I’ve never made cookies before, unless you count pouring in the chocolate chips while my mom stirs the dough.  But I’ve been doing so well with this new cooking thing, I thought I’d try my hand at baking.  I made brownies – from scratch, not a box! – a couple weeks ago that were divine.  J said they were the best brownies he’d ever had.  This is why I love my husband.

So with that glowing experience under my belt, I decided to make cookies.  I dragged Little J’s jumperoo into the kitchen, plopped him in, turned on some music, set up all my ingredients…then had to put the eggs back in the fridge while I took my crying baby out of his jumperoo and gave him a little extra attention.

Half an hour later, Little J was happily bouncing away while I double-checked my ingredients.  All went well for a bit – I measured, Little J jumped, and we both sang/squealed along to the music.

Then I plugged in the hand mixer.

Right before I turned it on, I felt a little shiver of apprehension – I’ve never used an electric mixer before.  It seemed like not the best idea to have moving parts in a bowl of sugar and margarine.  Still, it was right there in the directions – “Beat with electric mixer on medium speed until creamy.”  How bad could it be?

Well.

Maybe the margarine wasn’t soft enough.  Maybe the bowl was too small.  Maybe the speeds on my little electric hand mixer were too rough.  Maybe I need lessons on how to use an electric hand mixer.

After five seconds I knew this would not end well.  But I was in too deep to scrap the whole mess into the garbage.  I soldiered on, trying to ignore the little – and big – bits of cookie dough flying onto the cookbook, the floor, my shirt.

Things improved a little, mix-wise, after I added the eggs.  And then headed right back downhill when I tried to add the flour & baking soda.  It was at this point that Little J decided he wanted no part of this mixing business.  As I watched little puffs of flour swirl around my head and listened to my baby grumble, I weighed my options.  I chucked the mixer and dove in, hands first.  (Should have taken my wedding band off, but oh well).

And before you baking experts tell me IT’S NOT THE SAME!!, yes, I know that.  But the mixer obviously wasn’t working out, and with Little J revving up to a good cry, I just wanted to get it done.

Anyway, fast forward to the actual baking.  Let’s just say mixing by hand had a very obvious effect on the dough.  At least, I’m assuming that was the reason for the cookies I ended up with.  But I’m not a baker, so what do I know?  (Not much, apparently.)

Behold…my mini-cookies!

They were probably about an inch in diameter.  But you know what?  They taste good!  At least I think so, but I’ll eat any cookie you throw at me.  I was going to bring some over to the neighbors, but I’ll wait till Big J has one and confirms their delicious-ness.

If you’re wondering, they’re Chippy Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies.  And I still have a sh*tload of dough left.