Just successfully piped icing onto cupcakes for the very first time, 45 minutes before the party starts.
Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Saturday night fever ...
Busy prepping to have 7 little girls sleep over.
And, by "prepping", I mean main-lining ibuprofen.
Friday, October 22, 2010
"Flock of Love", with MeMe
Over the years, I have written down many many conversations I've had with MeMe. This was one of them, from two years ago.
~~~
October 8, 2008
Yesterday, MeMe and I were sitting at a bus shelter that was covered with graffiti and she remarked on one part, where someone had markered “Folklove”…
MeMe: “Some bad people wrote all over that, mama.”
Mommy: “I know, honey. Some people do silly things to make themselves feel important.”
MeMe [trying to read the scribbles]: “Fokka … Flokka … Fokla … Flockalove … You know, mama, I have a Flock of Love.”
Mommy: “You do? What’s a flock of love?”
MeMe: “That’s when you’ve got lots of people that you love and they are together...”
Mommy: “Together?”
MeMe: “Yeah. A FLOCK of love. I have one.”
Mommy: “Like who? Where is it?”
MeMe [bangs her chest]: “Here. I have a flock of love in here. And there are lots of people in it.”
Mommy: “Well, what the heck does that feel like?”
MeMe: “Like fluttering.”
Mommy: “Who’s in your flock?”
MeMe: “You. Daddy. Grandma. Maybe my cousins, if they don’t fight with me.”
Mommy: “Don’t forget to be in your own flock, Meems. You should always be #1 in your own flock.”
MeMe: “Are you #1 in YOUR flock?”
Mommy: “Nope. When you have babies, then the babies are #1.”
MeMe: “Huh. Well, you can be #2 in my flock of love.”
Mommy: “I dunno how you keep track of all those flockers. You must have a big heart.”
MeMe: “Yuh huh.”
Mommy: “Do people get to stay forever in your flock of love?”
MeMe: “Sometimes. Most of the time. Unless I just stop thinking about them … or they’re mean to me.”
Mommy: “Then what do you do?”
MeMe [heaving her sneakered foot from back to front]:
"I … KICK. THEM. OUT.”
~~~
October 8, 2008
Yesterday, MeMe and I were sitting at a bus shelter that was covered with graffiti and she remarked on one part, where someone had markered “Folklove”…
MeMe: “Some bad people wrote all over that, mama.”
Mommy: “I know, honey. Some people do silly things to make themselves feel important.”
MeMe [trying to read the scribbles]: “Fokka … Flokka … Fokla … Flockalove … You know, mama, I have a Flock of Love.”
Mommy: “You do? What’s a flock of love?”
MeMe: “That’s when you’ve got lots of people that you love and they are together...”
Mommy: “Together?”
MeMe: “Yeah. A FLOCK of love. I have one.”
Mommy: “Like who? Where is it?”
MeMe [bangs her chest]: “Here. I have a flock of love in here. And there are lots of people in it.”
Mommy: “Well, what the heck does that feel like?”
MeMe: “Like fluttering.”
Mommy: “Who’s in your flock?”
MeMe: “You. Daddy. Grandma. Maybe my cousins, if they don’t fight with me.”
Mommy: “Don’t forget to be in your own flock, Meems. You should always be #1 in your own flock.”
MeMe: “Are you #1 in YOUR flock?”
Mommy: “Nope. When you have babies, then the babies are #1.”
MeMe: “Huh. Well, you can be #2 in my flock of love.”
Mommy: “I dunno how you keep track of all those flockers. You must have a big heart.”
MeMe: “Yuh huh.”
Mommy: “Do people get to stay forever in your flock of love?”
MeMe: “Sometimes. Most of the time. Unless I just stop thinking about them … or they’re mean to me.”
Mommy: “Then what do you do?”
MeMe [heaving her sneakered foot from back to front]:
"I … KICK. THEM. OUT.”
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Thanks again, Disney
Just gave the dog a huge plate of spaghetti.
Apparently, everything I know about owning a dog, I learned from "Lady & the Tramp".
I feel so mean ...
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been a parent;
throwing 17 teddy bears in a washing machine always feels like animal abuse.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Found this on my fridge ...
I'm fairly certain it's meant to discourage me from eating the last chocolate pudding.
~
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
MeMe & the 'Viro-Mint
MeMe and I have had a number of conversations, as most parents do with their children, about the environment … or, as she would say, the “’viro-mint”.
Once, when she was much smaller, walking home on an early spring evening:
She: “The snow is meltin’, mama. We’re gonna have a big flood.”
Me: “What makes you think it’s going to flood, honey?”
She: “Cuz there’s so much snow.”
Me: “It won’t flood, the water will go down the storm drains and back to the lakes and rivers. That’s why you can’t put anything bad down the drains.”
She: “Like what?”
Me: “Well, what kinds of things do you think? Would you put paint into the lakes?”
She: “No.”
Me: “Would you put gas from your car in the lakes?”
She: “No.”
Me: “What else do you think you shouldn’t put in the storm drains?”
She: “Apple juice.”
She obviously has some very strict personal guidelines for protecting the earth. She also likes apple juice too much to waste it. But I don’t like to think of that sensitivity as a childish thing she’ll grow out of. I like to think she’s already a better person than I am.
Another evening a few years ago, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, while I cut up strawberries … and she chirped about random things for a while, then said, matter-of-factly:
“Strawberries are good for the ‘viro-mint because they have LOTS of seeds. An’ seeds make more strawberries an’ those are plants an’ more plants is good for the ‘viro-mint, so we should buy more strawberries, mama.”
She’s developed a conscience, that way … she also loves strawberries, but she’s realizing now that there’s more to living on the earth than finding a good tree to tie a jump-rope to or patch of grass to cartwheel on.
She's realizing now that her world extends beyond the playroom and playground.
~~~
I remember when I was little, the first animal that made me aware of the environment was the killer whale. Growing up in B.C., you can’t avoid them.
We learned in school about people who killed whales for profit and how dirtying the ocean hurt their habitat. We were told about people who dumped oil and chemicals and made the fish the whales depend on for food get sick and die, so the whales would have to travel far from home to find something good to eat … or the whales would eat the bad fish and get sick and die.
And I went on a family trip to the Vancouver Aquarium and saw the captive ones. I wanted to touch one, more than anything. I remember rubbing the underneath of my tongue and wondering if that’s what a killer whale would feel like.
After we’d toured the exhibits, we went into the gift shop and I remember really really wanting one of the stuffed killer whales, but was too shy to ask for one. And, when you’re only in grade one, it’s not a fake whale … to you it’s a whale you can touch … real enough to love and hold and protect … small enough to take home in your coat.
I see that need in MeMe.
She found a soft, white Easter lamb in a store and cried when I told her she couldn’t take it home. I knelt in front of her, trying to explain to her that she couldn’t have every toy she sees, tried to compromise and get her to choose one that was less expensive and rubbed her back, listened to her hic-cough and watched her face get redder and blotchier … I know her well enough to know the heartbreak wasn’t about having a toy … and I realized she’d already fallen in love with the lamb while I was busy reading the shampoo bottles.
One night we were lying in her bed, reading a story … I was falling off the edge of the bed, crowded out by all of her buddies … and I asked her why she needed to take 57 stuffed animals to sleep with her.
She answered, “They’re scared of the dark, mama. See? I have them all sitting so they can see and so they can breathe. And the friends are together.”
MeMe’s not afraid of the dark … never has been. She has never had a nightlight and has never had a nightmare … has never once plodded into my room in the middle of the night because she found something scary.
That’s not what the animals in the bed were about. She thought she was taking care of them. And it occurred to me that it is a very brave thing for a 6-year-old to take on the responsibility of being guardian to that many loved ones while she sleeps.
~~~
When MeMe was a little more than 3 years old, we were walking out of our apartment building and I spotted a little brown bird lying on the concrete beside the lobby window.
At first, I grabbed her jacket sleeve to steer her away from the bird, hoping she wouldn’t see it and get upset or, even worse, ask questions. But I realized maybe it had just hit the window and was stunned. So, instead of hiding it, I pointed it out to her and crouched down beside it to pick it up. MeMe sat curiously on the ground next to me. I explained to her that maybe the bird would die, but maybe it was just bonked … and maybe, if we watched over it for a few minutes while it slept, it would be ok.
The two of us sat cross-legged on the cement at the doorway and I put the bird in her hands and closed mine over hers, so only the bird’s face was peeking out. As we sat there, I explained to her that sometimes God wants the animals with Him … and sometimes God wants the animals to be free on the earth … and sometimes God gives us a chance to help them stay with us for a little longer.
After a couple of minutes of sitting and staring at our hands, she giggled and squeaked, “It’s tickling me, mama!” … so we slowly opened our hands and the little bird was on its feet … the bird chirped a couple of times and jumped onto MeMe’s jacket … and, from there, to her shoulder … and back to her tummy … and bounced around on her for a few seconds … and then flew away.
She will still often say to me, on a nice day when we’re outside and can hear the birds cheeping, “Do you remember that little brown bird, mama? The one that I saved?”
I’m so grateful she was old enough to remember the little bird she helped … and I wonder sometimes, when she grows up, if that little bird will be her killer whale.
~~~
Once, when she was much smaller, walking home on an early spring evening:
She: “The snow is meltin’, mama. We’re gonna have a big flood.”
Me: “What makes you think it’s going to flood, honey?”
She: “Cuz there’s so much snow.”
Me: “It won’t flood, the water will go down the storm drains and back to the lakes and rivers. That’s why you can’t put anything bad down the drains.”
She: “Like what?”
Me: “Well, what kinds of things do you think? Would you put paint into the lakes?”
She: “No.”
Me: “Would you put gas from your car in the lakes?”
She: “No.”
Me: “What else do you think you shouldn’t put in the storm drains?”
She: “Apple juice.”
She obviously has some very strict personal guidelines for protecting the earth. She also likes apple juice too much to waste it. But I don’t like to think of that sensitivity as a childish thing she’ll grow out of. I like to think she’s already a better person than I am.
Another evening a few years ago, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, while I cut up strawberries … and she chirped about random things for a while, then said, matter-of-factly:
“Strawberries are good for the ‘viro-mint because they have LOTS of seeds. An’ seeds make more strawberries an’ those are plants an’ more plants is good for the ‘viro-mint, so we should buy more strawberries, mama.”
She’s developed a conscience, that way … she also loves strawberries, but she’s realizing now that there’s more to living on the earth than finding a good tree to tie a jump-rope to or patch of grass to cartwheel on.
She's realizing now that her world extends beyond the playroom and playground.
~~~
I remember when I was little, the first animal that made me aware of the environment was the killer whale. Growing up in B.C., you can’t avoid them.
We learned in school about people who killed whales for profit and how dirtying the ocean hurt their habitat. We were told about people who dumped oil and chemicals and made the fish the whales depend on for food get sick and die, so the whales would have to travel far from home to find something good to eat … or the whales would eat the bad fish and get sick and die.
And I went on a family trip to the Vancouver Aquarium and saw the captive ones. I wanted to touch one, more than anything. I remember rubbing the underneath of my tongue and wondering if that’s what a killer whale would feel like.
After we’d toured the exhibits, we went into the gift shop and I remember really really wanting one of the stuffed killer whales, but was too shy to ask for one. And, when you’re only in grade one, it’s not a fake whale … to you it’s a whale you can touch … real enough to love and hold and protect … small enough to take home in your coat.
I see that need in MeMe.
She found a soft, white Easter lamb in a store and cried when I told her she couldn’t take it home. I knelt in front of her, trying to explain to her that she couldn’t have every toy she sees, tried to compromise and get her to choose one that was less expensive and rubbed her back, listened to her hic-cough and watched her face get redder and blotchier … I know her well enough to know the heartbreak wasn’t about having a toy … and I realized she’d already fallen in love with the lamb while I was busy reading the shampoo bottles.
One night we were lying in her bed, reading a story … I was falling off the edge of the bed, crowded out by all of her buddies … and I asked her why she needed to take 57 stuffed animals to sleep with her.
She answered, “They’re scared of the dark, mama. See? I have them all sitting so they can see and so they can breathe. And the friends are together.”
MeMe’s not afraid of the dark … never has been. She has never had a nightlight and has never had a nightmare … has never once plodded into my room in the middle of the night because she found something scary.
That’s not what the animals in the bed were about. She thought she was taking care of them. And it occurred to me that it is a very brave thing for a 6-year-old to take on the responsibility of being guardian to that many loved ones while she sleeps.
~~~
When MeMe was a little more than 3 years old, we were walking out of our apartment building and I spotted a little brown bird lying on the concrete beside the lobby window.
At first, I grabbed her jacket sleeve to steer her away from the bird, hoping she wouldn’t see it and get upset or, even worse, ask questions. But I realized maybe it had just hit the window and was stunned. So, instead of hiding it, I pointed it out to her and crouched down beside it to pick it up. MeMe sat curiously on the ground next to me. I explained to her that maybe the bird would die, but maybe it was just bonked … and maybe, if we watched over it for a few minutes while it slept, it would be ok.
The two of us sat cross-legged on the cement at the doorway and I put the bird in her hands and closed mine over hers, so only the bird’s face was peeking out. As we sat there, I explained to her that sometimes God wants the animals with Him … and sometimes God wants the animals to be free on the earth … and sometimes God gives us a chance to help them stay with us for a little longer.
After a couple of minutes of sitting and staring at our hands, she giggled and squeaked, “It’s tickling me, mama!” … so we slowly opened our hands and the little bird was on its feet … the bird chirped a couple of times and jumped onto MeMe’s jacket … and, from there, to her shoulder … and back to her tummy … and bounced around on her for a few seconds … and then flew away.
She will still often say to me, on a nice day when we’re outside and can hear the birds cheeping, “Do you remember that little brown bird, mama? The one that I saved?”
I’m so grateful she was old enough to remember the little bird she helped … and I wonder sometimes, when she grows up, if that little bird will be her killer whale.
~~~
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Pumpkin cookies with orange frosting
Whenever I make these cookies, people always ask for the recipe. Even the pickiest cookie-connoisseurs love them. They freeze well and look great when they’re defrosted ... so they’re perfect to keep in the freezer for holiday guests (but I guarantee they won’t last long enough)
COOKIE INGREDIENTS:
1 ½ cups of all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground clove
½ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp salt
½ cup softened butter
1 ½ cups white sugar
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
COOKIE DIRECTIONS:
- Preheat oven to 350.
- Combine all dry ingredients. Set aside.
- In a medium-sized mixing bowl, blend together softened butter and sugar until creamy. Add egg, pumpkin puree and vanilla and beat until mixed.
- Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix.
- Drop spoonfuls of dough onto cookie sheets, allowing for a little space to expand.
- Bake for 8-11 minutes (depending on the size of your cookies) until slightly golden on the edges.
- Tip: I use the small scooper-dealie from Pampered Chef. The cookies that size take about 11 minutes (in my oven) and I can fit 12 on a regular-sized cookie sheet.
- Makes approximately 36 cookies.
- Glaze with orange icing (recipe below)
~~~
ORANGE FROSTING
Ingredients:
1 Tbsp melted butter
1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)
Zest of one orange
Juice of 1/2 orange (in a pinch, I’ll use frozen o.j.)
Approx 2 cups confectioner’s (icing) sugar
- Mix ingredients.
- Either drizzle over cookies or dunk the tops of the cookies into the frosting glaze.
- Allow to dry before storing cookies.
Almond/flax butter
1 1/2 cups toasted whole almonds
1 cup raw whole almonds
¼ cup flax oil
¼ cup canola, sunflower or vegetable oil (your choice)
1 pinch sea salt
2 heaping Tbsp flax (or ground flax)
Add all ingredients to food processer and pulse until you reach desired smoothness.
Store in the refrigerator.
Just a couple of points to note:
- The flax oil does add a grassy flavour. If you don’t like it, skip it and use all veg oil instead.
- I use very little salt in my nut butters. For how we eat or use it most often, we don’t like it very salty. Commercial peanut butters have trained people to think it needs to be salty/sweet. We prefer it not to be. If you’re transitioning kids off of commercial peanut butters, you might want to try adding a pinch or two of sugar to your first couple of batches, until they’re used to it.
- It’s been said time and time again, but letting kids participate in making something really DOES work to encourage them to try and like something. This was the case for my daughter. She now refuses to take anything with store-bought peanut butter, telling people she prefers her own better.
- I add the flax seeds for no particular reason other than I put it in pretty much everything I have an opportunity to. I joke with my friends that “cooking with flax” is a hobby of mine. I do think it helps to thicken the almond butter and add a little body.
- Remember that the almond butter will thicken up a little, when it’s refrigerated and cool.
A loving creature ...
Once, when my daughter was smaller, she and I were walking home from the sitter's. As usual, she was chattering away ...
"We saw a dead squirrel today, mama. It was all squished by a car."
Then she continued excitedly,
"It had blood comin' from it's nose ... an' there was blood comin' from everywhere ... and its tongue was totally broke-ded off!"
I commented that it must've been gross.
With that, her steps slowed and her voice softened, "Yeah, but it was sad. It was a loving animal. It was a loving creature, you know?"
I asked, "Don't you mean a living creature?"
And she stopped. Hand already in mine, she yanked my arm, so I would face her ... and she looked up at me with sad velvety eyes,
"No, mommy. It was a LOVING animal. It prolly had BABIES."
"We saw a dead squirrel today, mama. It was all squished by a car."
Then she continued excitedly,
"It had blood comin' from it's nose ... an' there was blood comin' from everywhere ... and its tongue was totally broke-ded off!"
I commented that it must've been gross.
With that, her steps slowed and her voice softened, "Yeah, but it was sad. It was a loving animal. It was a loving creature, you know?"
I asked, "Don't you mean a living creature?"
And she stopped. Hand already in mine, she yanked my arm, so I would face her ... and she looked up at me with sad velvety eyes,
"No, mommy. It was a LOVING animal. It prolly had BABIES."
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