Twinkle: Amicable Cake Detente

So, I've decided I'm not going to bring the cake, mostly because I think competing over baked goods is stupid and I'm just refusing to participate in the attempted competition.

Mr. Twinkle was upset when he found out that I was asked not to bring the cake. I asked him what he thought happened. Completely on his own, he came up the same theory I have: Fun Sink found out I was bringing the cake and realized it couldn't happen because everyone would like it too much, so she took measures to ensure that I didn't bring it. Just the fact that Mr. Twinks knows how she operates--and is annoyed by it--is somehow enough for me in this instance.

So I'm making the cake for us on Friday, and the Thanksgiving masses will have to be content with my kick-ass green bean casserole (which is, obviously, slightly less kick-ass than the cake). Part of me wonders how Fun Sink convinced Amanda to tell me not to bring the cake--my guess is she said that it was too involved and time-consuming for a busy mother of three who doesn't have her sh*t together. Clearly I can handle the cake, as I'm making that in addition to a whole Thanksgiving meal, and I want both Fun Sink and Amanda to know that. I think it will be enough for me if Mr. Twinkle will just bring up the cake and how much he loves it in front of Fun Sink, and make sure she knows that I'm making it anyway, and he that likes it more than any cake she has ever made or could ever dream of making. Is that too much to ask for?

I guess what I'm really competing for here is my husband's loyalty. I know I'll win every time because he loves that cake, and he sees how completely manipulative and controlling his mother is--and how maniacally obsessed she is with being the best baker of the family--and did I mention he loves the cake? I'm also nice to him--nice enough not to put him in the crossfire of a cake war between his mother and me. Cake or no cake, I've already won, because he'll choose me over her every time.

Twinkle: Cakeblocked, Again!

Remember last Thanksgiving? Mr. Twinkle's uncle was sick and everybody came over for our little private Thanksgiving dinner on Friday, and I was stressed out about it being too fancy and over-the-top? And then it worked out OK?

Well, apparently the whole thing meant a lot to Mr. Twinkle's aunt (the one whose husband later died), because she's said a lot of nice things about it, and she asked me to bring the cake I made then to her Thanksgiving lunch this year: the Chocolate Gingerbread Toffee Cake from Southern Living. Baking this behemoth is no small feat, but all the effort is worth it. It is the most over-the-top cake I have ever made.

So it meant a lot to me that she remembered the cake and asked me to bring it (she's an old-school Southern lady from Philadelphia, Mississippi--the kind of woman who appreciates a labor-intensive cake from Southern Living, and so different from the rest of this family). So today I got all the ingredients and I was gearing up to spend the eve of Thanksgiving (and my birthday) baking this SOB.

She called today, explaining that Fun Sink is actually bringing the desserts. Fun Sink has made a lemon cake (which she makes for everything) and has procured a store-bought apple pie, which she plans to cover with caramel icing, Homemade Pie Kitchen-style. What Thanksgiving really needs now is a green bean casserole, so that's my new assignment. It's typical of Fun Sink to try to steal my cake thunder. What is this woman's deal with baking? I don't want this to be a competition, but she always makes it one. Why can't we both bring cakes?

So I'm thinking I should just bring the cake anyway, and we'll see who gravitates to ordinary lemon cake or store-bought faux Dutch apple pie, and who chooses the cake that was worthy of the cover of Southern Living's Christmas edition last year. Of course I'll bring the green bean casserole, too.

You know, this sort of thing always comes back to bite me. I'll stay up until 2 a.m. making ginger whipped cream, and no one will touch my cake because everyone loves Fun Sink's damn lemon cake. And yet I continue to try; I can't stop myself. One day I will prevail; one day Fun Sink will go down.

And, in that charitable and generous spirit, I bid you all a Happy Thanksgiving.

Twinkle: Quick Rant

I don't want to sound ungrateful for my three precious angels, because that's not it. I'm sure one day, when I am sipping Bellinis with the Twinkle girls in the spa at the Four Seasons, Mama Shoe-style, this will all be worth it, but right now it is hard. So when Mr. Twinkle's cousin called me four times this afternoon and then sent me a frantic text asking me to call her (presumably about what my girls want for Hanukkah), I really could not come to the phone. Really and truly, I could not. I was making sure no one fell down the steps, choked on an apple slice, drowned in the bathtub, or got electrocuted. And I'm happy to report that no one did, so I guess I can chalk this day up to a success. If I'd had time to answer the phone, I can't promise that I would have, because that cousin is annoying. But still, I really and truly couldn't, so maybe she should remember that I have three children under the age of four and just cut me some f*cking slack.

Twinkle: Anniversary Plans

Tomorrow marks 6 years of wedded bliss, and I really don't expect too much--maybe a nice casual dinner and a movie, preferably child-free. I'd be happy with that.

What I'm not happy with is this: my in-laws want to take us to brunch on our anniversary. I don't think this is normal; I think it's weird. Am I being a b*tch for just wanting to hang out and be lazy with my girls tomorrow morning, instead of trying to control the inevitable chaos that is restaurant dining with three children under age 5, in the presence of the very judgy Fun Sink? Maybe I should be more thankful that they want to spend time with us and treat our brood to a delicious meal. But I still don't think it's normal.

Mr. Twinks asked where I wanted to go. I said Silver Dollar.

We're going to North End.