Anybody Doesn't Want Me! (and Rhubarb Muffins)

It is the oddest thing -- when Emilia started pre-school this past year she cried and cried, and I cried and cried and cried, too.  She cried because she was nervous, scared, excited, and had never been away from me before (apart from three or so brief times with a babysitter).  I cried because I knew things would never ever be the same again.  (Yes, I sound melodramatic, but you'll just have to deal with it.)  Anyway, I knew that once Emilia started school, she would love it -- and, eventually, she would stay longer and longer and, egads, go five days a week (as opposed to the two and a half hour/two days a week that she did this past year).  And then one day she would move out of the house and get married and all that.  And to be perfectly honest, it was hard for me to take when I looked at her little self.

So how on earth did we both go from crying when school started to nearly sobbing when school ended?  Emilia loves school -- she is incredibly social and loves her little friends.  And it has been amazing watching her blossom the way that she has.  It has also been amazing to have those few short hours each week to spend with Leo and to go running.  Our schedule was this: drop the girl off, drive home as fast as we could, hop in the house, change into a variety of spandex and lycra, feed Leo lunch (usually a yogurt while we both sat on the kitchen floor), plonk him in the jogger, load him up with blankets and/or the handy-dandy rain shield, and get moving -- my i-pod (blasting some of the worst music ever created) and a few intermittent shouts to Leo, 'You doing alright, baby?', to which he always responds, 'Uh, yeah!' -- then back to school to pick up the girl as fast as we could.  And there you go -- our Tuesday and Thursday afternoons of yore. 

And now it is gone!  (sniff sniff)  Even Emilia voiced concern a week or so before school ended, 'Mama, what ARE you going to do about your running?'  The problem has been solved, though.  It is called waking up at an unnatural hour and going before Michael leaves for work and before kids are out of bed.  Oddly, this has been working just fine.  I have been very happy being outside and all by myself for awhile.  I am never all by myself.  In fact, Emilia just made a sign and put it on the door of the bathroom to remind her that it really is best to just let someone be in the bathroom by themselves, for pete's sake -- this includes her: 'I'm taking privacy!'

Anyway, school has been out for two weeks now, and I think we are all suffering from too much togetherness.  She needs to get out and be with her friends and doing something, but so far she is refusing to let me sign her up for any activities.  (I have not been pushing this as we will be gone for a long time this summer, and I am not coughing up for something she will hardly get to go to.)  Besides, I am sick and tired of putting her into classes and then having her quit them (that would be ballet, tap, gymnastics -- I got her all tricked out in ballet shoes, tap shoes, leotards, tights, skirts, and she refuses to go on account of the somersaults, which she thinks are absolutely horrifying.)  And to top it all off -- it bloody won't stop raining!  So, not much outdoor time either.  This means she follows me around the house getting wildly offended when I am cooking dinner ... or doing laundry ... or one of the many other things I have to do during the day.  And it causes me to start yelling, 'Go Play!  Go find your brother and play with him!' -- which she does all the time, in between her full schedule of feeling very tragic and sorry for herself. 

Take last week, for instance.  I was trying to get laundry done and she laid on the floor right beside the dirty clothes, demanding I drop everything to go and play 'Baby Jesus' with her.  I responded that this was impossible at the moment, but maybe later.  She then starts sobbing that 'Anybody doesn't want me!'  Seriously?  What is she even talking about?!  So -- Emilia won, sort-of.  I dropped the laundry, picked her up, gave her loads of hugs, and then played 'Baby Jesus' with her for five minutes before I had to get dinner going.  The girl does not understand that if we are going to have clean clothes, someone must wash them.  And that if we are going to eat something, then someone must make it.  And this brings me to rhubarb muffins.

These are the muffins I made the last day of school and again a few days ago.  They are so good.  Little Leo, who finally broke the twenty pound mark in his weight, can't get enough of them. Yesterday he  had his big bowl of oatmeal and fruit for breakfast -- and two muffins.  (The day before that, his whole breakfast and a scone.  The day before that, his whole breakfast and one and a half pancakes.  You get the idea.)  Anyway, they are fairly easy -- so long as you are down with lifting rhubarb from your neighbors' backyard in the most sly manner you can muster.  Last week my sly manner involved ridiculous sock-monkey pajamas, wellies, and a long British riding sweater.  Rather impressive, one might say.  Oh, and before I forget, the muffins freeze beautifully.

Rhubarb Muffins with Almond Streusel
makes about 18

For the streusel:
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 cup chopped almonds

For the muffins:
unsalted butter, for greasing
3 cups flour, plus more for pan
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup sour cream
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped and reserved
12 ounces rhubarb (about 2 medium stalks), cut into 1/4-inch pieces

Make the streusel:  Mix together flour, both sugars,zest, salt, and almond extract in a small bowl.  Add the butter and, using your fingers, rub it into the flour mixture until large clumps form and all is integrated.  Stir in the almonds and then transfer to the fridge to wait until you are ready to use.

Make the muffins:  Heat the over to 350F.  Grease and flour --  or line muffin tins.  (I used papers which was a smashing idea, I must say.)  Whisk together 2 3/4 cups flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl.  In another bowl, which together the sour cream, both sugars, oil, eggs, and vanilla seeds.  (I used vanilla paste here because I was a lazy sod.)  Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until just combined.  In a small bowl, toss the rhubarb with the remaining 1/4 cup flour until evenly coated.  Then stir rhubarb into the batter.  Scoop batter into pans, scatter streusel over the top , and bake until golden brown and a tester comes out clean -- about 30 minutes.  Let cool for 10 minutes.  (Recipe from Saveur Magazine, May 2012.)