Iron Man

My husband does the most peculiar things in the morning. I don't know if it is because he is mostly still asleep or if this is his optimal time for weirdness, either way his early morning actions fascinate me!

For instance - yesterday morning a full bladder woke me at 5am with an unbending urgency. After adhering to the call of nature I stumbled downstairs in search of my early bird husband to give him a quick peck before climbing back into bed.

As I entered our family room I came across a scene so disturbing I was sure I must still be sleeping. There stood Danny in front of the ironing board, dressed for work in dark slacks and a white dress shirt, fully heated iron in hand.....and here is the kicker......he was attempting to iron his shirt ON HIS BODY!

I stood motionless, mouth open like a cod fish, as I witnessed this odd display of male reasoning. With each pass of the hot iron up and down his chest he would make disturbing "Ouch, Ouch Ouch" sounds and the occasional " Hot! Hot! Hot!" remarks, all while blowing air out his mouth like an 8 year old puffing out candles on his birthday cake.

I still stood confused in the door way, unsure of how to process the scene in front of me.

"Honey" I ventured. "Wouldn't it make more sense to take off your shirt before ironing it"

"No time" he slurred durning an exceptionally impressive exhale while pressing his pectoral region with the hot iron.

Steam billowed above his head and the distinct smell of burning hair lingered in the air creating a full sensory experience.

Convinced that I would be of no help to this mad man and his torturous early morning experiments, I turned and headed back to bed.

About 4 hours later I received this email from my darling man at work "Hi honey, I think I burned my nipples pretty bad this morning. They are bright red and feel like they are on FIRE! Can you find me the first aid burn cream so I can use it when I get home? Thanks"

I guess the only thing I can say is I'm sure glad his dress pants were wrinkle free! LOL

School lunches

Yesterday Danny approached me with an air of arrogance "Guess who says I'm the best school lunch maker?" I stopped reading my book and glanced up at him " ummmm kaila?" was my half hearted guess. "Oh yeah" he bragged "According to our very observant 8 year old I'm even better than you" He grinned wide exposing all his top and bottom teeth.

He went on to brag about how this innocent, yet obviously perceptive child, had explained to him how he always put the best food in the lunches he pack never forgetting to add in special touches like hand written notes and surprises at the bottom.....his attention to detail makes all her friends jealous and "wish they had such awesome dads" and I quote.

Studying my face and finding it lacking in significant jealousy my dear naive husband demanded to know why I wasn't foaming at the mouth in envy. I smiled the smile of a knowing mother and explained. " The girls are in charge if making their own lunches you know? And as we both clearly have accepted our youngest is by far the laziest offspring we have yet to produce." he readily agreed.

"Well then let's think about this for a second shall we?" I tipped my head sideways in mock thought "Did you just spend the last 20 minutes packing her lunch for tomorrow?" he nodded suspiciously

"And let me guess you searched the pantry for several yummy treats -cookies, pudding cup, granola bar and added them ALL to her lunch, not just one like she knows is the rule right?" he glanced sideways choosing to avoid eye contact.

My tone became light and playful "Oh and I bet you carefully drew a cartoon image on her napkin and placed it proudly on top of her mountain of sugary treats, a monument of dad greatness?" he coughed uncomfortably

I continued "Finally you took the time to write her name with flare on the outside of the bag and even dotted the "I" in kaila with a flower instead of a plain old dot right?" He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"So" I recapped "your lazy, but brilliantly manipulative daughter, avoided making her lunch for tomorrow, she will not only enjoy the standard one dessert but 3, will receive a personalized note and custom artwork to show off to her friends AND she got to enjoy an extra 20 minutes of TV tonight while you prepared it all?" I finished this statement by leaning back in my seat and lacing my fingers together in a standard super villain pose. 

His smile was now replaced with a crestfallen expression.....he was a man who knew he had been doped.

I patted his arm lovingly. Don't worry about it love, you ARE the best school lunch packer in the family no matter the reason. he smiled weakly. "Hey and do you know what else you are AMAZING at?" I exclaimed with wide eyes "Rubbing feet! Seriously your hands are like magic!" he smiled at me appreciatively "Thanks babe" he sighed "You always know what to say to make me feel better" I batted my lashes at him and carefully stretched my achy feet into his lap and dramatically rubbed my growing pregnant belly.

"Hey why don't I grab the lotion and give you a foot rub" he innocently offered sweetly. I clasped my hands together in excitement. "That would be wonderful!" I said with obvious admiration and handed him the lotion bottle I just happen to have nearby.

Gosh I love that man! :)

The grass is always greener on the other side....literally

 It is only 8am and I have already broken two of the Ten Commandments. I have coveted my neighbor's lawn and murdered my husband....ok, maybe I haven't but it says in the scriptures even thinking something counts as if you have already done it....and boy am I thinking about it today!
 
A few weeks ago I nagged encouraged my sweetheart to perform his manly duties and pick up arms against the dandelion army that had invaded our front yard. They had organized themselves into a full frontal attack and I was darn tootin' that this year we would prevail! This meant war!
 
I rooted around in the garage until I found the super extra powerful weed killer that we had purchased at the end of last summer. I knew I had the right product since it showed a dandelion on the cover being tortured in an iron maiden.
  
We had been out smarted, out lasted, and out done by  annoying weeds since we had moved in 8 years prior and I was more than determined to do whatever was legally possible to administer a lethal dose of whoop A' to those little yellow lawn pimples . 

 Our neighbors all had nice green carpet like lawns. Some even flaunted their weed free flower beds and little upside down tomato and strawberry hanging plants (cough, cough, Brian). I couldn't even get things to grow right side up! Their mockery seemed completely unneighborly if you ask me. This year I would show them, I was determined that our lawn would be the talk of the neighborhood!
 
I found Danny hiding under a quilt in the linen closet. He said that he couldn't hear me calling him but from the shifty eyes I had my doubts.
 
I handed him the explode-a-weed and pointed to the front door. In the background I blasted the sound track to his favorite movie “Braveheart”. I then ceremoniously smeared on some Barbie makeup war paint and insisted he take off his shirt while I tugged on his Scottish kilt…. It was actually one of my daughter's pink plastic hula skirts but we were in a pinch and I figured it was close enough.
 
By the time I shoved him out the door, locking it firmly behind him, I must have done a pretty good job getting him into character because when he turned to look at me, with my face pressed against the front window and flashing him a a-o-k sign, his face read nothing but REVENGE! I almost felt sorry for the little buggers.
 
An hour later he triumphantly stumbled into the house. Pink War paint smeared with dirt ran down his face and his hula skirt kilt was in shambles. He grabbed me in a manly embrace, dipped me low and with the smolder of a baritone, declared victory over the front yard! His eager kiss oozed with pure warrior testosterone and tasted like strawberries from the Barbie shimmer lipgloss. It took my breath away!
 
By the next day, I was ready to view the battle field. How many bodies would I joyously trample beneath my feet on the way to the mail box? 10? 20? I relished the thought.
 
The first thing I noticed when stepping onto our front porch was the lack of weeds, just as I had hoped. Instead of holding their white seeded stems of mockery 5 inches high, they dropped centimeters from the ground...pathetically. They were suffering and I basked in their demise!
 
The second thing I noticed was the large yellowing rings that surrounded the dying enemy. Giant yellow ring of grass.....and they were everywhere!

I was greatly concerned and I immediately called Danny at work. "Why does our yard look like it has the measles?" I asked in my calm warning voice. "What did you do?"

He assured me that the yellowing was completely normal and just meant that the dandelions were well on their way to weed purgatory. "Nothing to worry your pretty little head over" he mocked lovingly into the phone. I figured his uncharacteristic cockiness stemmed from some sort of after war shell shock since he knows how much I love condescending sexist statements. Lucky for him 7 miles of phone line separated us, because if he was to have followed that remark with a head pat, I would have broken his arm.

Days passed and the demon dandelions continued to die.....and so did my yard. Within 4 days I had rivers of barren wasteland weaving its way through every inch of my grass like tiny crop circles.

Finally admitting concern, Danny dug up a clump of grass and we raced the sample to the lawn ER -Zamzowz. The yard guy met us with a grin. A few weeks earlier he had tried to sell us their lawn program at which we privately exchanged winks of superiority and said we were confidant we didn't need it since we knew what we were doing and had everything under control. I could tell from his demeanor he knew we would be back, tails tucked between our legs.

After a few tut tut's and heavy sighs he concluded that it might be possible to save the lawn. It was his suspicion that my 'handy man extraordinaire' may have used the wrong ratio of water to weed killer when mixing it. I shot Danny an accusing look but couldn't get his attention since he had his face buried in a game of angry birds. "I retain the best when I'm multi-tasking" he remarked without looking up, "it's just the way I process things".

We left the store with $40 in intensive care lawn products and strict instruction of the amount of application. Mix 1 cup per 1 gallon of water and saturate the dying areas. I repeated this to Danny 3 times on our way home until his eyes threw daggers in my direction.

"I can follow directions you know! There is no proof that what happened to our lawn is my fault!" he spit at me defensively. "You're right of course" I sweetly replied, "the fact that our yard looks like a dairy cow and every spot just happens to be in the exact places you used the weed killer has to be coincidence, right?" I matched his icy stare with one of my own. "Purely circumstantial” he whispered loudly enough for me to hear and refocused on driving.

Once home, Danny set to work administering lawn CPR while I prepared dinner. After he was done I remarked on how quickly he was able to apply the thrive to the lawn. "You used one cup per one gallon of water right" I asked skeptically

"Yes babe" he said exasperatedly, "It didn’t take that much you know, it's not like I was supposed to saturate it". My eyes widened in disbelief "YES" I yelled "it was EXACTLY like you were supposed to saturate it!”

He stared back at me blankly.
 
I found the bottle of thrive and took 3 deep breaths to calm myself. If measured correctly the entire bottle would have barely covered the whole front yard. It was still 3/4th full. I then grabbed the explode-a-weed and was anything but shocked to feel that only drops remained when it should have been mostly full.
 
Mystery of the disintegrating lawn solved.
 
It's been a week now and despite our efforts there has been little change. The Good news is that among the rolling tumble weeds and barren wasteland that streams through what remains of our front yard, some green has started to resurface ....the bad news is that it seems we have only managed to resurrect the weeds.
 

Oh goody.

Sour Milk

Last night we sat down to partake of our delicious meal of homemade Mac n cheese (the kind that is oozing with gooey goodness and leaves a string of melted cheddar from plate to mouth) when my youngest daughter, Kaila, made a startling comment. "This milk tastes like fish!"


We had just began eating and I had not had the opportunity to try my milk yet, and since we inhale milk at our house at an impressive rate, it has never, in 11 years of marriage, made it even close to an expiration date.


Kaila is known for her dramatics so I assumed we were gearing up for an award winning production of "let's blow everything out of proportion". So I gave her a stern look and a warning tone "drink your milk and if you keep complaining I'll assume you're dehydrated and I fill your glass with more"


That is my answer to any type of whining. Give them more of whatever they are complaining about. Rebelling at bedtime?...they must be overly tired and need to be sent to bed earlier so they can get more sleep. Complaining about an annoying sibling?....they must not appreciate one another and are made to spend more time together......Roll your eyes at your mother for hugging you goodbye at school?.....they must need more affection so I'll leave them with a hug AND a kiss next time. This system works surprisingly well!


Kaila dipped an eyebrow in concern but raised her glass to her lips again and took the smallest of sips. Just to demonstrate how ridiculous she was I grabbed my full glass and took a swig. It was cold....refreshing....and.....fishy?


I looked around the table at the others. Allana, my marathon milk drinker, had drained her glass before the prayer had time to leave our lips and she was was winding a large forkful of cheese with pure joy. Danny also had emptied his glass and was now savoring each cheesy mouthful in what only could be described as PG-13 rated expressions. Makenna was too busy talking to no one in particular about her day at school and she had yet to touch her plate, or glass.


Not wanting to cause concern I reasoned that milk has a tendency to take on the taste of whatever the cows had recently eaten. Munching on onions causes a slight onion flavored milk. Certain clovers can sweeten a gallon or two. Perhaps this cow had unknowingly wandered into....ummm...a stream? Snuck up on an unsuspecting fish, hoofed it to death, and then eaten it? Seemed unlikely.


I asked Allana to please go to the fridge and retrieve the milk carton. She was happy to oblige hoping to beg off another refill. I turned the carton and located the expiration date. To my horror it was over a week expired! How could this be? Did it get shoved to the back of the shelf when new gallons were bought and then resurfaced only after all the others had been drank? Whatever the reason, I knew what I must do.


PUT YOUR GLASSES DOWN! I announced. Conversations stopped and all eyes turned to me. "We have a situation" I went on, "the milk in your glasses have expired and is no longer good to drink, please make an orderly line to the sink and dispose of it immediately"


Have you ever seen a movie where an unknown epidemic spreads throughout a town or country and people go into a state of hysteria and panic? Insert my family and welcome to the show.


Makenna (saved by her gift of gab) had only taken a swallow. Wide eyed she slowly slide her glass into the center of the table as if it contained acid and even a drop of it would melt the skin off her hand clean to the bone.


Allana stood frozen in mid twirl carefully taking an inventory of how her inners were settling. "I drank a full glass" she said in a shocked state, her face frozen in a doom-like expression, as if I had just told her the doctor called and she had two days to live.


Danny smacked his lips together thoughtfully."I didn't even notice" he said in a surprised tone. "Oh well a little diarrhea never hurt anyone." I immediately wanted to point out that people who had died of Dysentery would probably disagree but changed my mind and kept quiet not wanting to add to the frenzy and glad for his optimistic attitude.


And Kaila.....my poor theatrical bundle of useless energy. Her eyes glazed over, her body went ridged, and within seconds she started making gagging noises, willing her body to rid itself of the poison within. "Am I going to die?" she asked weakly supporting herself on a nearby chair.


"No honey, a stomach ache maybe....death? Unlikely" I answered with rolled eyes.


This did little to appease her. Over the next two hours I had to witness episodes of stumbling and drunk like weaving, all due to the effects of the tainted milk. Arms too weak to pick up her backpack or hold a pencil to complete her homework. And several announcements that she was sure that the stomach ache she was experiencing meant that she was bleeding internally and because I refused to take her to the hospital, and I was the one who forced to to drink the poisoned milk, I would probably be charged with murder after they found her cold lifeless body In the morning......all in all she was handling it better then I thought.


I had just gotten all my sleeping beauties off to their assigned beds and had settled in with a good book when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement at my bedroom door.


Kaila staggered to my bedside. She stared into space as if looking for something far off into the distance. "Yesssss?" I inquired exasperatedly " Can I help you with something?"


"Mom?" she answered as if surprised "Mom is that you?" she turned her head towards my voice but continued to look straight head, her hand searched the top of my quilt until it rested upon mine.


"I was sleeping" she continued "and when I woke up everything was blurry......(insert a dramatic gulp)....Mom I think the poisoned milk.....(another dramatic gulp)..... has made me BLIND!"


Dun Dun Dun!!!


It took all my strength not to burst into hysterical laughter. Where does this kid get her imagination? Did I unknowingly eat some tainted mushrooms when I was pregnant? Maybe her nursery walls contained lead paint? Whatever the reason this was out there, even for her.


I prepared for my tactical maneuver "Sweetheart put yourself back to bed and if in the morning you are still blind I will look into getting you a seeing eye dog" I had tapped into her weakness. Dogs.


Satisfied with my proposition Kaila felt her way along my bedroom wall, expertly stepping over stray shoes and decorative pillows as she made her way back to her room.


In the morning, as usual, all was forgotten and back to normal. No one had died or been permanently maimed and surprisingly, a miracle had happened and Kaila's eye sight had returned....hallelujah!!!

Hip Chicks

Every year my in laws hold an EGG-travaganza at their house to celebrate Easter Sunday. My mother-in-law is a fantastic cook and cooks up a bunch of hams, potatoes and a variety of salads and side dishes. We married-inners fill in with appetizers and desserts. Of course I signed up for two desserts. I had a cute idea to tie both desserts into one theme and after seeing these adorable cupcakes online I knew I had to go with the "Hip Chicks" theme. Since I have a house full of girls I thought it was fitting.

 I had Makenna (my 10yr old) help with the decorating of these awe-too-cute chick cupcakes.

They were made with moist yellow cake and filled with buttery whipped cream filling (think Twinkies) then frosted with cream cheese frosting. The fun part was decorating them to look like chicks.

We colored some shredded coconut yellow to give them the appearance of feathers and pressed handfuls into the frosted tops. We then used a little icing to attach Reese's Pieces for eyes (we ran out and switch to upside down chocolate chips towards the end) and then cut sugared orange gummy slices into wedges to make cute little beaks! Could it be any easier? I think not!

I then made a crowd pleasing batch of Oreo Truffles coated in melted decadent chocolate- One of my absolute favorite desserts! How did I tie in the chick theme you ask? She is cleverly hidden under each delicious truffle- Surprise!!

My mother in law has the neatest tradition- she buys ALL (and I mean ALL) her grand kids matching Easter outfits to wear to church on Easter Sunday. We are up to 17 total Grand kids...17 matching Easter outfits. It is quite an undertaking and it makes the most fabulous pictures! Thanks Grammie Homer!

I hope everyone had a EGGxtra special Easter!

Hoppy Easter!

Every year my husband’s work holds an auction to help raise money for charity. As you all know I L-O-V-E to bake so I take this opportunity to bake my little heart out. Unfortunately this year my sweet procrastinator of a husband let me know on Wednesday that the auction was today....only leaving me one day to bake. Ugh. So instead of sending in a variety of delectable’s I only had time to do one.

Being close to Easter I saw these amazingly cute cupcakes online. I added a Marshmallow Cream center and a few unique flares of my own and Voila! Total cupcake cuteness!

The only thing I did not anticipate was how much time it would take to place all the embellishments on the bunny faces using a pair of kitchen tweezers. 24 cupcakes....all with faces...and pink pearl polka dots....that equals 144 whiskers, 48 eyes, 24 noses, 48 sprinkle dipped marshmallow ears and about 288 polka dots...all by hand. For those of you that have never worked with tweezers and sprinkles it can be really frustrating! If you squeeze too hard the sprinkle bursts into dust, squeeze too lightly and it pops right out of the tweezers and rolls across the counter and onto the floor where your pet wiener dogs awaits with gleeful anticipation. I lost half the bottle of pink pearls to that dog.

From start to finish these baking beauties took 6 hours, an afternoon well spent in my book! Of course I ate one just to make sure they were yummy and man were they ever! The marshmallow cream center is a total keeper!!

Coming soon- Coconut Chick Cupcakes with marshmallow cream centers! Stay tuned!!

IKEA

My best friend Jenni's birthday was this last Sunday and her wonderful husband made all of her friends jealous by buying her a beautiful light green VW beetle. In true Jenni fashion, she called her sidekick roady best friend (me) on Monday and announced a spontaneous whirlwind overnight road trip to Salt Lake to christen her new baby. Of course I was totally in!
 
In the last 8 years Jenni-Bean and I have been on several crazy mini vacations. We have dubbed them “Jenber” ( Jenni/Amber) adventures.
 
There was the time we traveled nonstop sleeping in our car, and freezing our tushes off so we could see our beloved Broncos play in the 2nd Fiesta Bowl. Or the time we locked ourselves out of our car in McCall and had to call Jenni's husband to come rescue us. Our super cool trip to Oregon with our daughters where we visited all the Twilight film sights like giddy teenage stalkers....and who could forget the time we frantically ran down a subway terminal in San Francisco trying to catch up with a train that Jenni accidentally left her purse on.
 
My craziest adventures have all had Jenni at the heart of them- and this trip to Utah did not disappoint.
 
We were packed and on the road by 10am, great timing for two wonder moms who are always running behind. One small overnight bag apiece took up a fraction of the roomy trunk/backseat of Jenni's new baby, so much potential for a promising spontaneous shopping spree and we were highly motivated.
 
After 5 hours of laughing, crying and getting out all of our "feminine" venting the floor of our car was covered with Kleenex and candy wrappers and we had reached our destination. The large Yellow and blue IKEA sign peeked over the freeway like a welcoming beacon. Smiles spread across our faces like warm butter in a hot pan. We exchanged a knowing look of excited anticipation. Kid free and without time restraints we were about to enter one of our favorite stores....this was EPIC!

 
IKEA (for those of you living in a bubble) is the utopia of home furnishing stores. I'm talking Disneyland for homemakers. It is ginormous! Take two Costcos and stack them on top of each other and you are getting close to understanding the bodacious size of this 8th wonder of the world. I'm not into idol worshiping but if I was...and you gold plate the outside...I would be among those lighting incense and leaving burnt offerings.

I think whoever named the store IKEA made a mistake on the spelling though. It should have been named “ISEEA”. This is because, from the moment you walk through the front doors, everything you see you will want to buy.  I-SEE-A bookshelf I have to have! I-SEE-A rug I can’t live without! I-SEE-A chandelier that is begging me to take it home! It is pure glorious torture.
 
We had shopped for 3 hours and had covered an impressive quarter of the store. This is mostly due to Jenni's ability to power shop. Jenni has any number of impressive lists stored in her head at all times. Today she had submerged herself neck deep in one labeled “Jazzy's bedroom makeover." Her daughter had just turned 17 and she was updating her room with modern furniture and bold colors.
 
She saw each isle as a challenge. She would scan the area quickly, take immediate inventory and with the skill of a professional shopping athlete, snatch items off shelves with lightening speed while checking them off her mental list. She was a buying tornado! Stackable boxes- check! Storage bench-check! Knickknacks and decorative pillows- check. Shelves, Desk, full length mirror, large black coffee table, padded chair, and a Four foot framed picture- Check, Check, Check! If shopping was an Olympic sport Jenni would be the US team captain!
 
I, on the other hand, am annoyingly  charmingly methodical. I engage in a mental war over each possible purchase. Will it fit? Is it the right shade? Will I like it when I get home as much as I do in the tricky store lighting?

 I held a $2 set of votive candles in front of me for 20 minutes talking myself in...and then out of them, until Jenni sent a search party. I added the candles to the 2 other items in my cart. Three items in 3 hours. I smugly patted myself on the back for my expedient decision making. Jenni nodded at my growth approvingly.
 
Four hours in we stopped at the full-sized cafeteria to power up on steamed veggies and French fries. We figured if we ate equal amounts they would cancel each other out. Fed and rehydrated we caught our second wind and headed for the second floor elevators.
 
We were up to our elbows in wicker baskets when the loud speaker announced 30 minutes until closing. Panic shot through us like turkeys on November 24th. Jenni left me desperately wading through a sea of baskets (trying to find 6 that perfectly matched) and made a mad dash for the "big" item pickup isles.
 
We agreed to meet by the registers and if one failed to show, the other promised to put up “lost friend" posters and offer a substantial reward.
 
With 15 minutes till close I tracked Jenni down in isle 211.  She had been crushed under a coffee table box and was pathetically trying to reach her Burts Bees chapstick that had rolled out of her purse in the fall.
 
We managed to muscle the last of our purchases into one overflowing shopping cart and a flatbed and headed to the registers. Needless to say we were the last ones in line to check out.
 
While Jenni helped the two IKEA employees ring up her treasures I began to notice for the first time how much stuff we were actually buying.....and then simultaneously.....what car we had arrived in. I have had similar thoughts of unrealistic expectations when I shop with Danny for bikinis - "you want all this (sweeping my arm down the length of my body), to fit in to that (imagine a string bikini that would cover a 6 month old)” Comical....sure, realistic...nada. 

 
Jenni- the forever the optimist- giggled when I expressed my doubts and assured me all would fit. I reminded her that since the store was now closed and we were from out of town if something didn't fit we would be forced to leave it in the parking lot or sleep in our car so we could watch it until the store opened in the morning. She quickly thought this over and then in a stroke of genius played the part of “Damsel in Distress” and asked two male store employees to help us load our car, this way insuring we had a way back into the store if necessary.
 
Walking outside we were greeted by a torrential downpour. The deserted parking lot looked like a wading pool. Jenni set out into the darkness in search of our car while I waited under an awning with our unsuspecting 'man'terauge. 
 
The men joked about the rain and how we women sure “stocked up" on our little shopping excursion, when out of the darkness appeared Jenni in her tiny lime green beetle. "Ummm....that's our ride," I said sheepishly trying not to make eye contact.
 
"You have got to be kidding me," I heard the older worker say in an awed hush, while our younger helper was more optimistic recalling similar challenges he had been involved in while pledging a fraternity in college. I was impressed with his ability to stuff 8 hot dogs in his mouth at one time and for the first time since we had checked out I was hopeful. 
Jenni jumped out of her car with inhuman energy and whipped open the back hatch revealing a trunk space that I was positive had shrunken to the size of a toddler bed in the time since we entered the store. I hid my concerned expression and turned to our helpers with an overly convincing smile and an encouraging thumbs up.
 
Who were we kidding....we all were standing on the deck of a sinking ship with the name “Titanic” plastered on its side and we knew it. All except Jenni - she was the one person still dancing in the ballroom refusing to get worked up over a little chunk of ice.
 
With the experience of a person who has pack a car beyond its limits before, Jenni started directing her helpers in “where and when” to hand her each object. She stacked and stuffed with extraordinary skill while I stood under the awning falling comfortably into my usual position of “Doubtful Observer”. No need for all of us to get wet I reasoned.

 
Remember the Disney movie “Mary Poppins?" There is a scene in it where Mary Poppins starts unpacking her carpet bag while she sings and by the end of the second verse she had managed to pull out a dresser, a mirror, a hat rack and a large 5 foot sofa lamp. I swear this is exactly what I was watching, but in reverse. 

 
Boxes after boxes, and Bags after Bags, entered the trunk and disappeared into the black hole of her beetle. One worker foolishly sacrificed his own wellbeing by climbing into the mobile vortex.....I was pretty sure he was a goner until we found him trapped under the desk box gnawing off his own arm in an attempt to escape.
 
What took us 6 hours to find took only 20 minutes to load. The entire car was packed tight like a fat man in a scuba suit. In the end we managed to fit everything we had purchased except a 4 foot framed picture that we couldn't jimmy through the trunk's opening. 

 
Low riding from the significant additional weight we set off rattling down the interstate with Jenni driving and happily singing show tunes. And me, sitting in a rain soaked seat 3 inches from the windshield (my seat had been pushed forward as far as it would go) with my knees firmly plastered to my chest (my foot room was taken by our luggage) and my neck at an unnatural angle, since my headrest had folded in on itself from the weight of our cargo. 

 
Yes, the 6 hour ride home was uncomfortable. Yes, I have had to see my chiropractor twice in the last 4 days, but baby, it was all worth it! Who needs a straight spine when you have an amazing best friend and 6 perfectly matching wicker baskets instead?
 
I can't wait for our next “Jenber” adventure!! Giddy-Up!

 

Oh what a tangled web we weave....

 There are many ways to pass the time when you are waiting somewhere with small children. Some parents pack activity books, some buy their kids electronic games or iPods and others, like Danny and I, find more creative ways.....like scaring them.

This last Saturday my oldest daughter was performing in an Opera at the Egyptian theater downtown. We had arrived an hour early to secure good seats. You might think this extra hour could be used for several relaxing activities. Such as - surfing Facebook on your phone, catch up on reading emails, or just enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet.
 
Parents of young children realize this is a delusional notion. We understand that it will be an hour filled with "I'm hungry-s" and” I'm bored-s “and “she’s touching me-s". I believe this is why some countries limit reproduction to one child per family. My theory is that they found it cuts down on suicidal tendencies in parents. In families with multiple children we are desperate and thus resort to lying.
 
Within 5 minutes of finding our seats my daughters began fighting with each other. Earlier in the car I won the coin toss, so Danny had to sit next to them, separating me from the climbing female hysteria. I foolishly thought I would be shielded from their whining, since I was not in their field of view. Cleverly their father was pretending to sleep so they bypassed him to get to me. I had underestimated his ability to play dead....it's a true gift.
 
Not wanting to be out strategized by "Partner in Parenting" I had to act fast. Thinking on my feet I grabbed a nearby program ripped off small pieces, wet them with my spit and stuck the wads into my ears. Turning to my girls I held up my hands in a gesture of helplessness and mouthed "I can't hear you". It was a stroke of sheer brilliance!

The fighting began to escalate and I noticed looks of annoyance from several patrons. I also realized Danny had opened one eye and was trying to motion for my attention by blinking rapidly.
 
I took the makeshift ear plugs out and leaned in to hear what he wanted. “You know what to do" he said in almost an inaudible whisper. I knew immediately what he was referring to... With almost an hour still left, it was time for the big guns......time to get down to business.
 
I cracked my knuckles, cleared my throat and channeled my inner storyteller.

Show time!
 
I waited for a break in their verbal warfare and then jumped in. “Hey girls" I began. “Do you want to hear the story about the ghosts that haunt this theater?" This piqued their interests and they quieted with anticipation. Danny faked a snore in approval.
 
"Almost a hundred years ago they built this theater. It was the most famous Opera house in Idaho. The owners wanted the first show to be memorable, so they held open auditions for the lead roles in "Pier-A-Chew" ( I made up a gibberish French name that ended in what sounded like a sneeze...it was very convincing) and hundreds of people auditioned, but  it came down to just two women.”
 
“One was a famous actress from Chicago. She had traveled all the way from the windy city  to be the first actress to headline in this theater. She was pompous, spoiled and a tyrant. The other finalist was a young girl who had been orphaned as a child when her parents were killed in a terrible fire.” (Kids love tragedy, both girl were sucked right in)
 
“It was obvious to everyone that the best person for the part was the young girl. But fearing the anger of the famous actress the director gave the lead role to the spoiled evil actress and made the poor girl her understudy. This would prove to be a grave mistake.”
 
“The wicked actress hated the young girl because she knew that she had a better voice and should have been given the part. This made her crazy with jealously, so much that she decided she would do whatever she could to drive the poor girl from the theater forever!! “(My words dripped with venom and my girls coward away from me in the aisle)
 
“For weeks she tortured the young girl. She embarrassed her in front of the rest of the cast and made her do humiliating things” ( This is where Kaila, my more dramatic of my two daughters, demanded to know WHAT kind of humiliating thing.....in detail)
 
“Ummmmm..... Like having her kneel on her hands and knees so she could use her back as a foot stool!”  (Looking shocked Kaila nodded, satisfied with this explanation) “The poor girl felt like her dreams of becoming an actress were over. Every day she would hide in the prop room and sob in despair.” (With furrowed brows my daughter's eyes brimmed with sympathy)
 
“After one particularly torturous day the young girl left the rehearsal in tears and when the rest of the crew filtered back stage an hour later, they found her dangling from the rafter.....dead!” (Dun Dun Dun!!! both girls gasped in unison)
 
“Shortly after her death eerie things started happening in this theater.”
 
“The cleaning man swore he could hear a young girl singing up and down the darkened corridors late at night. The wicked actress claimed that things were moved mysteriously in her dressing room and once the words “I’m still here" was written on her mirror in blood red lipstick.”

Kaila was now on her feet. She stood poised like a Labrador and scoured the room for signs of a ghostly presence. "Do you hear that?" She squeaked “I hear a girl singing!" Makenna pulled her coat over her head and slouched down in her seat. Danny muffled a snicker and covered it with a fake snore.
 
I didn't feel like braking the mood by telling them that the singing was the choir rehearsing for tonight’s show, so I paused for dramatic effect, pretended I couldn't hear anything, and then launched back into my story.
 
“Well as they say in the theater “the show must go on" and so it did. Before long, it was opening night. Everything was ready. The music played softly and the audience sat waiting. The wicked actress took center stage....the curtains began to rise” (this part was said with slow intensity....this was the climax....I made them beg for it)
 
“Just as the actress opened her mouth to sing, a great ripping sound exploded in the theater and ( I pointed to a huge Egyptian pillar that lined the sides of the stage) that pillar came loose and crashed down onto the stage! Frozen in fear the actress was crushed under the thousands of pounds of concrete!”

 
“It took them 2 days to dig out her mangled body. That is how she became the second ghost to haunt this theater.” (The girls look nauseated, I smile in satisfaction)
 
I would have stopped there but I still had 10 minutes before show time so I added a cherry to the top of my terrible tale sundae.
 
“Ever since that fateful night many people have seen and heard spooky things while watching shows and attending events here. See that balcony (I pointed to the fake balcony that held lighting and a false door covered by flowing curtains) that used to be the actresses dressing room. After her accident they boarded it up.”

 
“No one has ever been in there since the night she died, but some say they have seen lights flicker on and the curtains swaying back and forth...almost as if someone was watching....waiting.” (both girls stared at the curtains trying to see if they could detect the slightest of movements)

 “Others have insisted that they can smell the faint scent of roses in the air after performances....rose was the perfume that the famous actress was known to wear on her all of her opening nights. “ (The girls shift uneasily in their seats, both sniffing the air like bloodhounds)
 
“Some say if you are here late at night you can still hear the singing of a young girl as she forever haunts the dark corridors of this theater….listen…can you hear her too?” (ridged with fear both girls start eyeing the illuminated exit signs)
 
Now you may be thinking that this story was too much for young children and that it's wrong to prey on the fear of other's.....and perhaps you are right. All I know is that I had successfully quieted my two quarrelsome chicklets into silence for almost an hour and the once "mortal enemies" were now clinging to each other for dear life. In my book the night was a success!
 
Almost as if on cue the lights dim around us, signaling that the show is about to begin. I hit Danny to rouse him from his fake slumber. “Oh look" I said “it’s time for the Opera to start!" I settled back in my seat glad that we had but two short hours to go until I can change into my PJ’s and call it a night.
 
Unfortunately it turns out to be a long night after all. Six times during the Opera I have to calm the fears of both of my daughters.
 
Kaila never once looked at the stage but insisted on staring at the fake balcony/dressing room the entire show. She kept repeating in my ear “Look mom the curtains are moving! And “I think the light just flickered ON! It was fast but I know what I saw!!" 
 
Makenna had a death grip on Danny's arm and after asking him to walk with her to the bathroom, changed her mind and decided to hold it for the entire duration of the show. She frantically sat rotating in her seat and made circular motions that resembled the spin cycle on my washing machine
 
After the show was over flowers were put into the arms of the main characters.

Above the fan fare I could hear the panicked shrill of my 8 year old as she loudly informed the couple next to her “Can you smell it? It smells like ROSES!?"They glanced at the stage filled with blossoms and gave her a nervous smile, no doubt fearing for her mental state.
 
I started to rethink my story. Perhaps I may have over done it a bit...
 
That night the girls insisted on sleeping with both the bathroom and hall lights on. I made a mental note to ease up on future haunting stories-Lesson learned.
 
On Monday at crossing I found myself surrounded by a large group of second and fourth graders. They all were humming with intensity. Makenna and Kaila were apparently leading this mob. Makenna spoke first “Mom we told our friends about the ghosts that live at the Egyptian theater and they have all been to that theater too and have seen the ghosts!"
 
For the next five minutes kids yelled over each other, each telling me stories of rose smelling perfume, lights flickering, curtains that move in the balcony/dressing room and ghostly singing. Some were very dramatic in their recalling of these experiences and one girl was convinced that she saw a pillar swaying the last time she watched a movie there.
 
With guilt I realized that later that night the parents of these children would be listening to these wild stories and searching for night lights, all while silently cursing the innocent crossing guard at their childs school.
 
 
Oh what a tangled web we weave....

Show me those Baby Blues

A few weeks ago a lady that my husband works with, asked if she could hire me to make 48 Trojan cupcakes and 40 white/dark chocolate dipped strawberries for an upcoming baby shower she was hosting. I enthusiastically said "Yes!" delighted for the opportunity.
 
She requested that I coordinate the cupcake colors so that they would match the brown and dusky blue of the shower invitation, so I immediately went to work scouring the internet looking for the PERFECT cupcake liners. After 3 hours of scrutinizing hundreds of patterns and designs I was temporarily cross eyed and had ordered 6 different kinds of liners unsure of which would match EXACTLY. I needed 48 liners so of course I ordered 300 ......seemed reasonable at the time.
 
Along with finding the perfect liners, I also had to match the frosting color to the blue found on the invitation. I'm a little obsessive about getting colors right, so I added  5 different blue dyes to my shopping cart hoping the variety would  guarantee an exact match.
 
For days I dreamed about finding precise color combinations. Every morning I woke irritated and unfortunately my family took the brunt of my color combination frustrations. " Kaila honey, I know you want to color that pumpkin purple but please use orange....just for this week ok?", "Makenna, please don't wear brown shoes with black pants....it just isn't right", "Danny white socks with dress pants....really? REALLY!?" Their creative color choices were maddening!!
 
The day before the baby shower I woke early and organized all my supplies. I hurried my loin nuggets off to be educated, did some light stretching (baking is a total body workout) and called my mom for moral support.
 
Focused and determined I grabbed my spatula and attacked the cupcakes with great fervor! 4 hours in, my mixer began to smoke and I noticed a tender spot on my right hand. A blister was inevitable. But still I persevered.
 
48 cupcakes down, 45 strawberries to go. I worked like a well oiled dipping machine! Pounds of white and dark chocolate melted with precise expertise, Strawberries swirled in lakes of chocolate goodness then adorned with coordinating drizzle. It was an unusually messy process and when all 45 strawberries were finished and sitting in an orderly line, I noticed my kitchen looked like a crime scene. My walls and table covered in chocolate blood splatter. I licked a clump off my counter like Hannibal Lecter.....it was delicious.
 
I tucked my little culinary masterpieces into their perspective cookie sheets with wax paper and prepared myself for the most difficult mission I had yet to face....transporting. With 15 minutes till departure I briefed Danny on the difficulty of our mission. We must get all goodies to the designated drop off zone without disturbing their sensitive frosting tops. After all presentation is everything!
 
I assigned Danny to be the driver with STRICT instructions- NO pot holes, NO going over 30 miles an hour (even when people honk), NO braking fast, and finally- NO rap music (nothing to do with the goodies ....I just don't like it)
 
I excepted the task of cupcake quality control manager....the Navy Seals of the pastry world. The entire trip I would be dangling over the back seats of our minivan upside down; each hand securely fastened between two cookie sheets making sure that each had their own "personal space".
 
While we drove I yelled warnings in Danny's direction. "TOO FAST! The cupcakes are sliding against each other, FOCUS MAN, FOCUS!" During one crazed corner two cupcakes smashed against each other like two horny teenagers in a mosh pit. "Hey Maniac!” I hollered "We are not racing in the Indy 500! That turn just broke off one of the chocolate hearts!!"  It was a good thing I had packed extra chocolate hearts. Boy scouts and bakers should always prepared.
 
Once he had stopped at a light, I contorted my body so that I could see what was causing him to drive so insanely. There he sat with the cell phone in his hand taking pictures of my gluteus maximus which hovered over the rear passenger seat. "ERASE those immediately!" I shrieked, helplessly frozen in my current position.
 
Danny apparently couldn't hear me over the radio. It seemed he had turned it up and directed it so that the speakers blasted the rear of the van. "Is that RAP music?" I said with as much loathing as I could muster with all the blood rushing to my head in my inverted position "If I had an extra cupcake I would throw it at your head!!" I threatened. The music was loud but I swear I heard chuckling from the front seat.
 
We arrived with only one casualty. I preformed last rights....for both Danny and the fallen chocolate heart garnish, then triumphantly carried in the survivors. We were greeted by a dozen sugar deprived women. They all swarmed around with "oohs and awes" hungrily eyeing the delicacies.
 
On my way out I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder one last time at my unsuspecting cupcake babies....I gave birth only yesterday and we were already saying goodbye.
 
"You are fired as my driver" I said glaring at Danny as we headed to the van.
 
"That's ok" he grinned looking at the booty pics he had taken of me with the phone "I'm thinking of becoming a photographer and selling my art at the farmers market"
 
I punched him hard on the shoulder....which I am happy to say left a little blue bruise the EXACT shade of the cupcake frosting.....
 
I told you I'm good with colors.

St. Patty's Day Mint Oreo Truffles

Mint Oreo Truffles

You will find yourself very "LUCKY" if you have ever eaten one of these Amazing Truffles! They are decadent, melt in your mouth, deliciousness! Mint Oreo Cookies and cream cheese coated in 3 different kids of chocolate....who needs a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow? I would rather find THESE!

I dipped them in 3 different kinds of chocolate

 My favorites are the Dark Chocolate ones...what can I say, I guess I'm the type of girl that likes a LOT of Chocolate!

Here is a link with step by step instructions. http://www.bakerella.com/its-no-sham%e2%80%a6these-rock/

Only I didn't use melting bark because I like the taste of Chocolate chips better. Just remember to add 2 TBS Crisco when melting a full bag of chips so that the consistency is perfect for dipping. Also After I freeze the balls for an hour I stick them with a toothpick to help with nonmessy dipping. When Chocolate has set, pull out the toothpick and cover the hole with a little extra piped melted chocolate. Otherwise it is exactly the same as the link.

 ENJOY!

Leprechaun trap

Last night my daughter Kaila worked diligently on her “special” project for St. Patty’s day.

While I dipped mint Oreo truffles for Danny’s work she would periodically interrupt me asking for scraps of string, permission to have some toilet paper and if she could use an old pizza box she found in the garbage. I absentmindedly agreed to all her requests glad that she was distracted.

This morning after shooing all my green clad offspring off to their designated schools I returned home and came across this beauty on the kitchen counter.

It was a Leprechaun trap. Complete with a handmade bed, a nightstand, money and welcome sign.

Kaila had left it in hopes that sometime today an unsuspecting little green man would stumble upon, smell the scent of recently eaten pizza and feel the need to take a nap. It was so clever and cute I decided that I had to take a picture of it for her scrapbook.

As I took a few shots I started to notice parts of this leprechaun trap that concerned me….concerned me GREATLY…..let me explain

This was the first picture I took- notice that she wrote something on the lid next to the large grease stain? On closer investigation this is what she had written-

LUCKY LEPRECHAUNS DREAM HOUSE

Nothing to be concerned about right?

On my next angled shot I paused reading the words “HOT-N-READY” printed along the side of the box.

Wait a second….what kind of Leprechauns are we trying to attract here? Lucky Leprechaun....Hot N Ready.....Has my daughter in her Innocence accidently created a Frat House? A bachelor pad for little hairy men with who crave stale pizza and have commitment issues? This would take further investigation!

I then looked that the furnishings of this so called “dream house”.

This included a broken down single bed (notice no accent pillows and I bet it is only single ply!)

And what is this?!(gasp!)

 Money left on the nightstand!!! And LOOK there are strings attached to this relationship (I bet it would include clipping his troll like toenails and waxing his hairy back!)  

So let's review-

Living out of a pizza box….grease stains on the walls….calls his home “lucky dream house”….single bed….money on the nightstand with strings attached….

Oh yes I have seen his kind before in bowling alleys and gun shows!

The only kind of leprechaun that would make his home in this trap would be the one doing the TRAPPING and my daughter would have NOTHING to do with that kind of degenerate!

He is the A typical “love em” and “leave em” type of Mythical Creature!

The only pot at the end of his rainbow would be the kind you grow illegally!

Don’t believe me? Just look at the picture kaila drew of him and his last girlfriend

Yes that's him all dressed up in his pimp attire doing NOTHING while SHE is left doing all the heavy work. And just look at his pompous grin and fancy hat! Disgusting!

I decided to take immediate action! I needed to protect my naive delicate daughters!

So I grabbed a nearby pen and paper and added my own note to her trap this one says-

Sorry Danny…it is for the greater good.