hard way.

As I put the muffins in the oven I understood one thing. What I could do is make blueberry muffins every Sunday morning. As a family we will sit around the table and talk, or at least nod our heads in agreement if we didn’t feel like talking. What I can control is the example I set for my family. The lessons they learn about life come from our home; this is their foundation. I know there will be rough spots to come. I know my heart will ache with the decisions they make, but my wife and I will be here to love them and to show them the right way.

Got to go, the timer just went off. The blueberry muffins are done. Time to gather the family.

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Blueberry Muffins: The Next Generation

Ready to bakeFor those who have not read much of my blogs, blueberry muffins are a Sunday morning tradition in our home.  They represent the change that any family goes through, but also shows the strength of tradition that binds a family together.  And now the next generation is in on the making of blueberry muffins.

Lately, I have been the one making the blueberry muffins on Sunday morning (teenagers do sleep in).  For the last couple of weeks I have had two little helpers.  My four and three year-old daughters have been helping me make the muffins.

I set the girls on the kitchen island with the ingredients and bowls between them.

“I’ll break the eggs. You put them in the bowl. OK, dad?”

And each daughter gets to break an egg for the muffins, and they get to break a couple for the scrambled eggs we have added to our Sunday breakfast.  The girls giggle as a little bit of the egg gets on their hands.  They rush to the bathroom to wash.  I have to wait for them.  They don’t want to miss helping at any point.

“Alright, keep the spoon in the bowl,” I say as I hold the glass bowl for my three year-old to mix the batter.

She smiles as she speeds up the spoon, creeping up the edge.  I tilt the bowl as best I can to her frantic motions.

“Very nice. Time for the blueberries.”

“Do we need that net thing?”

I reply that we do. The girls marvel at how the water turns purple.

The three of us get Sunday morning breakfast ready for the family.  At such a busy time in life, I know this routine is a way to be a dad.  We make a small mess and it takes twice as long to get breakfast done, but for 20 minutes nothing matters except us.  Every morning this week my two daughters have asked if we were having blueberry muffins.  I tell them no, but on Sunday we will.  Like we do every Sunday.

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