Cake Boss. Or not.

I think I'm a pretty decent mom.

My kids don't want for much.  I'm around all the time.  They get awesome birthday parties and they have a pretty fair amount of freedom for their ages and they have nice clothes and lots of toys and they're involved in lots of activities and our house is always clean and welcoming to their friends at any time.

Also, I bake.  Because moms are supposed to bake.

And I will tell you, I am a damn good baker.

My friend C loves my banana bread.  One time we were at their house and she was in their baby's room feeding him and I was digging through their freezer looking for something (probably ice or maybe a frozen snack, I don't really know, I make myself at home at my friends' houses) and I noticed some frozen bananas and I said to her husband S, "hey, want me to take these and make some banana bread for you?"  And he's like, no, that's OK.  And then C yelled from the baby's room down the hall, "WHEN JAMIE OFFERS TO MAKE US BANANA BREAD, YOU SAY YES!!!!!!!!!!!"

I make these white chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that are so good they would make you cry.

I bake muffins, scones, brownies (not those kind, don't be weird), all kinds of cookies, tarts, pies...

But I cannot, to save my life, bake a decent cake.

Most of the "good mom" boxes are ticked.  But my kids totally lost the mom lottery when it comes to cake.

This one time, I decided to try to bake a red velvet cake from scratch, complete with cream cheese frosting.  It took me forEVER.  And it was the single most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth.  I tried to pawn it off on my parents because my dad will eat anything, but his exact words were, "This must be what evil tastes like."  I have no idea what the hell happened, but that cake was absolutely awful.  And the frosting (sugar and cream cheese, not sure how you screw that up, but I sure did a good job of it) left an aftertaste that I swear I still taste every time I see a red velvet cake.

On AJ's second birthday, the cake I made (from a box) refused to come out of the pan in one piece.  It kind of fell out in chunks and I scraped the rest out with a spatula.  So, I put it all on a plate and covered the whole entire mess in (canned pre-made Betty Crocker) frosting and dumped a box of Smarties on it.  He was only 2, but I swear to God he looked at that cake and then at me and thought, "you crazy woman, I might only be 2 and you might think you've pulled a fast one on me by distracting me with all of those Smarties, but if you think I'm actually going to eat that shit you are out of your ever lovin' mind."

Even the cake mixes from the store hate me.  They fall flat in the oven and then they laugh in my face.

It's very sad.

Anyway, Mackenzie has been dying to try to make cake pops.  She knows I suck at cakes, so really it was kind of insensitive of her to even make such a request, but I found a kit at Costco and it was like $3.97 (in retrospect, I should've known from the price alone that this was a terrible idea) so I bought it and after school today, we attempted to make cake pops.

And guess what?

They didn't work.

I have no idea what I did wrong.  I followed the directions.  But the stupid balls of cake were just sliding down the stupid sticks and they wouldn't stay and my hands were disgusting and sticky and covered in this slimy sticky cake/frosting concoction as I tried to roll them into balls and then the sticks would get all dirty because HOW are you supposed to use BOTH hands to roll the stupid cake balls AND use the same hands to put the cake balls on the stick WITHOUT getting the stick all gross and dirty?!?  HOW, I ASK YOU?!?

And the kids were watching me in amazement, and Mackenzie's like this is SO not what they look like in the commercial, you know, Mom, this is not going well...

And I'm like SHUT UP, I CAN DO THIS!!

And AJ's like, Mom, it kind of looks like poop on a stick...

And I'm like YOU ARE GOING TO EAT THESE DAMN CAKE POPS!!!

Then they're like, well Mom, the cake balls are sliding down the stick...and when we try to pick them up and dip them in the melted chocolate, it gets too heavy and the cake falls off the sticks completely...

And I'm like OH MY GOD, I NEED A GLASS OF WINE!!!

And then we rolled the whole thing into a giant pile of sticky cake pop mess and picked off pieces of it and dipped it in chocolate and sprinkles and ate it with our hands.

It was disgusting.

And the worst part?

I BOUGHT TWO OF THOSE DAMN KITS!!!!

It gets better. I promise.

OK, so maybe I can't "promise", turns out I'm not actually that powerful (wait, WHAT!??!)

But I can say with a fair amount of certainty that no matter what kids might be thinking right now, high school is not the be-all, end-all of your life.  In fact, it actually has no bearing whatsoever on what your life can, and likely will, become.

I just finished watching a special on bullying on CNN (I know, right.  Look at me, watching the news!)  It was done in conjunction with the new movie Bully, which is a documentary put together by Lee Hirsch that follows five different families for one school year, documenting their problems with bullying in different U.S. schools.  I haven't watched the movie yet, and frankly I'm not sure I'd be able to - just this CNN show had me in tears - and it made me worry for my kids and their generation.

Bullying is an epidemic.  Does that sound dramatic to you?  Because I really don't think that it does.  And it frustrates me to absolutely no end that it is allowed to continue.  So why is that?  WHY is it allowed to continue?  Who do we blame for this?  Who is allowing this to happen?

Well, let's start at home.

How many parents have talked to their kids about respect?

Hopefully all of us.

How many parents have talked to their kids about including others?  Or speaking nicely to, and about, people?

I'd say, again, hopefully all of us.

Now, how many parents are guilty of pointing out someone in a store - maybe someone largely overweight, or with some crazy outfit on, and perhaps making fun of or rolling their eyes at that person?  How many parents have talked about a friend of theirs, a coach of their kids', a teacher, an in-law, etc etc etc, either to their faces or behind their backs, in some mean or inappropriate way?

Don't lie to me.  We've all done that.

And here's the thing:

Kids understand a hell of a lot more than we give them credit for.

They see you roll your eyes at someone who looks different than you.  They hear you making comments about that family that has less than you do.  They heard you call their sports coach an asshole, or make a derogatory statement about someone who's lifestyle choice is one you don't agree with, or have a name-calling argument with your spouse.  So no matter how much you try to teach them respect and to treat others fairly, until you can do it yourself and actually model the behavior, you're totally wasting your time, because learning appropriate behavior and the value of respect all begins at home...and it starts a hell of a lot earlier than the beginning of the school-age years.

How many parents have told their kids that some people are gay?  Or that some people hold different religious or political beliefs than your family does?  And furthermore, that it is all absolutely OK, and that people are individuals who are allowed to think whatever thoughts they want, and make whatever choices they wish, so long as they aren't hurting someone or infringing upon the rights of others?

How many parents have told their kids that if someone chooses to wear an outfit that you think is weird, or be friends with someone you don't like, or spend all their time doing an activity that you think is stupid, then that's their choice and...news flash, kids!!...you actually don't get to have any say in it?

Tell your kids that it's OK to be different.  That's it's OK to love whoever you love, and believe whatever you believe.  That other people have the same rights you do - which means THEY are allowed to wear what they want, and THEY are allowed to love who they want, and THEY are allowed to believe what they wish and do what they like.  Remind them how much words and actions can hurt.

Tell your kids that it's OK to be brave, and to stand up to people who are bullies, and remind them that the bullies are the ones with the real problem - and use the opportunity to teach them a little empathy.  Maybe the bully needs a voice. Maybe he (or she) isn't being heard at home.  Maybe he's the one who's really afraid.  Maybe he needs a friend.  Maybe you could be that for him.

The show on CNN made a great statement.  It said that this is not an anti-bullying campaign; it's a movement.  So as fearful as I am for my kids and their generation, I am also a tiny bit hopeful that as they grow, the problem of bullying will get less and less, as kids learn to stand up for themselves and for each other.  Hopefully, parents, teachers, coaches, extended families, big kids, little kids, everyone, will understand and teach that bullying in any form is wrong and unacceptable.  It is NOT "kids being kids".  Anything that is done to another human being that violates their basic rights is not OK, ever, EVER, and our kids need to start being taught that, as early as possible, by us - their parents - at home.

My quirky kids.

You already know that my kids are awesome.

I mean, really.  They are.  OK, yes, sometimes they're a pain in the ass.  No doubt about it.  But they are both just hilarious, smart, spirited (which, really, is a code word for kinda bratty sometimes), and just generally pretty cool little humans; and I totally love that each kid has a mind of their own.

Take my 6-year-old son, for example.  After school today, what do you think he wanted to do?

No, he didn't want to play with his friends.

He didn't want to play video games.

He didn't want to play Lego, or have a snack, or watch TV, or play outside.

No, my boy was absolutely gagging to get to his MATH HOMEWORK.  (Right.  Math.  Sometimes I do wonder if he's actually mine).  And not only did he rip it all out of his backpack the minute he walked in the front door and then hightail it over to his workstation in the kitchen, but he called out every question and answer with such excitement in his voice that you'd think I told him he'd never have to eat vegetables or get a haircut or clean up his room ever again.  All the while, he was singing at the top of his lungs, his very own acoustic version of "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers.  So it sounded like "...I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetHEEEEEARRRRRRRTTTTTT..."  mixed with "and 8 plus 9 is 17!  And 6 plus 5 is 11!"

I think it's the "Ho Hey" remix.  Watch for it on iTunes.

Then, there's my girl.

She wanted to watch TV after school.  I said sure, and we flipped through the guide to see what was on.

She didn't choose Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

She didn't choose Shake It Up, or ANT Farm.

She didn't even want to watch Wizards of Waverly Place - and she idolizes Selena Gomez.

No, my 8 1/2-year-old daughter nearly peed her pants with excitement when she saw that a STORAGE WARS marathon was on.

She knows everyone on the show by name, she knows exactly what they do, and she'd even seen this particular episode before, so she was super excited to tell me exactly how much money they made, and how much cash was stuffed behind some ugly oil painting, and then she explained to me what a "spitoon" is because one of the guys finds one in this episode.

Then she asked if House Hunters was on.

God, I love my kids.

Private parts.

AJ: "Mom, will you lay with me before I go to sleep?"

Me: "Of course, buddy."

We climb in to his bed.  Normally, we use this time to talk about our day, hockey, school, Pokemon, video games, cool new apps...if I only I knew the turn our conversation would take tonight.

AJ: "You know, it's always the Daddy who makes the baby."

Me: "Um.  Really?"

AJ: "Yep.  But how does he do it?  How does a daddy make a baby so it gets to the mom's tummy?"

At this point, I'm thinking it's best that I pretend I'm asleep.  So I start to fake-snore.

AJ: "MOM!  YOU ARE NOT SLEEPING!  I want to know how the daddy makes the baby!"

Sigh.

Me: "AJ, it takes a daddy AND a mommy to make a baby.  The daddy doesn't do it by himself."

AJ: "Oh, he does."

Me: "Trust me, dude.  He doesn't."

AJ: "Well, then, how?"

Jesus Murphy, where the hell is Shawn when I need him!?!  Why is he NEVER around when these questions are randomly tossed out???

Me: "Um.  Well, there's a special kind of loving that mommies and daddies do together, that make a baby.  It starts out a teeny tiny little dot and grows into a baby in the mom's tummy.  That's why her belly always gets so fat."

AJ: "And I know the babies look weird when they're in there."  Touche, kid.  They totally do.  He continues: "Animals give birth, you know."

Not sure where he learned the term "give birth".  But whatever.

Me: "People do too, buddy, that's how the baby gets out."

AJ: "But when animals give birth, the baby comes out of the mom's butt."

Oh for God's sake.  I better clarify this before he scares his sister into severe constipation by telling her she might poop out a baby one day.

Me: "NO, IT DOES NOT."

AJ: "Well, not exactly her butt.  It comes out of her private parts, and there is A LOT of blood!"

OK, never mind, clarification not needed, he's clearly schooled in the subject.  And he's not finished yet:  "It's a good thing people babies don't come out of private parts.  They come out of tummies, and that is NOT a private part."

Then, as quick as it all started and before I could think of what to say, the conversation was over.  He said he was tired of talking and fell asleep in about two seconds.

And I quietly left his bed, thankful that I had c-sections and have never had the need to explain that babies sometimes come out of va-jay-jays.

Whew.

Hopefully it's another 5 years before this topic comes up again.

I need a glass of wine.

Wah, wah, wah.

You ever have those times when you're like, ugh, oh my God, my life sucks, I'm so busy, there's not enough time in the day, my kids are being jerks, this house is a mess, my husband doesn't help me, I'm so fat, blah blah blah...

I am SO in the midst of one of those right now.

I've mentioned my lack of the sympathy gene before, and the truth is, that extends to myself too.  I'm not one to sit around and feel sorry for myself for long.  So, I know that I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and get the F over it.

But before I do that, I am going to bitch about it to you for awhile.  You're welcome.

School is BANANAS right now.  Absolutely mother effing bananas.  Classes three days a week, then two full days of practicum.  Classes are busy and only going to get busier with projects and exams on the horizon.  My two days of practicum have been a hugely eye opening experience - it's been a huge learning curve for me.  It's work.  And my school schedule does not allow me to be at my kids' school nearly as much as I'd like, and I have to miss one of  my son's twice-weekly hockey practices because of class, and I don't have as much of my own social time as I would normally like, and I do feel like I'm missing out.

I am SUCH a fat mess right now that I want to take my fancy little bathroom scale and throw it through a window.  I am so pissed off at that thing.  THE NUMBER NEVER CHANGES.  What the hell, scale??   Remember that time we used to be friends?  And I could take a couple detox days where all I consumed was fruit, water and Hydroxycut and you would drop by like, 5 pounds just like that?  WHAT HAPPENED TO THOSE DAYS!?  Is it because I'm getting old?  Is it because sometimes I sneak into McDonalds, or eat the leftovers out of my kids lunches?  Is it because I started eating vegetables too late in life so you are punishing me?  Or are you just broken?  Need new batteries?  Come on, scale.  Tell me what's wrong.  Let's be friends again!

Home life is crazy town.  I am so busy with school, and so damn tired by the end of the week, that keeping up with laundry and housework is becoming a bit of a struggle.  I have found the good sense to at least start meal planning, so we're not having cereal three nights a week like we did last semester, but this weekend I'll be lucky to get away with *only* six loads of laundry.  Sigh.

And now, for the "getting the F over it" part...a little perspective:

There are only 85 days left in my semester, and that's it - then I will be finished school.

The things I am learning in my practicum will be priceless when it comes to getting a job.

When the semester finishes, I will still have two and a half months to be at my kids school as much as I want.  And you know what?  I'm actually OK with having to sit in a freezing cold hockey arena to watch a bunch of 6-year-olds "play hockey" only once a week instead of twice.

I might not have a lot of social time right now, but my friends are amazing.  They have been so supportive and so helpful with everything, whether it's looking after my kids when I'm at school, or taking them off my hands for a few hours so I can study, or even mixing me a couple vodka sodas when I show up at their houses on a Friday afternoon after a totally insane week.

I am a size 8.  Last I checked, that hardly qualifies as a "fat mess."  And guess what: I'll never stop eating at McDonalds.  Never.  So suck it, scale.

I have time to sit and update this blog - so obviously the laundry mountain isn't worrying me THAT much.

My husband is a pretty good dude.  He picks up the slack when I need him to (even if he has no concept of "sticking to the list" when I send him to the grocery store).

My kids are bright, healthy, happy, well-adjusted little beings.

I am very, very lucky.

Sometimes, I just need to remind myself of that.

Veggie Tales.

It's a new year, it's resolution time, and dammit, I'm going to make my family (and myself) eat some vegetables if it kills me.

This is hard.  Like REALLY hard.  You have no idea.  I hate vegetables.  I'm not sure why they exist.  Yuck, yuck, yuck.  Unless is something steamed that I can then use as a vessel for as much melted Velveeta as I can fit on my plate, I ain't interested.  Raw veggies - no.  Cooked veggies - HELL no.  Salad - well, OK, maybe, but it has to have a LOT of Ranch dressing on it, or be one of those super fattening awesome salads that have like candied nuts and cranberries and avocado and a ton of feta cheese in them.

Now, my husband is a tiny bit better than me when it comes to veggies, but since the kids and I hate them, I rarely make them with our dinner, and he does not complain about it - so it's safe to say, our vegetable consumption has declined considerably in the last year.  So, during the last week of December, I told my family that every night starting January 1, we would be eating at least one vegetable with our supper.

Mackenzie cried.  Like actually CRIED.  Then she refused to speak of it in any way.  Whenever I would say something like, "OK, I'm off to the grocery store, what kind of veggie do you want to try?" she would stare at me blankly, close her mouth, make a zipping motion over it, and cover her ears.

Dramatic?

Well, yes.  She IS mine, after all.

Here's how it's gone so far:

January 1, we went to my parents house for dinner.  The kids declared that whenever we have dinner at Grandma's, the veggie rule does not apply.  Grandma agreed fully while on her way to get AJ his second bowl of Froot Loops.  Shawn and I decided, well if THEY don't have to eat them, then neither do we!  So, thanks, Mom.  That was super helpful.  Day 1: FAIL.

January 2, we had a little something I like to call "Crap From The Fridge" for dinner.  I love having Crap From The Fridge (sometimes also called Crap From The Freezer).  We had had a New Years Eve party, so there were a lot of leftovers, and the mission that night was to get rid of it all.  Crap From The Fridge is a mission to kind of clean out the fridge, so it means I take everything out, heat it up as necessary, and put it all out like a smorgasbord on the dining room table, and we pick and choose what we want.  New Years leftovers included a lot of raw veggies, so everyone had quite a big selection of what they could try.  AJ did well - he had some orange pepper, and like 9 baby carrots.  Mackenzie, on the other hand, managed to choke down one baby carrot (the tiniest one she could fish out of the bag), which she covered in Ranch and gagged her way through with tears in her eyes.  Honestly, you'd have thought it was a baby carrot covered in baby poop by the way she was gagging and choking and carrying on.  Day 2: Meh.  Good for AJ.  Not good for Kenz.

January 3, they got yet another reprieve, as we had the much loved Breakfast For Supper.  Veggies don't really go with breakfast, so I let them each have a banana instead.  Day 3: FAIL (but that was my fault.)

I'm only 1 for 3.  Gotta balance that out tonight.  This resolution is not going well, and it's only Day 4!

Happy.

With the holiday season now in full swing, I have to say that I am feeling especially mushy this year.

Which is weird - me and mushiness don't exactly go together.

I have always loved the Christmas season, for as long as I can remember.  I've always seen it as a magical time of year, and even as I get older and have my own family now and it's significantly more stressful than it ever used to be, it is still, if you will, "the most wonderful time of the year".

The beginning of the holiday season, I will admit, was a little touch-and-go.  I was kind of stressed about the end of my semester at school, and the dreaded Psychology final was looming.  Then there was my work Christmas party, which was a super fun time, but let's just say that this momma walked (uh, stumbled) away with a horrible two-day-long martini flu that left me bedridden and wishing I could just take my bucket and crawl into a dark hole somewhere and stay there for a few days with a blanket over my head and an endless supply of McDonalds french fries with extra salt.  It was awful, but thankfully, the hangover from hell was not a prediction of things to come!

I'm just going to go ahead and say that I ROCKED my first semester.  3 A+'s, and 1 A- (OK, if I'm being totally honest I have to say that A- pissed me off a little, but it was for my health care/nursing class, and it was only a couple of years ago that I learned that pee and babies come out of different places, so really, I suppose I should be celebrating that A- with vigor.)  Anyway, it would be a huge understatement to say that I am proud of these results.  I pulled pretty incredible marks, at my rusty old age, with a family at home that I still needed to keep fed and clean, while shuttling them around town and volunteering time at the kids' school and working a few hours at the radio station and keeping this house in one piece...all on top of my studies.  My husband is amazing, he was incredibly understanding through all of it (we did have cereal for supper more times than I'd like to admit), and I couldn't have done it without the encouragement and endless support from him, my parents, and my friends.  Going in to my next semester with grades like this feels pretty bloody good.

Next - I've been lucky to be able to spend a lot of time lately with my cousin's baby, E.  She is the cutest damn thing in the whole entire world.  She's about 18 months now, and she is so much fun.  A couple of weeks ago, she and I were playing with my iPhone, and I headed over to Youtube to play her some videos.  For some crazy reason, and I have no idea why I even did this, I opened up Gangnam Style by Psy - which is, hands down, the weirdest music video I have ever seen.  Well, she LOVED it - and when I say love, I mean the kind of love that only an 18-month-old can show.  She will sit in my lap and watch it over and over and OVER again (she knows exactly when it's going to end, and how to re-start it), and when I try to play any other video, she kiboshes it by reaching out her tiny little finger and shutting the phone off.  When I shut the phone down after watching Gangnam Style 3 or more times in a row, she will kick and scream and cry and try to grab for the phone until I hide it somewhere so she can't see it.  All she wants to watch is that silly video.  Whenever she sees that I have my phone in my hand, she will drop what she's doing, run over and frantically say "STY! STY!  STY!  STY!" until I put it on for her.  It is CUTE.  That video has something like 950 million views on Youtube, and I'm pretty sure E and I are responsible for that last 50 mil.

Keeping in the theme of E, and kids, I love how much my kids and her love each other.  Watching them interact, especially AJ, makes me smile.  E adores him, she loves to copy him and chase him around, and he will do absolutely anything to make her laugh.  Mackenzie loves to play momma, and hold her hand, and teach and show her things.  I love that they have a little person like her in their lives!

On a sad note, a tragic story came early this week with the accidental death of two teachers from a community close to ours.  I do not know this couple, nor do I know anybody who knew them, but when I read the story I cried and cried.  She was 7 months pregnant.  They were killed in a car accident when their vehicle went off the road and ended up in the river.  It was absolutely heartbreaking.  Stories like this one can shake you to your core, and force you to remember the things - the PEOPLE - that are most important in your life; and to make sure you remember to tell them that, with words as well as actions, every chance you get.

With that, I wish you and yours the happiest of the holiday season.  Remember the important things.  Don't stress.  Remember how lucky you are in so many ways.  Give where you can - time, money, whatever you have to offer.  Pay it forward.  Hold your family close and tell them how much you love them.  Watch the holidays unfold through the eyes of your children, or any child, and try to remember the magic that you felt at that age at this time of year.  Pile your whole family into mom and dad's bed and read stories and sing Christmas songs as loud as you can.  Be calm.  Be grateful.  Eat, drink and be merry.

Just stay away from the martini bar.