Julep: Christmas Classic

I feel like y'all have heard this refrain so many times you can sing it for me, but I've got to share it....

Y'all know we are renovating the house. We will have two newly remodeled bathrooms when finished. (Someday, Lord ... someday!) What does every freshly painted bathroom call for? New towels, of course. And even new rugs. Both Mr-Mama and J-Mama thought this would be a good Christmas gift.

J-Mama told me she was thinking about buying us new rugs and towels, asked if that was something we really wanted, then came over and spent probably far longer than necessary in our new master bathroom (the one that is 90% finished) measuring the floor and asking what size rugs would suit us best and consulting us about colors. So when we opened our Christmas present, we found exactly what we would have picked out for ourselves, but for free!

Mr-Mama just went out and bought us a whole suite of towels and rugs. No asking. Wrong color, wrong sizes. No gift receipt.

When I told my mom, true to form, she tried to see Mr-Mama's perspective and pointed out to me that some people really like gifts that surprise. Sure, but you know, I don't need the element of surprise at the holidays as much as I need a comfortable bathroom that doesn't subtly irritate me every morning when I take a shower. And if you are going to buy people something they will use every day, don't you think you should be sure to buy what they want, not what you think they should want?

This whole escapade made me think of Twinkle's Hanukkah dining room chairs. How did that turn out?

Twinkle: Kiss My *ss, Fun Sink. Just kiss it.

Well, it has been a crazy couple of months as I've adjusted to three children, and this month was especially challenging as I made Hanukkah and Christmas magic happen for all. I always feel like the month of December wants to fight me, and every year when I win, I feel a huge sense of relief and accomplishment. That's what I felt today.

Tree/stairway garland down and out the door: check

House understatedly decorated for winter: check

Healthy dinner made and actually consumed (at least by one kid): check

Final transition of older sisters sharing a bedroom: check

The last one was huge, and it went off with much sisterly sweetness and minimal drama (knock on wood). So y'all can understand that when I sat down tonight, I felt pretty good. I felt like I was getting a handle on it all, like the three girl thing gives me more good moments than hard ones, like it's really and truly becoming a lot of fun.

And then Mr. Twinkle talked to Fun Sink, who just has a way of knocking the wind out of my sails every single time. I guess he mentioned that A and E started sharing a room, and she was unsupportive and asked him why we were doing it now (so that E doesn't have to give up her crib and her room and all her personal space all at once--and also because the girls are excited about being roommates--that's why, not that it's any of Fun Sink's business). She was mostly concerned because A likes to read before bed and E needs the light off. I'm sorry, but that's not her problem. If she had any faith in me as a mother, she'd trust that I'd taken care of it. I know A likes to look at her books. I encourage it, which is why I let her choose a book light so that she can still read in bed. Problem solved. Mind your own business, Fun Sink. It just bothers me that Fun Sink thinks I'm not going to encourage reading, or that I can't come up with a solution to the little problems that arise without her intervention. I mean--a light being on or off--why is that Fun Sink's concern? Talk about micromanagement.

And at the end of the day, all I can say is screw her. We've got a private girl club over here, and she's not in it. If she had any common sense, she'd start being nicer to the president.

Twinkle: It's a Hanukkah Dream Come True (Sort Of)

Here's a funny exchange between Mr. Twinkle and me tonight:

Me: So I take it you haven't exactly finished your Hanukkah shopping for me?

Mr. Twinkle: No. I still need to shop.

Me: (Trying to throw a guy a bone). Well, I have an idea. Why don't I go pick out some fabric to re-cover the dining room chairs, and that can be my Hanukkah?

(Glamorous, I know, but it desperately needs to be done).

Mr. Twinkle: Um...I think you might already be getting that...

Me: What? ... Your mom! ... That b*tch!

---

It's funny, but there's something different about me knowing it needs to be done and taking care of it, and her taking it upon herself to make it happen. It's nice of her; it's necessary, but it's also mildly annoying. I do find it hilarious that it's something that I want and need, but coming from her it seems pushy.

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.