shopping in style

The other day, I was heading out on a late evening trip to the grocery store with the little ones. It had been a long day of spills and shirt changes, and the clothes I had on Jonathan weren't exactly a perfect match. He had actually crossed over to red firetruck pajama bottoms, a blue Wall E long sleeve T, and had shoes that matched nothing. I was trying to decide if I should change everything, or just put a jacket on? Not enough time, too hot. I did the next best thing- grabbed an orange Tigger hat for him so it would look like my 2 year old had dressed himself. Boys will be boys, not much a mom can do.

I CAN have my cake, and eat it too. But it's not all it's cracked up to be.

I finished making the cake yesterday, it ended up being 3 layers (after destroying one of my homemeade cake halves transferring it out of the pan, I discovered it was actually still pretty delicious, even with the baking mishaps) and had a really ooey gooey frosting that was reminiscent of fluff. I put on a few finishing touches, and stuck the candles in early. They were trick "sparkler" candles and were long enough to poke all the way down. I figured it would add stability, so I put them all in. ("What do you mean you're not 18, Josh?) After getting everyone in the car, I put the cake on the passenger side and proceeded to back out of the driveway to pick up James. Halfway down our road, I realized just how difficult this cake would be to transport. I had put it on my glass cake pedestal, which probably wasn't the best idea. I gave up early trying to find a box to put it in, and that probably wasn't wise either. I had to hold onto the rim to keep it from tipping when I stopped my car. This was difficult when I was slowing to a stop, even going 25 mph, and haunting visions of coming off the exit ramp from 81 began to fill my mind. I ended up picking the cake up at my next available opportunity, and held where the pedestal meets the cake plate for the rest of the ride. Everything was going alright until the heat caught up with the clouds. White avalanches started to gather up at the edges. I shrieked in terror, and in a flurry grabbed them with my driving hand and let my leg handle the wheel. I didn't have any good option to deposit these snowdrifts, so I shoved a handful in my mouth and went for the wheel again. When I was merging onto 81, a falling chunk of cake made my blood run cold. I turned the wheel back over to my left leg and shoved that piece in too. About this time a group of 30 or so motorcyclists got on the highway, just before I needed to get in their lane to exit. There was no way I could get out of signaling this time, so my frosting-laden steering wheel got a matching accessory. Once I did get over, and motorcyclists started appearing on my left side, a series of people started looking in at me. They must have signaled to each other to come check out the driver of the red car. I can't imagine what I must have looked like, covered in frosting from chin to forehead, with a partial cake balancing precariously above my lap. My white-tinged hand was all but plastered to the wheel. At one point I was actually scooping up a cloud puddle that was on its way to my leg, and halfway to shoving it desperately into my mouth, when a couple on a motorcycle pulled up next to my window and gave me a laughing thumbs up. As I pulled off on the exit ramp, I started bawling. James said it was hard to contain his laughter as I pulled into the driveway at church, crying and frowning with a cake face. I burst out of the car. "Things did not go well. It's a good cake, but I don't think I'll be eating any more." A few moments later I found myself staring at the cake. "Do we have to take it to the party? Can't I just leave it here?"
On the way to Cortland, the long candles started to cause something of a continental divide. The cake was on the verge of splitting down the middle, but fortunately it survived the trip. Thankfully, my nephew is the very easy going type. I don't think his opinion of cake will change anytime soon, and I'm ok with that. I think this experience may have even changed mine.

let them eat boxed mix.

One of my nieces and both of my nephews are extremely disinterested in most junk food. It's like, "Mom, do I have to eat my brownie?" Anyway, I offered to make my nephew his birthday cake for our family party, and had hoped to change his mind; show him how amazing a really good cake can be. I have yet to find a signature cake of my own, so I spent most of an hour (ok, maybe longer) searching in vain for an amazing cake recipe. I found several that would certainly be appealing to an adult, but wasn't sure how far I could delve into nut territory, for example, with a 10 year old. He also wanted a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, so any amazing chocolate candy bar frosting was out. Sigh. I nearly went with a chocolate hazelnut cake, which looked divine, (honestly, who doesn't like nutella?) but figured if I spent $30 and as many hours making a cake for a birthday party, I was slightly nuts myself. I finally went with a layer cake that had 2 candy bars in it. After all, how can you go wrong with candy bars?
As I was shopping for a couple of the ingredients, I decided I had better throw a box mix in the cart, just in case. I also grabbed a container of frosting, in case my white cloud recipe turned out more stratonimbus than cumulus.
Anyway, this morning as I was making the cake, I realized that there were no eggs in the recipe. I was extremely skeptical, and thought myself very clever as I reserved a little batter to make a test "cupcake." I went to check on the cake, which by all counts should have been done, and realized that in a braindead moment I had turned the oven off 20 minutes prior when retrieving my test cupcake. Excellent. I had hoped my oven retained heat *exceedingly* well, but, alas, this turned out not to be the case, and my fallen cake looked pretty desperate. Oh well. Dunkin Hines to the rescue.

perspective

I had my first experience with online forums/ baby support groups when Jonathan was about 4 months old. He was going through a phase where he wanted to be held constantly, and I was at my wits end. My housework was piling up around me, and I was tired of listening to him cry. Desperate, I did a Google search for "can't put my baby down," hoping to find some good advice, or at least a reassurance that it was normal and would pass. What I found instead were dozens of people who had it far worse than I did. "I have to hold my child all the time, even when I go to the bathroom." "I can't even have to shower, I have to take shallow baths where I can hold him too." "I only have 10 minutes to cook dinner when my husband is home." "I haven't had deep sleep in months because the only way she will sleep is in bed with me." I couldn't believe the responses and "support" these people received. "Don't worry, before you know it she will be crawling and content to be on her own, just get through these next 5 months..." I can't believe how many people just took for granted that 6 months of velcro-baby was the norm. I'm sorry, but the last thing I want to do is have a baby on me knee in the bathroom (well, every time that is. No comment on occasional occurances). I think I would go crazy.
From that moment, yahoo answers has been my go-to place for perspective. When I was pulling my hair out with sleep problems in my 2 year old, I read about little ones that scream the first hour they are awake. When I distraught with temper tantrums, I couldn't wait to read other people's troubles. Any frustration my child has is just a google search away from looking like a blessing.