Crazycakes

Today was my eleventh wedding anniversary. I've been out of town, but I came home in time to have a special dinner with the Man and our girls, to celebrate. As a special treat, I decided to order a replica of our wedding cake top, from the same supermarket chain. I don't usually buy bakery cakes, so this was a real splurge.

Our wedding cake was tasteful. It was a basket weave pattern, with fresh pansies on the top. (And down the side, but that's a different story.) It looked much like this, but with pansies instead of orchids. (Are those orchids?)

I called the bakery, and gave really specific instructions, but when I went to pick it up, they handed me this:

Now, I ask you, does that bear ANY resemblance to the original cake? Other than the basket weave? And that's not much of a resemblance, because, though you may not be able to tell from this photo,  on the new cake the basket weave is bright yellow!  I said to the guy, "No, no, no, it's supposed to look like wedding cake! This looks like crazy business! Why?"

His reply? "Well, when you say basket weave, that's what you get."

I stood silently, blinking at him. He called over the manager.

The manager was a young woman, and she completely understood that this was a serious situation. I said to her, "I don't usually splurge, but I would've, to recreate my wedding cake, but this is... crazy madness."

She got it. She said she understood that I must be truly disappointed. She then told me to pick any cake in the bakery, and there would be no charge.

I, of course, picked this one:

She asked me if I thought it would feed everyone I needed to feed, and I assured her that it would. (Since really, how much cake do two adults, a teenager, and a five year old need?) Then I started feeling guilty. I didn't want to deceive the lady into thinking I was throwing some sort of bash, when it was just a family party. (Not that I said anything to imply that, but still.) I mean, I'm sure the crazy cake tastes good, right? Can't we just take it home, laugh about it, and move on? I told the lady to forget about the chocolate one, I'd just take the wacky one.


Can you guess how this story ends? Yup, she insisted we take both cakes. For free. Happy anniversary! And also, mmmmmm...

Nearly Wordless Wednesday, the "What my husband didn't win for me at the fair" Edition

(and I think I may have actually needed a giant Rasta banana.)

Life, with Sound Effects

We were recently lucky enough to have a day at Disney World. Yaay us! Also, yaay for my cousin, who works there and got us tickets.

In any event, we had a great time. One of my all time favorite Disney rides is Splash Mountain, wherein characters from Song of the South sing cheery songs while visitors ride in logs down a lazy river, that suddenly turns into rapids, at which point the logs go over the waterfall.

MC and I rode together, and unfortunately, the ride was malfunctioning. Not too terribly, but the logs kept slowing down and stopping, and a cheery voice would announce that Brer Bear and Brer Fox were causing trouble downstream, and so on. We started to get a little bit nervous, because the logs kept getting closer and closer together, as we neared the crucial "heading up to the falls point". I had a terrible mental image of all the logs creeping up the track to the top, then careening into a pile up at the bottom of the drop. Tick tick tick tick KaSMASHo!

Nothing happened, we didn't die or anything, and in fact, the ride ended up being pleasantly uneventful, in a nice roller coaster-y sort of way. But when I retold the story to the Man, he was wildly entertained by my sound effects, and suggested that the next morning's paper would have featured, as its headline, "KaSMASHo!"

Funny thing is, I actually heard a sound tonight that I can only describe in the same way. I'm visiting my cousin, and we attempted to make au gratin potatoes in the oven. Strangely enough, within 5 minutes of putting the oven-safe dish into the preheated oven, KaSMASHo!

Were you aware that this is the sound an oven-safe dish full of cheesy potatoes makes when it explodes over every inch of the oven?

Veggie-tarians

The Man is a vegetarian. I am decidedly not, and I am anti-vegetarianism when it comes to children. I'm sure there are plenty of vegetarian parents who raise perfectly healthy kids, with very balanced diets and plenty of proteins, but the research I'd have to do to make that happen in my world is way more than I care to manage. I know how to raise omnivores, and I'm ok with that. 

Meanwhile, if it weren't for me, I'm pretty sure that the Man would live on pasta and muffins. Well, ok, there would be yogurt, eggs and cheese, too, but he is not a very vegetably vegetarian. I try to provide healthier options for him, and I'm pretty good at always incorporating vegetables into the meal. My kids, all three of them, are really good about eating vegetables. Small loves butternut squash soup, for example, and salads with no dressing. 

She also, however, likes cheeseburgers. She likes them so much, in fact, that her fourth birthday party was cheeseburger themed, right down to the cheeseburger cupcakes

. 

She is not a huge fan of steaks, and other meats that are hard for her to chew, but she enjoys bacon as much as the next girl, and really appreciates a good piece of fried chicken. 

As anyone who knows her can attest, though, she is the penultimate Daddy's girl. Daddy is king of the world. He's very smart (knows everything about black holes!) and extra tall. She is like him in so many ways, it is not surprising that she sometimes considers emulating his dietary choices. 

Yesterday, she said to me, "When I grow up, I'm going to be a veggie-tarian."

I looked at her askance. She was eating a chicken tender, really relishing it. I asked her why she was thinking about that, and she said that she really does not like to eat animals. I pointed out her cheeseburger affection, and the chicken in her hand, and I may have mentioned bacon. 

Her response? "Well, I don't like to eat pets."

I told her that was probably fine, that people do not generally eat their pets. She countered that some people eat hamsters, (by which she actually meant guinea pigs), and other people eat cats and dogs. I confirmed that this is true, but told her she was not in much danger of eating those things, since no one we know has that sort of dietary practice.

She asked me if anyone eats turtles or frogs. I told her that yes, people do, and they also eat alligators. I explained that, especially in the days before grocery stores were so prevalent, people needed to figure out how to eat whatever was within their reach. For people in certain swampy environments, that sometimes meant that they learned to eat frogs, turtles, and alligators. Then I asked her, what would she eat if she lived in a swamp?

She thought for a minute, and then said, "Lettuce. I'd find where some lettuce was growing, and eat that. Because vegetables like lettuce grown everywhere."

I let it go. I don't know whether lettuce grows in the swamp, but anyway, it's pretty pointless to argue with someone who already has it all figured out.

Traveling Times

This summer, I took my girls on a road trip, through Kentucky, up to Chicago, down to Bloomington, Il, over to St Louis (to see the arch)...

We also went back to the town from which we moved a year ago several times. We typically go once a month, sometimes twice. Then in October, we took a week long Florida vacation (pure bliss!) complete with beach and Disney World.

So, about a week ago, Small One says to me, "Mommy, why don't we travel any more?"

Ha! I am absolutely delighted to know that somewhere, amidst the gigantic cluster of her father's personality traits, there is at least a glimmer of me. She's inherited my wanderlust.

Anyhoo, we are on the road again. My cousin, to whom I am extremely close, has had to have major surgery, and I'm going to try and be of some assistance. MC is staying home, and the Man has to work, but since my work is portable, and Small is only in preschool, we're off. Interesting, though, the four hour road trip we made today. Here are some things I learned:

• Small does not like meteors. Because "Astronauts are floating around up there, and they are wearing helmets and stuff like that, but they can still get killed by a meteor."
• In fact, she's not so sure being an astronaut is such a great plan, since there are a bunch of dangerous things out there, including the sun, which has fire on it, and also, space dust. She doesn't seem clear on what space dust does, but it does not seem good.
• If anyone lived on Jupiter, they would not be able to move, because there is too much gravity. People on Jupiter would be very short, and would not be able to move. She told me this by way of warning, in case I was considering a move to Jupiter. Her advice? Don't do it.
• Giraffes are the coolest animals in the world. This is because they have super long necks.
• Penguins are the coolest ducks in the world. What's that you say? Penguins are not ducks? Ok, well, they are the coolest birds in the world that are not ducks. Or rather, they are the coolest water birds. 
• Not only that, but they are the biggest birds in the world. Other than flamingos, of course. What? No, they are super big. They're only a couple of feet tall? Well, that is super big for a bird. Oh yeah, maybe ostriches are bigger. But even ostriches are not bigger than Daddy, because Daddy is super tall.(Mom's note: Dad is 5'9", maybe 5'10". So...)

All in all, a very informative trip. 

Love and Death

Today, I'm sad about my husband's grandfather. He passed away yesterday, and his funeral will be held tomorrow. The Man will be there, but I will not, primarily out of respect for the family. I am not close to my husband's family, which is not the way I want it, but I am not going to force the issue at such a sad time.

I will be thinking of all of them, though, with affection and sympathy. "Papa" Paul was a great man. I didn't know him well, because the family situation has prevented it. I read his memoir, though, and I have nothing but respect for him. He was interesting, intelligent, and successful. He lead a fascinating life, raised a family, and lived into his nineties. He was roundly adored by his children and grandchildren.

I wish I'd gotten to know him, but more than that, I wish my Small had known him. Because we live far from the grandparents, and because we are not close to that side of the family, Small only had the opportunity to meet him twice, and she does not remember him. I tried to keep them up to date on her life, through photos and notes, but I will admit I was not as good about it as I should have been. It was hard, because I am not someone with whom that side of the family attempts to connect.

It makes me think, though, about how minor our gripes with each other really are. I don't mean the issues between me and my in-laws in particular, but the complaints between people in general. When my own grandmother passed away, earlier this year, I felt sad about times I could have spent with her and didn't. I knew she loved me, she knew I loved her, but I could have sent more photos, made time for more visits, stayed longer and listened more willingly. Now, facing another funeral, I feel the same heaviness of heart.

My friend's mother passed away last week. She was not sick for very long, in the grand scheme of things. She was about the same age as my mother, I think, and beautiful. She looked strong, but she was not. I saw her a couple of weeks before she died, and I knew at that point that she was not responding well to treatment, but I had no idea that was the last time I'd ever see her. I patted her arm, told her I was praying for her, but if I'd known that was the last time, I would have hugged her.

If I'd known my husband's grandfather was going to be gone so quickly, I would have encouraged forced done whatever it took to make him go visit his grandparents before it happened. But isn't that the sort of thing we always say? I know it's the sort of thing I always say. I'm going to visit more, complain about people less, send more notes, more photos, make more phone calls. I'm going to share the good things in my life with the people I love while I still have the chance. I'm going to forgive more easily. Better yet, I'm going to decline to take offense in the first place. I'm going to choose not to take offense, to resist pressing my own agenda.

I always say it, and I always attempt it, but I'm not "there" yet. I want to love with abandon, or at least more assertively. I want to love my mother-in-law whether she wants me to or not. And I want to encourage my uncommunicative husband to communicate, because he cares, he just doesn't always show it.

How about you? Do you show it? Are you purposefully conscious of the uncertainty of life? Do you strive to love abundantly, and without reservation?

Several months back, I read a familiar passage of scripture in a different translation. It struck me, and now I read it all the time, whenever I need to remember how we're supposed to love each other, and what that really means. And so, I'll leave you with this, because loving like this is the ultimate goal of my life.

1st Corinthians 13: 4-8 (From the J.B. Phillips translation):

This love of which I speak is slow to lose patience- it looks for a way of being constructive. It is not possessive: it is neither anxious to impress, nor does it cherish inflated ideas of its own importance. 

Love has good manners and does not pursue selfish advantage. It is not touchy. It does not keep account of evil or gloat over the wickedness of other people. On the contrary, it shares the joy of those who live by the truth. 

Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love never fails.

The Morning After

Has this ever happened to you? You're out at night, looking fierce and fabulous, just absolutely glowing. You're in fine form, to say the least.

 

The next morning, though, it's a different story.  Something is seriously up with your head, you're feeling a little shriveled and somewhat worse for wear. And don't get me started on the snail that's crawling up your lip.

Ok, maybe not the snail part. But the rest of it, I'm pretty sure we've all been there.

Road to the Whitehouse... 2044?

Small One is pretty ambitious, and likes to make plans. For about a year now, she has been telling anyone who will listen that when she grows up, she is going to write books and make movies. Specifically, she will be "a guy who writes books and makes movies". (Guy being a completely genderless, favorite word of hers,  indicating a person.)

She's a little bit impatient about not being in the movies or on television yet, and she questions me about that quite a bit. Clearly, her lack of involvement in the entertainment industry is my parental failing. She is also concerned that those of us who know her now may not be savvy enough to determine which books and movies are her creations, and so we might miss something. We've all assured her that we will stay in touch with her, so that she can keep us abreast of her projects.

Over the summer, she learned to swim, and decided that she will also be a lifeguard. This is something she will do when she's a teenager, though, and not an adult. She's still planning on the books and movies track for adulthood.

Except... she may also want to be president. She's torn on this one, because she is not quite sure of how involved American presidents are in wars, and she absolutely does not want to be a soldier and go off to war. We told her that it is not necessary to be a soldier in order to become president, but that she will have to make good choices, and do well in school.

This is no problem, she assured us, saying "I'm always good in school! I never put my blanket in my mouth, like some of my friends do."

Well, ok! How very presidential! I know that is the first thing I ask about any candidate. Forget the economy, what is his or her stance on blankets in the mouth?

Halloween with the Creatures, part deux

Small One was the best five year old ever on Halloween. She had good manners trick or treating, looked adorable, and when she helped us hand out candy, she not only complimented each trick or treater's costume, but she also offered up her own haul, when we ran out of candy. Of course, as usual, she was also pretty quotable...

Designing a Jack o' Lantern: "I want the pumpkin to have a frowny mouth, angry eyes, and tears. He is so mad he's crying!"

Later, to a neighbor we do not know: "Did you see our Jack o' Lantern? He's got tears, and he's mad at his kid."

On zombies: "Zombies are the scariest monsters, I think. Because they look like guys that are hurt, but when you go over to them, to try and help them, they eat you."

Note: all she knows of zombies is that a little boy was dressed like one in the grocery store, and when she asked me what he was supposed to be, I said a zombie, which is a type of monster. Yet, strangely, she has a pretty firm grasp of the concept. Is zombie knowledge innate?

Halloween with the Creatures, part 1

I hinted at an update, and I promise I'm going to start rewinding soon, but wanted to share some Halloween moments while they are still fresh.

First, I mentioned the pink poodle obsession... more on that later, but suffice it to say, when I asked what she wanted to be for Halloween, she looked at me like I was crazy. A pink poodle, of course! Duh.

MC was torn on her costume ideas. She had some really good sci-fi related thoughts, but I'm not going to share them here, for fear of retribution. She likes to hang onto her ideas. She finally decided that she'd be Alice in Wonderland, and the boyfriend would be the Mad Hatter. Have I mentioned the boyfriend? MC has quite a serious boyfriend these days. Like, talking about marriage, serious.

I should probably be more freaked out about that, but I'm not. He's an Eagle Scout, so... 

Anyway, they wanted to do  a couple's costume, so the hunt began for an Alice in Wonderland dress. This was a challenge, because she did not want "Sexy Alice", which is pretty much all they sell in adult sizes. My sister rose to the occasion and took her to a mack daddy costume shop, to no avail. I took her here and there, spent some time poring over pattern books... finally, we had two days left, and we determined to spend the whole day looking for the costume. Twelve hours of shopping for a blue dress. Twelve. By hour 10, we were about to pass out, and a kind and well-meaning saleslady mentioned that blue dresses are really hard to find. Oh, really? Thanks for letting us know!  By hour eleven, MC was grasping at anything blue she happened to see. 

I said "I feel like you'd take a blue sock if you saw one, and call it a costume."

She said "Yes! I would! I'd be Alice in Wondersock!"

We hit the fabric store again, and she found a pattern that alleged to be "very easy", but required darts and gathers. I began to hyperventilate at the idea of sewing darts and gathers when I had a 24 hour timeline. She saw the panic on my face and decided we should skip it.

At hour twelve, we found a blue dress. It did not, for the record, look like Alice in Wonderland, but it was blue. I went to look for accessories, and she called me on the phone to tell me that she'd discussed it with her boyfriend, and they'd decided to be wizards instead, which would involve her buying a sparkly shirt she wanted anyway, and making a construction paper hat. What it would not involve was me sewing anything. Best costume idea ever.