This past weekend was my husbands birthday.
The whole week prior I had spent brainstorming some ways to surprise him and celebrate his day. It was hard because he’s hard to shop for- he doesn’t ever really want anything new, and his sizes are easier to find in the States #tallPeruvianproblems. Then I thought about planning a day trip somewhere, but seeing as he was getting back from a trip on Friday, he might be too tired to go anywhere. Another plan was to print some pictures and hang them up…something I thought my photographer husband would appreciate.
(but that didn’t happen because I couldn’t get pics on a USB in time to take them to be printed)
Well, the week was almost over when I decided that I would simply make him a special breakfast on Saturday morning of cinnamon rolls, eggs, and juice! I had never made cinnamon rolls from scratch before, and thought it would be a good time to learn.
My grocery store run on Wednesday was quick. I found yeast and white sugar (here we mainly use raw brown) and I was all prepared for Saturday morning!
Or so I thought.
Saturday morning came and I went to get out the flour and butter, only to realize I had neither flour (had thrown it out when we moved, apparently), nor enough butter for the whole recipe. Ugh. First wife fail.
It was 8:03 when I left home to go buy the things I needed, and to start plan B for breakfast…tamales, eggs, and juice. I also bought a newspaper…a nice Saturday morning touch. And I got candles, which I totally lucked out on because I don’t see them very often in the small neighborhood stores! That was my second wife fail…not having birthday candles!
I came back home by 8:40 and was going to start the cinnamon rolls, when I realized that husband had to leave home at 10:15 to meet someone. The dough would take an hour to rise, therefore I didn’t feel I had enough time to make the cinnamon rolls! Third fail.
So I pushed back my little baking experiment until Sunday morning, when I was up by 6:30 because I could NOT get comfortable in bed and my hips were killing me. I got all my ingredients out, including the cream cheese purchased two weeks ago, and started with my dough.
The recipe calls for a package of yeast that’s 1/4 ounces. Oops… my package was definitely more so I had to just guess at how much yeast to use! (Internet was out otherwise I would have googled!) Starting on my fourth cinnamon roll post-birthday breakfast surprise fail…
Dough rose, I rolled it out with a peanut butter jar (#creative), and sprinkled it with the cinnamon sugary goodness. Yum. At this point I was already proud the dough worked out the way it did, and I approved of the raw flavor. (Don’t judge me, I know raw dough is bad!)
I boasted to hubs that, “no matter how these turn out, I’m going to be proud… I’ve never made cinnamon rolls from scratch before!” Hehe.
Put the rolls into the oven and went for my cream cheese to start an icing recipe loosely following the recipe (without powdered sugar). I had sat it near the stove to get it warm enough to work with. Welp, apparently it either got too warm, or had been warm way before that morning, because when I opened the package it had blackish spots! Ick! Fifth fail.
At this point I was frustrated with myself for #1 not having made the rolls Saturday morning, #2 not checking the cream cheese sooner, #3 not buying brand new ingredients of everything on Wendesday, etc etc. I might have slammed a few things in the kitchen (at 8am, yes) and said a few negative things under my breath.
Meanwhile, husband is in bed like, “are you ok?” I really just wanted to cry and say, “forget it, let’s go ride the bus for 30 minutes, then walk 20 minutes and make a bee-line through the mall to Cinnabon!!!” Ugh.
After about 13 minutes of baking, I pulled the cookie sheet out, eager to try my icing-less rolls. I slopped some butter on top and sprinkled more cinnamon sugar. I sat down to eat, alone, after baking & cleaning up after myself for over an hour. I celebrated my success in having baked cinnamon rolls from scratch by simultaneously chowing down and crying.
Pregnancy hormones are no joke, y’all!
So there you have it… the story of the cinnamon rolls.
I know it’s nothing profound or exciting, but maybe you giggled a time or two at my pregnancy brain/wife fail moments. Maybe you even have had a similar experience. Regardless, I learned that I need to be prepared before I even start preparing. I need to not try to surprise someone with food unless I order takeout. And I learned that it’s actually refreshing and therapeutic to cry over cinnamon rolls, although they weren’t entirely the full reason I was crying.
Now, anyone want to come eat some icing-less rolls with me?!