Being that I’ve been married for almost thirteen years now, I felt like I needed some fresh inspirational ideas. Believe it or not, I turned on Martha Stewart Living. What was I thinking?

There she was in all her domestic perfection, drolling on about sweet meringue kisses and other homemade confections. Gripping the overstuffed arms of my rocker, I cringed as I watched her pipe fluffy meringue onto her ‘Martha Stewart’ parchment paper with her ‘Martha Stewart’ pastry bag made with special grommets that allow you to hang them to dry. Was I watching a cooking show or a shopping channel? For the love of money! This was ridiculous!

I flicked off the tube and returned to my reality. Dirty dishes in the sink, peanut butter smeared children at the table and a frozen pizza thawing on the bread crumb covered counter. Piping meringue cookies? Now that’s what you’d call a pipe dream. Besides, I refused to be sucked into Martha’s world. <continued below>

"Thanks for turning that show off." `Rain remarked. "I’m so glad you’re not like her. It would be hard to be her daughter."

"Really? Why do you think that?" I asked.

"Because, she’s so, like, ‘Oooooohhhh it’s so important to do things this way. And ooooohhh, you’ve got to be just so perfect’."

I rustled her hair and headed to my room to get dressed. Funny how sometimes we strive to be someone we’re not in order to impress the ones we love. Had I not been so frustrated with the infomercial technique, I may have just attempted those cookies. Knowing me, I would’ve become extremely short tempered when my kisses turned out more like blobs. Harsh words wouldn’t be far away. I wondered what my family would prefer, fancy meringues from a grumpy mother or refrigerated, slice-and-dice tollhouse served with a smile?

It was a no brainer.

Returning to the kitchen, I wiped off the counter and slapped down the cold roll of cookie dough.

"Yea! Mommy’s making her best cookies!"

"Can we help?" Ash asked, jumping up and down.

"Sure! Many hands make light work!"

Ten minutes later, Sherwood, the girls and I sat at the table pulling the warm cookies apart laughing as the chocolate oozed all over our fingers. There were no fancy bags hanging to dry - only a pile of plastic wrap rolled up in the garbage. The cookies weren’t fluffy Hershey Kiss styles. Instead, the girls played with the dough forming it into lopsided hearts that joined into one big blob as they spread across the pan in the oven.

Sherwood and I were truly thankful sweethearts basking in the warmth of a somewhat messy kitchen, our hearts overflowing as we enjoyed our sticky fingered children and a loving family moment. Martha can keep her fancy doodads, and I’ll keep our hard earned money. Sometimes the best things in life come in $3.00 doughboy-covered plastic. And, it’s a good thing.

Copyright 2001 Hope Forrest. Visit her site. Comments? Hope would love to hear from you! Email the author.