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.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
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.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Twinkle: Monster Cookie
I'm sure y'all are sick of me harping on my laissez-faire attitude about my children eating sweets and how I constantly feel judged for it by Fun Sink and my SIL, but I have something to add to my growing list of evidence that my philosophy isn't really so bad.
Have you seen the monster cookie at the Homemade Pie Kitchen? It's a large chocolate chip cookie, folded in half, filled with icing, and accentuated with a "monster" face--it's over-the-top, and my kids seem to love the silly look of it more than they love actually eating it.
Miss A.M. had a field trip today, and I packed one of these monster cookies as a special treat. Incidentally, her lunch was commensurate with those of the other children--most included sandwiches, fruit, veggies, and some special sweets since it was a field trip. This tells me that--this will come as a shock to Fun Sink--I'm not a bad mom. I'm doing the same exact thing as all the other moms.
A.M. finished her lunch and took exactly one bite of the monster cookie. One bite. This happens more often than not, because she knows it will not be the first and last cookie she will ever encounter, and I'm fine with that even if it means a monster cookie is going to waste. What happens when Sophie has unsupervised access to M&Ms? Gluttony followed by tummyache followed by lots of anti-chocolate propaganda. My kid doesn't have to go ape sh*t on the monster cookie because she knows there'll be another cookie, another day--and she'll probably take one bite of that one, too.
That is all...other than that E. had a fever yesterday while visiting Fun Sink, and Fun Sink wanted to take her to the doctor. Herself. I admit that maybe I'm being over-sensitive here and maybe Fun Sink really did just want to help, but I feel like doctor visits fall strictly within the realm of parental responsibility. What's next, educational guardianship?
Have you seen the monster cookie at the Homemade Pie Kitchen? It's a large chocolate chip cookie, folded in half, filled with icing, and accentuated with a "monster" face--it's over-the-top, and my kids seem to love the silly look of it more than they love actually eating it.
Miss A.M. had a field trip today, and I packed one of these monster cookies as a special treat. Incidentally, her lunch was commensurate with those of the other children--most included sandwiches, fruit, veggies, and some special sweets since it was a field trip. This tells me that--this will come as a shock to Fun Sink--I'm not a bad mom. I'm doing the same exact thing as all the other moms.
A.M. finished her lunch and took exactly one bite of the monster cookie. One bite. This happens more often than not, because she knows it will not be the first and last cookie she will ever encounter, and I'm fine with that even if it means a monster cookie is going to waste. What happens when Sophie has unsupervised access to M&Ms? Gluttony followed by tummyache followed by lots of anti-chocolate propaganda. My kid doesn't have to go ape sh*t on the monster cookie because she knows there'll be another cookie, another day--and she'll probably take one bite of that one, too.
That is all...other than that E. had a fever yesterday while visiting Fun Sink, and Fun Sink wanted to take her to the doctor. Herself. I admit that maybe I'm being over-sensitive here and maybe Fun Sink really did just want to help, but I feel like doctor visits fall strictly within the realm of parental responsibility. What's next, educational guardianship?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Julep: Bright and early
I got to the office at 6:20 am. Why? Because my dear darling husband, light of my life, decided to wake me up at 3:45 am as he was coming to bed. He did not merely accidentally bump the mattress when sneaking upstairs after having fallen asleep on the couch. Oh no. He spoke to me. And not only did he speak to me, he kept on talking until I answered him.
Has this man forgotten everything that we learned in Freshman Marriage? I must not be awoken after 3 am on a work night. I am a very good sleeper in my first deep sleep. He can come to bed anytime before 2 or 2:30 am and have no fear that I will wake up. But I'm also a good waker. And once I've moved into a lighter sleep stage, if something (someone) wakes me up the rest of my night is shot to shit. We spent a long time on this lesson back in the first year course! We should not need to repeat this remedial material now that we have moved into Graduate Marriage Studies!
Apparently Mr. J fell asleep on the couch, and when he got up to stagger upstairs, he realized that Brown Dog had had some tummy trouble of the poo variety. (I suspect he stepped in it.) And he cleaned it up. Good on him. I would have been happy to praise him to the skies for this good husbandry if he had waited until 7 am to tell me about it, but I just don't see back-patting over basic house hygiene as something I need to wake up for.
Apparently unsatisfied by my continued silence, he wanted to warn me to wear shoes when I went downstairs in the morning, in case she had had more issues. "Honey! Honey, did you hear me? Honey! Be sure to wear your shoes when you go downstairs, okay? Honey? Honey, are you listening?"
Honey. The Post-It note is a wonderful invention that can be used for a hundred helpful purposes. One of them is the hand-off of information between the Night Shift and the Early Riser. God gave us a bathroom mirror. Use it. Do not wake my @$$ up at 3:45 in the morning unless there is a looming act of God that requires the family to relocate to the bomb shelter in the basement or someone is actively suffering from a dire illness that I can treat. Are we clear on that? 'K Thx Bye.
I warned him that if I were still lying awake at 5 am, I was going to get up and come to the office. He is on his own with Babycakes this morning. And I don't feel bad about it.
P.S. ... Twinks, congrats on the new addition! She's darling! Hoping to stop by the hospital with Dibbs later today.
Has this man forgotten everything that we learned in Freshman Marriage? I must not be awoken after 3 am on a work night. I am a very good sleeper in my first deep sleep. He can come to bed anytime before 2 or 2:30 am and have no fear that I will wake up. But I'm also a good waker. And once I've moved into a lighter sleep stage, if something (someone) wakes me up the rest of my night is shot to shit. We spent a long time on this lesson back in the first year course! We should not need to repeat this remedial material now that we have moved into Graduate Marriage Studies!
Apparently Mr. J fell asleep on the couch, and when he got up to stagger upstairs, he realized that Brown Dog had had some tummy trouble of the poo variety. (I suspect he stepped in it.) And he cleaned it up. Good on him. I would have been happy to praise him to the skies for this good husbandry if he had waited until 7 am to tell me about it, but I just don't see back-patting over basic house hygiene as something I need to wake up for.
Apparently unsatisfied by my continued silence, he wanted to warn me to wear shoes when I went downstairs in the morning, in case she had had more issues. "Honey! Honey, did you hear me? Honey! Be sure to wear your shoes when you go downstairs, okay? Honey? Honey, are you listening?"
Honey. The Post-It note is a wonderful invention that can be used for a hundred helpful purposes. One of them is the hand-off of information between the Night Shift and the Early Riser. God gave us a bathroom mirror. Use it. Do not wake my @$$ up at 3:45 in the morning unless there is a looming act of God that requires the family to relocate to the bomb shelter in the basement or someone is actively suffering from a dire illness that I can treat. Are we clear on that? 'K Thx Bye.
I warned him that if I were still lying awake at 5 am, I was going to get up and come to the office. He is on his own with Babycakes this morning. And I don't feel bad about it.
P.S. ... Twinks, congrats on the new addition! She's darling! Hoping to stop by the hospital with Dibbs later today.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Twinkle: Fun Sink Sucks Joy From Joyful Occasions
So, today was the birth of Baby B, a healthy and happy and ever-so-tiny baby girl, and I'm not going to mar a joyous occasion by dwelling too much on Fun Sink. But my gosh that woman is dour. I just gave birth to her grandchild, yet she barely said boo to me the whole day. Instead she just tried to boss everyone around, especially big sisters A and E, whom I was missing desperately and with whom I would have liked to have had a meaningful conversation about the new addition and how they were feeling (or in E's case, the 18-month-old equivalent pf a meaningful conversation: a little extra snuggle time).
Fun Sink had to boss them around like a drill sergeant. She thought everyone was taking up too much space in the hallway while B was getting her first bath in the window of the nursery. Everyone in both families was having fun watching her, and all Fun Sink coukd do was tell everyone to spread out and get out of the way. She wanted my hospital bed out of the way, too (I was lucky enough to be wheeled by as the bath was happening), and E wanted to cuddle with her mama, and all Fun Sink could do was yell at everyone about blocking the hallway.
She also happened to come into the room after B and I had been engaging in a little feeding and skin-to-skin...so B was haphazardly wrapped in blankets so that the grandparents could get their first chances to hold her that much sooner. Fun Sink had to be all, "That is NOT a very good swaddle." It wasn't a swaddle at all. It wasn't supposed to be a swaddle--we knew the grandparents were anxious to hold her so I guess Mr. Twinks didn't bother with the swaddle. But she just has to comment negatively on everything.
In other news, I think I might be giving my children candy just to piss off Fun Sink. A asked if she could have a little packet of the new baby's personalized M&Ms, even though it was right before dinner. I said she could because it was a special occasion...but really I just wanted to see what Fun Sink would say. True to dour form, Fun Sink told her she needed to wait until after dinner, and when A started to protest that I said it was ok, I was all, "No, Fun Sink--I told her she could have those because it's a special day." It shut her up, but she hated it.
I'm just over all of it. Maybe it's the hormones or the drugs or the fact that I'm now responsible for three little girls and I'd like rule over them benevolently, but I have just had it with Fun Sink's incessant nagging and negativity, and I cannot stay quiet anymore.
Fun Sink had to boss them around like a drill sergeant. She thought everyone was taking up too much space in the hallway while B was getting her first bath in the window of the nursery. Everyone in both families was having fun watching her, and all Fun Sink coukd do was tell everyone to spread out and get out of the way. She wanted my hospital bed out of the way, too (I was lucky enough to be wheeled by as the bath was happening), and E wanted to cuddle with her mama, and all Fun Sink could do was yell at everyone about blocking the hallway.
She also happened to come into the room after B and I had been engaging in a little feeding and skin-to-skin...so B was haphazardly wrapped in blankets so that the grandparents could get their first chances to hold her that much sooner. Fun Sink had to be all, "That is NOT a very good swaddle." It wasn't a swaddle at all. It wasn't supposed to be a swaddle--we knew the grandparents were anxious to hold her so I guess Mr. Twinks didn't bother with the swaddle. But she just has to comment negatively on everything.
In other news, I think I might be giving my children candy just to piss off Fun Sink. A asked if she could have a little packet of the new baby's personalized M&Ms, even though it was right before dinner. I said she could because it was a special occasion...but really I just wanted to see what Fun Sink would say. True to dour form, Fun Sink told her she needed to wait until after dinner, and when A started to protest that I said it was ok, I was all, "No, Fun Sink--I told her she could have those because it's a special day." It shut her up, but she hated it.
I'm just over all of it. Maybe it's the hormones or the drugs or the fact that I'm now responsible for three little girls and I'd like rule over them benevolently, but I have just had it with Fun Sink's incessant nagging and negativity, and I cannot stay quiet anymore.
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