Botched Batches of Bread

She didn't mean to do it. My thoughtful daughter innocently stated, "Mom, we should make some brownies for the new neighbors across the street."

"Mhhmm," I remember grunting, as I held a hair band in my teeth while I managed a braid, a sandwich, and a tube feeding with two hands. A typical morning in this house of randomness!

"Did you get the brownie mix?" she asked upon returning from school that day.

"No..." [insert disappointed look on daughter's face] "...but I have some canned pumpkin. We can just make some pumpkin bread," I replied, feeling pretty proud of myself for coming up with the perfect fall welcome basket on a whim. How very festive of me. My new neighbors will be so impressed, I thought.

Our new neighbors have been in their house for 17 days now. I have not met them and I have 4 loaves of homemade pumpkin bread, none of which have made it across the street. Here is why:

I have this inner perfectionist in my head that I forget to shush sometimes. I will refer to her as "Martha" since that is the name of two over-the-top women who cannot be content with making brownies from a box (one has the last name Stewart and the other is biblical Martha, rebuked by Jesus for being distracted by dinner preparations and not choosing the better thing...that is, sitting at His feet).

This is the little "Martha" voice that said to me, "No, that loaf is too dark, try again."

It's also the one that suggested during attempt #2, "Double the batch this time...then you can take some to the new neighbors, the friends next door, and have some waiting when hubby arrives home from work...oh, it will be a glorious Norman Rockwell moment!" When the double batch didn't rise and turned out as two flat loaves, "Martha's" only suggestion was, "Not good enough for the neighbors, try again."

Attempt #3 on pumpkin bread was tonight...somehow, while calling out spelling words to the first grader and answering phone calls from the traveling husband, I was able to create a pumpkin bread that was just the right color and thickness...it was (dare I say it?) perfect! Only, when I went to deliver it, the sun had gone down and my new neighbors had only a bedroom light on. Besides, I try to not make a habit of knocking on doors after dark.

So, in my kitchen, sits a large plastic tub, containing three botched batches of pumpkin bread. The loaf of perfection is wrapped neatly in saran wrap and holiday ribbon, awaiting a time tomorrow when we will put on smiles and greet our new neighbors. As they comment on how nice it was and I reply that it was no trouble at all, one of my children will likely blurt out the truth about how many loaves I had to make to get it right.

Ugg...will I ever learn to just shut "Martha" up and make the boxed brownies?