Mommy’s Yummy Bread: How a Jar of Flour Became a Full-Time Family Member

I didn’t plan on having another “thing” to take care of.

And yet… there’s a jar on my counter that requires regular feedings, a stable environment, and emotional support. It doesn’t cry, but it does dramatically collapse if ignored.

Meet my sourdough starter.

Feeding Time (No, Not for the Kids)

My starter needs to be fed on a schedule. If I forget, it gets moody. If I overdo it, it gets weird. And if I change its routine too suddenly, it lets me know… by doing absolutely nothing.

Honestly, it fits right in with the rest of the household.

I check on it more than I check my phone. I move it around the kitchen so it’s “not too cold.” I’ve definitely said things like, “Okay buddy, let’s try again tomorrow.”

This is my life now.

Why I Call It a Pet

You can’t rush a starter. You can’t force it. You can’t yell at it (I tried—didn’t help). You just show up consistently and trust that it’s doing its thing even when it looks like nothing is happening.

Which, inconveniently, feels a lot like parenting.

Every loaf I bake starts with this jar. And somehow, this weird little science experiment turned into the foundation of my micro-bakery—and my sanity.