Twinkle: In Your Face, Fun Sink!

Whether out of selfishness or malice, Fun Sink tried to ruin the half birthday fun, but we wouldn't let her! Here's a final pic of the pink, fluffy deliciousness.

You know what needs a good strawberry cake recipe? The YWC cookbook. Hope it's printed in time for Hanukkah!

Twinkle: Third Cake's a Charm: Cake Mystery Solved

So, after a short blogging break last night, I decided Tiny T deserved a second attempt at a half birthday cake. I followed the same recipe, but left out the strawberries that seemed to make the cake way too watery. Similar result, although there was less boiling...it was more like a low simmer when the cake came out of the oven well past the recommended cooking time. It was flat, sad, and gooey, but not gooey in a good way. It was gooey in an inedible way.

Undeterred, I decided on a third attempt, so this morning Mr. Twinks and the girls were sent for more cake ingredients while I slept in. This cake is not fancy--it involves a white mix and some add-ons--it's less Martha Stewart and more Semi-Homemade With Sandra Lee, but it's damn good and Tiny T requested it. Anyway, Mr. Twinks came back with a box of Duncan Hines white cake mix (he still insists that the problem with the original cakes was that I used an organic white cake mix from Whole Foods).

I noticed something on the Duncan Hines box: it called for 1/4 cup of oil, and 1 cup of water. On Fun Sink's recipe, it called for 1/4 cup of water and 3/4 cup of oil, which I thought seemed like an awful lot. Curious, isn't it?

I'm no conspiracy theorist. I want to think the best, but maybe I'd have an easier time dismissing it if Fun Sink actually treated me nicely sometimes. I wonder if the motivation is more nefarious in that she doesn't want me to be the sweet kind of mom who makes her kids half birthday cakes, or if it's more selfish in that she just wants to be the only one who can make the strawberry cake. Either way, I feel cockblocked (or cakeblocked), yet I have triumphed through adversity.

Above is the third cake--light, fluffy, and delicious. Thanks for nothing, Fun Sink.

More importantly, Happy Half Birthday, Tiny T!

Twinkle: You've Screwed Me Again, Fun Sink!

I like to make my kids half birthday cakes. It's a tradition in our house. We literally make half a cake, with half the writing on each line, and everybody loves it and it's super-cute.

Anybody ever had Fun Sink's strawberry cake? It's pink, light, fluffy, and delicious. So when Tiny T said she wanted a pink cake for her half birthday tomorrow, I asked Fun Sink for the recipe. And I spent the whole evening chopping and draining damn strawberries, because Fun Sink told me frozen strawberries would be fine and Fun Sink actually gave me the strawberries. (I probably would have used fresh had it not been for her insistence that frozen would be fine, and her insistence on actually giving me the frozen strawberries). It turns out frozen strawberries were not fine--or something else about the recipe was not fine--because I ended up with this monstrosity. The cake batter was actually boiling when I took it out of the oven, 15 minutes after the longest cooking time.

Mr Twinkle: "I bet it'll taste good. After it...congeals."

Anyway, I guess we'll all head on over to the Pie Kitchen tomorrow, but that won't be as fun as eating half a homemade cake. Thanks for screwing up the half birthday tradition with your jacked-up recipe, Fun Sink--not sure of you did it on purpose or not, but this cake was nothing like the light, fluffy, pink deliciousness that you make. You girls know I've been cooking and baking long enough to competently follow a recipe. I should have expected it.

--

We also had a conversation with Fun Sink about the school board ruling (big congrats to Julep on her win...although, I have to say, as a parent, I feel like a loser). Anyway, not to get into all that, but Fun Sink actually agrees with Mr. Twinks and me about a lot of issues and it's fun to get her take. She starts the finger-pointing and the "here's what they should do..." and it's entertaining.

So Fun Sink is all, "Well, I may just have to homeschool them myself," which I'm sure we can all agree is more than a little presumptuous. And Mr. Twinkle jokingly said, "You'll have to fight their mother for it."

Let me just say that I do not want to homeschool anyone, but I am fully confident that I could if it were necessary. If I ever did, it would be a last resort. It would be beyond a last resort. I can't imagine anything less fun than teaching my girls math instead of, say, having lunch at Ghyslain with a pal during one of my few moments of free time. But, if I had to take control of their education and homeschool them, believe me: I would. And I know I would do a better job than some of the illiterate half-wits employed by the JCPS.

Of course, Fun Sink had to tell me all about how I couldn't do it and how hard it would be (like I don't know it would be hard) and how it would be impossible with children so many different ages. I wonder what she'd say to the news that we're looking at montessori schools, which have mixed-age classrooms by definition. (One of the things I like about montessori is that there might actually be a time in which all my girls could be in the same classroom, working and learning together. Call me a hippie, but I think that would be great). Of course she had to tell me I could never do it. And I could turn around and tell her the same thing: she'll never do it, because this mama would never, ever, EVER allow it to happen.

She also had to tell us how indispensable she is...she was replaced because of that new rule about putting assistant principals in all the schools this year. They basically cut her job and gave it to an assistant principal instead (she was semi-retired). But now the person doing her job is incompetent, and the assistant principal is incompetent, and blah blah blah, the universe can't function without her.

I told her she should run for school board--and I meant it. She's got good ideas, plus she's boring and dour, so she'd fit right in with the group. She'd probably love the long, boring meetings where they discuss budgets and busing plans, and I know she'd love lording it over the public by being in charge of their children.

Julep: I TOLD YOU SO...

I told you so, I told you so!

Ahhhh. It feels good to get that off my chest.

We are leaving on vacation in a couple of hours. Last night, after the Bear went to sleep, I was running all over the house frantically trying to accomplish a whole host of things that need to be taken care of before we leave town for a week. Mr. J was parked on the couch. I asked him to take on several tasks, and he said "OK" but didn't get up.

I finally said, "you know, it feels like I am working my @$$ off around here while you are sitting on your @$$ watching TV, and that doesn't make me feel good." He said, "You should relax. I told everyone that I am out of town as of noon tomorrow, so the sitter will be here and I'll have several hours to get everything wrapped up. Just make a list of things you want me to do. Just leave a pile of things you want packed. I'll take care of it."

Personally, I cannot relax when I have a list of things to accomplish. If you are going to have three hours of free time somewhere in the next 24 hours, wouldn't you rather have those hours at the end of your list of things to do, comfortable in the knowledge that you got your shit done already? Also, I am a firm believer that you should get things done when you have an open window of opportunity because you just never know what will crop up. (I find this rule to be even more true now that I am a parent.)

But you know, mileage may vary. I have so many other reasons to nag, I try not to make a big deal out of philosophical differences. Last night I did not stop doing the things that I planned to accomplish myself, but I did stop griping at him to get up.

Well, guess who called me at 12:15 pm. The sitter has not arrived. (Possible miscommunication with the Sitter Guru about whether we needed help at all as we are heading out of town today.) Guess who has a giant list of things to do that he now has to plow through while entertaining the Bear. Guess who wanted sympathy.

I did my best. I commiserated that yes, it will be hard to get those things done. When he started to sound a little grouchy, like I wasn't sympathetic enough ... what does he want? I'm at the office, finishing a project ... I said, "Look, I'm biting my tongue over here. I see that this will be very tough to accomplish, and I'm sorry for you about that. Let's leave it there, I have to get back to work."

I. TOLD. YOU. SO.

Twinkle: Hypocrisy Happens

Actual conversation from today between Mr. Twinkle and Fun Sink:

Mr. Twinkle: You know, Twinkle would have helped you with the meal and setup, if you'd asked her.

Fun Sink: That's OK; I know she's tired and has a lot going on this year.

(That sounds nice on the surface, but she makes an excuse like this every single time, and the real issue is that she doesn't want to share in the credit)

Mr. Twinkle: Well, be sure to ask her next time, because she'd really like to help.

(I actually would--he's not throwing me under the bus, here. It would actually mean a lot to me to be included and treated like a member of the family, after almost 6 years of marriage).

Fun Sink: Is she going to be in the same situation next year?

(Fun Sink, we've been over this. This is not your business).

Mr. Twinkle: Probably not.

Fun Sink: Mistakes happen.

(REALLY NOT YOUR BUSINESS, FUN SINK).

Mr. Twinkle: You mean like Lindsey?

(Boo ya).

Fun Sink: Lindsey was NOT a mistake!

Then she had to lean down the aisle and tell me and everyone else that Lindsey was most definitely not a mistake, even though she openly admitted it in an infamous conversation years ago. Even Lindsey laughs about being a mistake. So I just want to remind Fun Sink that she who is without mistakes should go on ahead and cast the first stone.

Twinkle: Fun Sink's Martyrdom

So tonight Fun Sink served dinner to 47 people, and yes, that is an impressive feat. According to a conversation Mr. Twinkle had with his dad, she's sort of over her role as banquet chef, and I don't blame her.

My FIL encouraged her to cut back--he reminded her that she doesn't have to be the longsuffering martyr who runs a matzo ball soup kitchen for everyone she knows every holiday. He encouraged her to cut some people if she has to, just to make her life easier. He was trying to be nice and help his wife.

But what does a martyr like Fun Sink do when someone tries to take away the source of her martyrdom? Why, get mad, of course. If she invited fewer people, she wouldn't be able to complain about there being too many people. Instead of saying "thanks for trying to make my life easier," Fun Sink accused my FIL of "not appreciating her." (That's the most I could get out of Mr. Twinkle. He's not the best communicator, and the fact that he could convey the basics of this conversation to me third-hand is a Rosh Hashanah miracle in itself).

Anyway, here's my problem: I have offered to help her many times. I've offered to bring food; I've offered to help set up. And I meant it, too. I like cooking; I like throwing parties; I could certainly inject some much-needed pizzazz into an otherwise bland and boring event. In my opinion, if you reject other people's offers to help, you have no right to complain about doing it all yourself. I can only conclude that, even though the work is overwhelming, it's worth it to her because it gives her something to complain about, and complaining is Fun Sink's raison d'etre. So she can go on hosting huge meals and taking in strays, and that's her business--but I don't have sympathy for someone whose own choices make things harder than they have to be.

Twinkle: Random Musings on M&Ms and the Great Chair Controversy

So I'm putting together these little goodie bags with pink and white M&Ms, featuring the name of Twinkle Baby #3. I set the M&M precedent when Twinklette was born; continuing the tradition seems an important thing to do in the name of sibling fairness.

So here I sit, decanting M&Ms into small plastic bags, and I started to wonder if these M&Ms will cause a controversy with my SIL and niece. The Twinkle family M&M tradition has never been an issue for them before, because they weren't here when Twinklette or Tiny T were born; they'll be in town this time for a conveniently-timed wedding. These bags contain probably 1.5 ounces of M&Ms...they are merely a friendly gesture from us to visitors at the hospital, and a way to announce the name. We really don't mean to contribute to the American obesity epidemic; for us it's just a fun way to celebrate the birth of our child. But I wonder if Sophie will be allowed to have a bag. I wonder if she can even have one or two M&Ms. Sadly, I may never know. I'll probably be on a table having my abdomen sewn back together when the sh*t goes down.

I also forgot to discuss my sister- and brother-in-law's Great Chair Controversy. I'll make it concise as it's not that interesting: they needed some chairs for their living room, so my brother-in-law basically had to sit in every chair on the eastern seaboard to see which ones were best. The chair search has been going on for more than a year and has spanned several states. I think they finally found some; I don't really know or care. I just know it's over, and even though I haven't seen the chairs, my guess is they're butt ugly.

What's interesting to me is what it says about their relationship. Because, if I were in the market for chairs, I would go pick out some damn chairs and that would be the end of it. I would choose chairs I thought were pretty; I probably wouldn't even sit in them. It depends on what kind of chair, actually...if it were a chair for reclining and watching TV, that would be different. I would probably involve Mr. Twinks in that choice. But I don't see comfort as the over-riding factor in choosing living room chairs. Mr Twinkle wouldn't be involved in the process and wouldn't want to be. He'd be happy when the chairs arrived--happy he didn't have to help me choose them, and happy to have a place to sit. He would say "good job on the chairs--they look great" and we'd move on with our lives.

I know my sister-in-law's taste isn't developed enough for her to know what she really likes or why she likes it, which has to make chair selection harder than it should be (that's why I want my children to know what they like and why they like it from an early age). But the Great Chair Controversy is more than that: it makes me think that my brother-in-law hasn't been trained well, and that my sister-in-law hasn't been well-schooled in how to handle her husband--and that's got to be Fun Sink's fault. I've even said in front of my MIL and FIL that I think the ongoing chair controversy is dumb (they complained about it all the time it was going on), and I don't know why my SIL even gives him a say. Of course my MIL doesn't like this kind of talk--as dumb as she knows the chair controversy is and as much as she has complained about it, she still can't stand to think that her precious son would be left out of decorating decisions in his own home (even though he wants to be left out). She thinks she raised a daughter to be magnanimous and egalitarian about household decisions, but it took them more than a year to choose chairs, so it's really more of a pyrrhic victory. Meanwhile, Mr. Twinks and I seem to realize that home decor is not the place to take a stand for feminism. Maybe I don't have the moral high ground here, but at least I have the autonomy to choose my own chair without any male interference--and Mr. Twinkle wouldn't have it any other way.

Rant: Dibbs

No one complains about the government paying for prescriptions of Viagra. That is all.

Julep: child-parent expectations

My dad still has not met my son, now 10+ months old, and it's become an awkward subject - with other people. Maybe we'll be talking about Mr. J's parenting skills, or Mr-Papa's unexpected and completely adorable fascination with the Bear, and someone - to use the most recent examples, my college roommate and my doctor - will say something innocuous like "How about your dad, what's he like as a grandfather?" And I have to say, "Well, he hasn't met the Bear yet."

There are two reactions to this. From people I don't know as well (like the doctor), I get the RCA-dog expression: head tilted, brow furrowed, trying to process what I just said. For the first ... oh, I don't know, six to eight months, I tried to make excuses for him. I would jump in with something about how he lives in North Carolina, and he has a teenager, and they are very busy, blah blah blah. Now I just say gently, "My dad kind of sucks." They nod, and we move on.

From people I do know well, many of whom also know my dad, like the college roommate, I get a tirade. All I can do is nod along while they say things like, "What do you mean he hasn't met him yet? The kid is 10 months old! What is he waiting for, a driver's license? I don't care how busy he is! This is his grandson!" ... then they pause and say, "Wait, this isn't even his first grandson. How old are your sister's kids?" And I say, "Well, the older one is two years older than the Bear, and no, he hasn't met them either," and the rant resumes.

I can sort of excuse my dad for not having met Young-Sis's kids, because they have a pretty fraught relationship. I don't know that Young-Sis has ever invited him to come up and meet his grandkids, and given that she didn't invite him to her wedding (or even tell him about it personally) I can see that he might not feel welcome to come without an invitation. That said, I think he would have gone a million miles towards repairing their relationship if, upon news of her child-bearing, he had not only sent the lovely and expensive gift he did send but also told her that he would really like to come up and meet his grandson whenever she found it convenient. He wouldn't even have had to make the trip, the offer alone would have done him a world of good.

But he gets no free pass from me. While our relationship has not been ideal for the past fifteen years or so (it's never fully sprung back from the year he spent not speaking to me because I decided to move back to Louisville), we do still have a relationship that he would probably call good and that I would characterize as "decent under the circumstances" (the circumstances being that he kind of sucks).

I have been inviting him to come up since the Bear was born. I have started to get a little pushy about it. Maybe if Bear's baptism had been less of a last-minute scheduling emergency to squeeze in before his godfather's deployment, they would have made the trip for that. But it was very short notice and right at the holidays, so I didn't take it amiss that they couldn't get here. What about the subsequent eight months? Sure, Kid-Sis is a busy teenager, but they managed to spend Labor Day weekend on Kiawah. I didn't get a phone call asking if they could come here.

I am starting to wonder if maybe he just doesn't realize this is a thing. Maybe dynamics were different back in the 70s when he had kids the first time - and the only time he had a new baby while living more than an easy drive from his parents and in-laws. Maybe back in the day, people didn't make the trek like they do now. I wonder if I just need to sit him down and say, "Listen, Dad. There are certain things that you, as a [nominally] Good Parent, are supposed to do when your child adds a child of her own to your family tree. You sent a nice present, and that was lovely, but it's not sufficient. You have to come up and meet the baby: you travel to the baby, not the other way around, and you do it in fairly short order. This is a rule and everyone knows it but you. It's getting embarrassing, and I am tired of making excuses for you."

Not sure if that would hurt or help.

Julep: mental health break

Just saw this and loved it. I know we all love to read, so wanted to share it with you darling girls.