big in my britches

It is fairly common knowledge to people who know me that I cannot make fudge. I make some absolutely phenomenal frosting or it can fossilize into a massive chocolate boulder. But despite my best efforts, I haven't ever made fudge successfully. fine. I'm at peace with that. I can bake some other terrific yummies. I can follow lots of complicated recipes and love whipping up delicious treats especially at the holidays.

One thing my friends and family will not be enjoying out of my kitchen is meringue. I have what appears to be a pretty straight-forward recipe for mint chocolate meringues [I think it should be a clue that I cannot even spell it]. But Twelve, 12!! Twelve egg whites later I've still got sweet, liquid goo.

Cecilia, HELP?!?!

cookies anyone??

Mommy: what color frosting do you want


Sammy: purple

















Sammy: how do I do these [sprinkles]


working hard...

Sammy: I need to eat this one.


Sammy: Can I have another
Mommy: No, let's share them
Sammy: This one's for Daddy

Mommy: stifling an evil laugh











Sammy: I need to do more

Christmas Magic

This is the first year I truly feel that the magic of Christmas is my responsibility to create. This is not a feeling of omnipotentence, rather a sweet, tender love for three year old who believes. Sure the 19 month olds will enjoy the barage of goodies on Christmas, but they have a list of favorite carols, frost the cookies, act as guarding over the Advent calendar and give those beaming smiles coupled with twinkling eyes for every mention of Santa. He had a sleigh on his Advent calendar chocolate and announced, unprompted that Santa would be coming on his sleigh! Every day, it is a topic of conversation, so that if the kid's head is about to explode in 9 days that it is probably my fault since I've had the All Xmas All the Time radion station on for three weeks, light the tree 14 hours a day and bring him to the mall three times a week [legitimately for an exercise class, but its got decorations, trains and Santa's every dripping from every surface]. I feel like Scott and I are on this covert mission to make magic and in the process regressing ourselves to the youthful glee that makes this time of year so special.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Bedtime

Here's the usual routine: brush teeth, read a story, say our prayers and go to bed. Easy, yes? no.

TEETH: We've got to have the right tooth paste. The current fave is Burt's Bees. It's orange.

STORY: The story is chosen selectively. Usually we go through a period of repetition. This afternoon we read a new one that need to be revisited tonight. It is called "How a House is Built". It is a very, VERY detailed book properly labeling the joists, outlining the steps of pouring the concrete footings and even explaining that the General Contractor is responsible for making sure the project is done on time. The subcontractors are lined up and named.

Upon the second reading, Sammy wanted to know about the "plumbs". I told him that Grampa Stoddard was a plumber. He wanted to know what they did and why. Why do they put in pipes? Why are they plumbers? What are the pipes for? He landed on two decisions after all this info. 1. He wants to be a plumber 2. He like the picture of the septic tank best [its picture shows it being installed with a dozer]

We've read this story twice. I'm waiting for the reflective questions to pop. Stay tuned.

PRAYERS: Moving right along. Teeth? check. Story? check. Prayers a.k.a. GodBlessYous.

First he starts by waiving Jesus on to second with a complicated pat down of signals loosely based on the sign of the cross. Occassionally, the Father has a Daughter. Then the Lord's Prayer. I'm hoping for a diety with a sense of humor, not the angry, vengeful God of the Middle Ages since his Prayer is only mostly memorized. He tries and does very well, but it is loaded with words that Sam neither knows nor understands. Example? "Hallowed be Thy name" or "Have a be the game"

GodBlessYous always start with Daddy, Mommy, Aidan, Noah, Rocky, Isabelle, Emmit. Tonight he stopped dead. Emmit had to move away yesterday. Sammy wasn't quite sure what to do now. I quickly jumped in with a "special bless you for Emmit in his new home". Sam's day can be gauged by who comes after the pets. Tonight it was Grampa Stoddard (remember the plumber). Then Granny and Pop Wilks. Out of character, he lept from the New England relatives to Aunt Cecelia. (Emmit's mom). He was brief tonight and finished quickly with the immediate family.

SLEEP!! no. He was playing with his brothers in their room this afternoon, where he left a few favorite animals (who are always mentioned in the GodBlessYous). Specifically, he was missing Brown Doggie. I was tired, he was tired. We hugged and kissed and I promised him that we'd find Brown Doggie first thing in the morning. He gave a half-hearted protest. I blew him a kiss and closed the door.

Not a peep since. whew.

quote of the day

I brought Noah into the kitchen today for breakfast. Sam popped his head up from the french toast to sing, "Good morning, pretty pants!!!"