Where Do Mini Fridges Come From?

At one time or another I have commented that these kids are all just like their father.  Typically, the observation comes after they do something either really smart or really stupid, which is fairly often.  It is slightly more rare, however, that I will notice any mini-me tendencies in them.  Except when they do something super awesome or funny.  Like Kid C this morning.

Kid B is at summer school.  Not really.  Well, she is at school, but it is a Summer Bridge Program for rising 9th graders so she can fit a second language (Latin, of course) into her schedule next year.  She is taking a health class.  The first day she brought home a parent permission slip for me to sign so they can teach her sex education at school.  When it comes to information, I believe “the more, the merrier,” and it is always interesting to hear my kids recount the versions they get from the public school arena, so I enthusiastically signed off on that.

Anyway, the rest of my chickens were hanging out in the basement this morning.  Kid A was Instagramming, Kid D was watching baseball/ playing MLB 2K12 on the X-Box, Kid E was pretending to be a puppy (complete with sound effects) and Kid C was pretending to be his owner.

Kid C was quickly bored with her little brother.  I was half-listening/ half not when I heard her tell him that he’d better behave or he was going to the pound.  Hey… at least she didn’t say that she would drive him back to the foster mom’s house after 48 hours (Undercover Awesome), right?

Then she started a totally different conversation with herself…

“There once were these two refrigerators.  They used their ice makers as a mating call.  When they drop the ice and make the sound at the same time it sends an electronic pulse, and then they make a baby… and that’s how mini fridges are formed!”

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I am definitely signing the sex ed permission slip for THAT kid when the time comes.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

A Monkey in Pajamas

Apparently, I have always been weird.

 Exhibit "A"

Exhibit “A”

This is the front of a postcard that I sent to Sister C when I was in college and she was in middle school and she was stuck at home with mono.

And to further prove my point, here is what I wrote on the back…

Postcard to Sister C

I am trying to remember if the whole microwave-as-a-clothes-dryer thing actually worked.  College was awesome.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…

Let Them Eat Cake

Making breakfast every morning is not so bad, especially since most of my kids can pour their own cereal and milk.  I will even occasionally make them an omelette or cheesy eggs or pancakes when it strikes my fancy.

Making sandwiches every afternoon can sometimes get my goat, especially since I have to line up the bread in assembly line fashion, 14 slices at a time.  But I still spread the peanut butter and stack the turkey breast and cheese with love, because lunch lady duty is certainly not the worst chore in the world.

Making dinner every night is what sometimes makes me vexed, especially when I plan and shop and prepare and chop and sauté and grill and boil and toil, only to be met with insulting commentary from the peanut gallery.

“Can I have a sandwich for dinner?”
 
“What’s that smell?” followed by a gagging noise.
 
“What’s for dinner tonight?  Can I stop and pick up something because I’m REALLY hungry?”
 
“Is there any leftover pizza?”

Ingrates.

But my favorite thing to do in the kitchen is bake.  I just love making cupcakes and cookies and pies and muffins and cakes.  Especially the cakes!  I love the smells that fill the house and I love flour on the counters and the perfect sweetness of a really good vanilla extract.  I learned my mad baking skills from my mom and from her mom as well.  They showed me how to sift flour and to grease a pan and to whip cream into perfectly stiff peaks.  They taught me to bake bread and pie crusts and fill cream puffs, all made from scratch.  I learned how to flavor and spread real icing, drizzle chocolate melted in a double-boiler, and how to make art come out of a pastry bag.  The rest I have learned from watching hours of cooking shows and even more hours of trial and error.  There is little that can make me so happy as a cake made and decorated in my own kitchen to celebrate someone I love.

As I have struggled with my stupid thighs and general time management over the years, so I have used mixes and canned shortcuts and cheaters, and even foregone the desserts altogether.  It was just easier that way.  I bought finished products right from the grocery store.  It got the job done, but it just wasn’t the same thing.  Oh, how I have missed real baking.  I missed it so much!

Kid E contributed the last quality of “A Good Friend.”  Cake is awesome.

I recently rediscovered the love and I started baking again.  This time around I mix the old school with a few shortcuts, and I try not to sample the goods as much.  I also try to have a reason for baking… holidays, birthdays, rainy days, PMS… you know, something legit.  We celebrate five family birthdays throughout the month of September, two in this house alone, so I have had an excuse to bake until my heart is content.

Kid E’s 5th birthday came first and he let me bake him the moon.  I made 24 cupcakes to bring to his school, a traditional double-layer round decorated cake which we used to sing “Happy Birthday” to him on his birthday, and an additional 24 cupcakes to “have around.”  What?  Cupcake Emergencies are a real thing.  I even let him choose icing colors and decorate his own cake.  It was fabulous.

“Happy Birthday” written out by mom. Lego guys (one on a chain), Super Mario character with a broken wing, Double X-eyed guy, blue plastic bear, and a “See No Evil” monkey all added by Kid E.

When Kid B’s 14th birthday rolled around, you’d think that I was all baked out, but no!  I was on a roll.  Bring on the sheet cakes, bring on the fancy decorations.  I set aside a day just for baking on the weekend prior to her actual birthday.  My mixer and my spatula were ready.  I was about to explode with the baking love.  I even offered to try making icing roses (if she wanted a girly cake), or an icing field that looked like actual grass (if she opted for the soccer theme).

So, I guess it was predictable that teenage Kid B asked for an ice cream cake from the store.

Sigh.

I definitely feel a Cupcake Emergency coming on now.

Wish me luck for tomorrow…