Weekends wear me out.
I’m not kidding.
Most people look forward to Friday.
Me?
Monday is my favorite.

It’s not that I don’t like the weekends.
But they’re just different.
No rhyme or reason sometimes.
Kids needing to go here, there, and everywhere.
Squeezing in all the errands we didn’t do during the week.
This may seem counter-intuitive to you.
But somehow in my head it all makes sense.

This weekend was no different.
Busy as ever.
The main event?
A dance recital.
Now we are newbies to the dance world.
The older girls weren’t interested.
Alyson took it for a couple months back in the day
And then decided maybe soccer was a better fit.
(Turns out it wasn’t.)

But this year Hope decided it was time for ballet.
Inspired by her 17 year old ballerina cousin,
We signed her up.
Two classes a week.
We jumped into the deep end.

We bought leotards.
And tights.
And ballet shoes.
We learned how to make a bun correctly.
There were positions to be learned.
And lots of new french words
Which I don’t understand,
But it seems as if Hope does.
Good for her.

All year the dancers work towards a goal.
The end of the year recital.
Each class has a choreographed number.
There are glittery costumes.
And dress rehearsals.
And makeup.
Lots of fun makeup.
This is not lost on a 10 year old.

So this weekend was the big show.
The whole family had tickets.
Sam only complained about going a little bit.
And then I reminded him about all the basketball games.
And soccer games.
And football games.
And track meets
That his sister had attended.
Without wanting to.
Now it was his turn to go and cheer her on.
This seemed to make sense to him.
That and, possibly, some threatening looks from his mother.

By the day of recital,
Hope was ready to go.
A little nervous,
But up for the challenge.

And don’t know if you realized,
But striped tennies always give you a little more confidence in a new situation.
It’s true.

The recital went off without a hitch.
Lots of sweet dancers
Doing their thing.
Lots of proud parents and siblings whooping and hollering
in the audience.
Oh wait.
Maybe that was just us.
Hope was a little bit mortified,
But we didn’t care.

After the festivities ended,
There were flowers.
And congratulations.
And photo ops.
And then there were cheeseburgers and fries all around.
Because that’s the way we roll at our house.

And now that it’s all over and done.
I’m thankful for a Monday.
With kids back at school.
I think I’ll take a little time to drink a cup of tea.
And plan for the week.
And take a breath.

Yesterday was fun, wasn’t it?
It was for me!
I love Mother’s Day.
I think I even love it more than my birthday.
And that’s a lot.

I was trying to think why it’s such a fun day.
And this is what I came up with.
Being a Mom is great.
Sure.
But it’s also really hard work.
Laundry.
Dishes.
Making beds.
(Well, every so often this happens at my house)

Running errands.
Driving kids to school.
And sporting events.
And practices.
And piano lessons.

Getting up in the middle of the night when they’re newborns.
Getting up in the middle of the night when they’re sick.
Getting up in the middle of the night when they have nightmares.
Getting up in the middle of the night when they’re teenagers to make sure they made it home.
You get the picture.

Nobody really knows what Motherhood will entail when they have that first baby.
At least I didn’t.
I was just thinking, “Man, I bet my cute husband and I would make some adorable babies!”
And they were.
Cute, that is.

But when the euphoria of new motherhood wore off
And all the work kicked in
(I think that was around day 2 when I went home from the hospital)
I knew one thing for sure.
I was in way over my head.

But kids are a funny thing.
You love them and they love you.
And that’s kind of wonderful.
And somehow you have moments where you forget just how much work they are.
And you think, maybe it’s time to have another.
And another.
And another, in my case.

So all that to say,
When a day comes around
Once a year
When your children are encouraged to tell you how much they love you,
And why they love you.
To pamper you and give you gifts
(All with a lot of help from that cute husband of yours)

That’s a day to soak it all in.
To revel in being a Mom.
Because you know for sure
This day’s not coming around again until next May.
So it’s time to live it up!

Last night when I laid down on my bed,
I felt thankful.
For four beautiful children.
I am blessed to be their Mom.

This cookie quite possibly changed my life.
I am not kidding you.

My sister Sue made them for me last fall for the first time.
And they are delicious.
Let me tell you, when you have to eat gluten-free,
You do not turn your nose up at a delicious wheat-free cookie.

Not only that.
This is a cookie that doesn’t take any crazy ingredients.
Like sorghum flour.
Or potato starch.
Or xanthan gum.
Seriously, people.
No one should have to bake with xanthan gum.
I don’t know why,
But it just seems wrong.

These cookies are made with ingredients you have in your kitchen.
Right now.
And they are so good you are going to want to make them every night.
Not that you should.
Or that I have.
Let’s move on.

So as a shout-out to all my celiac peeps
(My children are cringing right now, because I just typed the word “peeps”)
(And that kind of makes me want to type it over and over)
Sorry. I digress.
To all of you who are gluten-free or gluten intolerant,
You’re going to want to kiss me when you taste these.
Or at least slap me a high five.

So here’s the recipe:

Gluten-free Peanut Butter Cookies
2 C creamy peanut butter
1 C white sugar
1 C brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt

Roll into balls, place on cookie sheet and criss-cross with a fork.
Bake at 350 for 9 to 10 minutes.
And that’s it.

If you feel like it, you can even add 1/2 bag or so of chocolate chips.
Yumm.
Your family will be happy with you.
There may be even be some singing and dancing.
Oh wait, maybe that’s just my family.
We do love our cookies.

If you’re really fancy, you could even make a sandwich cookie.
With peanut butter filling.
Think Nutter Buttters.
Or Girl Scout Do-si-dos.

Oh my.
These are a little bit naughty.

Well, that’s my gift to you this weekend.
If you make these, I will promise you one of two things.
You will either be singing my praises.
Or cursing me, because you are in a peanut butter cookie coma.
I should know.
I’ve experienced both.

Happy baking!