Saturday was a semi-traumatic day for my family.

1. I chopped my finger instead of the garlic.
2. The Baby Nickel got stung by a wasp. (We think that’s what it was, anyway.)
3. I deadheaded my finger while deadheading the flowers.
4. A tree branch fell on Mr. Handsome’s head.
5. Miss Beccaboo stepped on two nails simultaneously.
6. The Baby Nickel smashed his thumb with a hammer.

There were tears, band-aids, blood, ice, globs of neosporin, loud yells, and a few choice words.

We all marveled at the collective mess we had become. As Miss Beccaboo dug in the cupboard for the box of band-aids to dress yet another one of my wounds, she said, “I think I should put band-aids on all of your fingers, Mama.”

But it was a productive day, too.

1. Grapes got picked.

Mr. Handsome has a frightfully long torso. Here’s his worker-man legs…

And here’s his worker-man head, all up in the clouds.

You can’t tell from here, but he was super grumpy about picking grapes. He’s like this every year, so I don’t pay him any mind.

This little guy, on the other hand, loves picking grapes.

He shimmies right up into the arbor and hops around like a little monkey.

Considering our track record, I was fully prepared for someone to fall off the ladder and was rather surprised when no one did.

2. Snoozes were taken. (He was gearing up for the dread grape-picking job.)

3. Lawnmower lessons were given and taken.

4. And fruit-on-the-bottom baked oatmeal was discovered.

I read about the concept on Tasty Kitchen and less than twelve hours later I was pulling a pan of fruit-on-the-bottom baked oatmeal out of the oven. It smelled heavenly.

The kids, upon discovering that I had messed with the standard fare, set up a-moaning and a-wailing to beat the band. Yo-Yo was the loudest, but he shut up as soon as he tasted it, had seconds, and was disappointed when it was all gone.

It’s more a formula than a recipe: toss a bunch of fruit (I used fresh pears) with a bit of sugar (I used both white and brown) and cinnamon, scatter it over the bottom of your greased baking dish, and top with your favorite baked oatmeal recipe. I had a couple tablespoons of ground almonds left over from my twittering tarts, so I tossed them on top the oatmeal batter along with a sprinkling of demerara sugar for added crunch—delicious.

It’s a wonderfully delectable and hearty breakfast. And the best part is that it’s fortifying enough to get you through whatever the day might bring.

Thank goodness.

Fruit-on-the-Bottom Baked Oatmeal
Inspired by Tasty Kitchen

I used about six pears for this recipe, but I imagine peaches, nectarines, apricots, apples, and/or plums would be delicious, too. No doubt nuts and dried fruits would make a tasty addition, as well. The bottom (ha! a pun!) line? Do whatever you want.

4 cups fresh fruit, chopped, peeled, and cored, as needed
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons white sugar
1-2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 recipe baked oatmeal (enough for a 9 x 13 pan)
2 tablespoons ground almonds, optional
1-2 tablespoons demerara sugar

Grease a 9 x 13 pan. Toss the fresh fruit with the brown and white sugars and cinnamon and scatter over the bottom of the pan. Spread the baked oatmeal batter gently over the fruit, and sprinkle the ground almonds and demerara sugar on top. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes. Serve warm with cold milk.

This same time, years previous: the big night and my artistic mother

Last week after picking up two bushels of pears from a fruit stand, I sent a tweet out into the vast cosmic void: Researching all things pear. What’s YOUR favorite way to eat the fruit (besides straight up, of course)?

Two people responded with recipes, both of which were tarts, one chocolate (thanks, Jan!) and the other almond cream (thanks, Cousin Zoe!). I made them both.

That night I told my family that they must eat some of each kind and choose their favorite. They took their orders seriously, applying their forks most industriously.

The result? They chose the almond cream, and I chose the chocolate.

Though the next day, after the almond cream had spent the night firming up in the fridge, I found myself wavering, and after splitting the last piece with Mr. Handsome this afternoon, I’ve joined the ranks of the almond cream lovers.

The almond cream tart sports an almond crust, a thin layer of cream cheese, slices of juicy pear, and a heavy dusting of cinnamon sugar that, after baking, melts into a glorious golden glaze. It’s like cheesecake, only more refined and delicate.

Almond Cream Pear Tart
From my cousin Zoe

While delicious at room temperature, this tart is best after a twelve hour rest in the fridge.

For the crust:
3 tablespoons butter
7 tablespoons (or ½ cup minus 1 tablespoon) sugar
3/4 cup flour
1/3 cup finely ground almonds
pinch of salt

Cream together the butter and sugar. Mix in the flour, ground almonds, and salt. Press the crumbs into the bottom of a 10-inch springform pan.

For the filling:
8 ounces cream cheese
3 tablespoons sugar
1 egg
1/4 t almond extract
3 pears, cored, peeled, and sliced
2 tablespoons sugar mixed with 1-2 teaspoons cinnamon

Beat together (no need to wash the beaters after using them to make the crust) the cream cheese and sugar. Add the egg and almond extract. Pour the filling over the crust. Arrange the pear slices on top of the filling. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar over the pears.

Bake the tart at 425 degrees for 10 minutes and then reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees and continue baking for anther 15-20 minutes. Cool the tart to room temperature before serving, or, better yet, chill it overnight in the refrigerator. As Zoe says, “It’s a long, hard wait but you’ll get through it.”

This same time, years previous: a quick rundown, spilt marbles, part II, and say cheese!

Pictures don’t tell the truth. They’re flat, one-dimensional, only allowing you to use your eyes to make an assessment. So considering that the other four senses—hearing, touch, taste, and smell—are neglected, it would stand to reason that pictures don’t give a very good picture after all.

In fact, you could say that photographs are devious little liars.

Take, for example, this picture of The Baby Nickel.

Aw, shucks, you say. The little four-year-old is folding laundry. Ain’t that so sweet! It just melts my heart.

Then, He must be so well-trained. Speaks well of the mama, too. I mean, she must be so attentive to include him in her work. And she’s teaching him responsibility and helping him build confidence, to boot. She’s got her act together, that’s for sure. She must be so organized and calm. Probably has sparkly windows and a toilet so clean you could drink out of it. Man, I wish I could run my household as smoothly as she does. Maybe if I woke up at five, and if I smiled more often—

Eh-em. Excuse me for interrupting, but mind if I step in and set the record straight?

What You Don’t See*:

*the three other children slaving over their mounds of laundry
*the cacophony of fussing that happened beforehand
*the bickering over space and laundry-pile size
*the name calling and spitting (we’re part llama)
*the meting out of consequences and the beep-beep-beep as I set the timer for deadlines (i.e. If you don’t finish in x amount of time, then big, awful, scary, terrible y—mwahaa-haa-haa—will happen to you, so GET BUSY.)
*the heavy smell of garlic and onions sizzling on the stove
*the whirring fans
*Yo-Yo’s incessant whistling (and occasional foot stomping to accompany the tootling)
*the across-the-field neighbor’s kennel of dogs going berserk-o
*the sticky, crunchy kitchen floor
*the extremely rare moment of silence (it does happen!) that’s split by…
*the ringing phone, and then the thundering feet as everyone races pell-mell to answer, crashing into each other, bonking heads, and shrieking with frustration and rage
*me angrily meting out more consequences
*the whiny question of “Why do I ha-ave to doooo all this stuff” and the lesson in logic/philosophy/ethics/manners that follows
*the oppressive feel of the hot afternoon sun pouring in through the kitchen windows
*the headache-y tiredness, lethargy, and irritability that inflicts each of us at 4 o’clock every afternoon

All you see is a sweet little boy folding laundry.

Consider yourself fortunate.

The end.

*The above list might not correspond to the exact moment that the photo was taken, but it’s all one-hundred percent true nonetheless.

This same time, years previous: honey-whole wheat cake, blueberry coffee cake