My house smells like cornbread. We are expecting 14 people at Thanksgiving dinner (must buy forks) (also, internet, what can I put under the card tables in the living room that will shield the carpet from spills and be a little less unattractive than a shower curtain?) and I am trying to plan ahead. Ergo, a double batch of The One True Cornbread for stuffing.
The smell is more attractive than the appearance. It will be fine in stuffing, moistened with butter and stock, but I didn't measure the yogurt and so it's not what you'd call beautiful. It's a metaphor, I think.
One of my children, when he was small, used to love to unpack the groceries. "Oh, Daddy!" he would exclaim. "Light bulbs! Thank you! Toilet paper! Thank you so much, Daddy!" He wasn't digging through the bags in search of Captain Crunch (I'm not sure he would have known what Captain Crunch was); he was just happy with whatever treasures he unearthed.
Another of my boys tells me all the time how glad he is that I'm his mom. And I am grateful, of course, but I am also humbled. I am keenly aware of my shortcomings. (Chief among my guilt-inducers right now: this boy wants to cook his way through Honest Pretzels. Why, Mollie Katzen, why must each recipe use twenty-eleven bowls? Why did you think it was a good idea for small children to make tortillas by hand when their mothers know nothing about tortilla-making? I get a little irritated about messy unfamiliar kitchen tasks. Irritation is not the right response.)
I also have a child who is quick to point out my shortcomings, and you might imagine that this does not spark the happiest of responses in me. I get defensive. I get accusatory. I get...more aware of my shortcomings.
To a certain extent, I think, gratitude is a personality characteristic. But it's also something we can cultivate -- should cultivate. I can say, "Oh, the cornbread smells terrific and the stuffing will be great and I can't wait to see everyone." I can say, "It looks terrible and I feel grumpy about it. And I bet people will grind stuffing into the living room carpet where it does not belong."
One of those is clearly a better option.
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