It's ultimately my fault, really. I should have made the recipes (this and the gnudis) when the kids were in school. But I was so tired (Sam only sleeps a bout 6 hours a night) and decided that kidless portion of the first day back to school would be better spent doing a workout and sleeping.
I cleared off the table and gathered all the ingredients to make the bran cinnamon buns. Lucky me, I had exactly enough flour. So far so good. Then, I tried to find a large metal bowl to mix the ingredients. I know I have at least 3, but the only two I can find have serious convex dents in them. Now I know how Sam spent his time the one time we were able to get a sitter over the holidays. I checked Sam's room for the 3rd bowl -- no such luck. But, I was able to find one of the beaters for hand mixer with one of the edges really bent out of shape. I straightened out the beater, as best I could (I pretended I was bending jail cell bars -- I figure I could use the practise).
I ask the girls if they have seen the metal bowl. Kate thought a moment and exclaimed "Oh I used one for my pet worms."
"Pet worms? Honey, where are your pet worms now?" I was not sure I wanted to hear the answer.
"Outside, I think I left them behind the garage." Well, at least they weren't in her room.
So I went outside to check on the status of the worm palace and decided to grab a hammer from the garage on the way back in.
I then spent several mintues trying to pound the metal bowls back into a semi concave shape. Sam starting freaking at the noise (funny, it obviously didn't to bother him when he was pounding the bejeebus out of the bowls in the first place.)
I dumped all the flour, sugar and cereal in the bowl. Just before I added the yeast, I stopped. Something didn't seem right. I got Sarah to re-read the recipe and realize I was only supposed to put 2 cups of flour, not the full 9 1/2 cups (my only defense is that I was distracted by Sam). Kate is now conscripted to sift the cereal from the flour.
I put 2 cups of flour, the yeast, the cereal, the sugar, the water and molasses and start the mixing. It quickly became obvious that I did not straighten the beater enough because the dough became very lopsided on one beater and threw the balance off.
*mental note to pick up new mixer*
Then a call from oldest DD that Sam had locked himself in the bathroom. Actually, barracaded is a better description. It seems Sammo Whammo had rolled his mini-trampoline into the bathroom, tipped it over and wedged it between the door and the bathtub. Thankfully I was able to open the door just enough that I could partially tip the tampoline get into the room.
Sam, of course had dumped a bunch of cereal in the sink, blocking the drain. I figured I would deal with that later as a crash and a "OH NO!!!!!" came from the kitchen. Kate, who was almost done sifting the flour, accidently knocked over the bowl. I was now 3 cups short for the flour. But I didn't give up because I had whole wheat flour in the fridge and replaced the 3 cups with that.
I worked the dough as best I could manually (Woe is right -- it actually squeaks when you roll it!). One thing I will say, it gives you a good arm workout.
We rolled out the dough (which looked no where near as nice as Woe's) and made the cinnamon buns (rolls for you Yanks), covered them and let them rise. Well, we tried to let them rise because Sam kept taking off the towels.
Just before I was ready to pop them in the oven, I took one last look at the computer to make sure I didn't forget anything. And immediately get sprayed in the face with diet Coke which is now spewing from a punctured, depressurizing can. (Thanks Sam.) I rush to cover the keyboard which is now getting diet Coke dripped on from the ceiling.
After coralling the can, drying off the ceiling and the keyboard, I put the cinnamon buns in the oven. Except the two that Sam ate raw.