Sunday, April 19, 2009

I'll laugh later. **Updated with pics**

**UPDATE at the bottom**

I'm having one of those moments where I am so stinking mad right now but I know I'll laugh later and shoot myself for, in my haste and anger, not taking pictures. I'm having one of those moments where my parenting skills are making me proud and challenging the heck out of me. I'm having one of those moments where my heart melts, while wanting to duct tape my child to a pole. I'm definitely having one of those moments.

Pleeaase tell me, who opens up the freezer, at 7:30 am, looking for something to eat? Well, my 2 yr old daughter, apparently. Ha, and I thought I'd be safe.

You see, I'm in charge of making the family's birthday cakes. A charge given to me by my mother who so wonderfully offered to babysit while I took a cake decorating class this winter. Which I loved, and I more than happy to show off my mad skills practice what I learned. And I love the opportunity to be creative. Plus, considering it's with food, it's a good outlet for me. And I love birthdays, which makes it all that much more perfect for me.

So after raking my ENTIRE yard yesterday, leaving my leggs feeling like wet noodles, my hips, lower back and specifically my pelvis (childbirth injury) aching like never before, I asked my wonderful hubby to please pick up some cake mixes on his way home from work. So, dog tired, I baked this cake for my little brother's 30th birthday, after all the kids were asleep. Then it had to cool, I had to assembe it some, and then I put it in the freezer 1. to keep out of sight for my wolverine-like children (when it comes to cake, there's no stopping them) and 2. to help make it easier for frosting. I got to bed after midnight. Not good.

My son comes to my bedside this morning telling me Cheeks is eating cake. Is it in a container, I ask. Yeah. Ok, then, she can eat it.

He apparently doesn't know what a container is, because she was not eating the "bits" from the fridge, No. She was eating THE CAKE FROM THE FREEZER. Just knawing off a nice row around the entire edge of this cake. Not nibbles, mind you, but big. huge. full. bites.


Actually, I yelled. not sighed.

This is going to make my life SO MUCH MORE complicated today. And today is not a good day for that.

I know that I will laugh in years to come. But not today.

So, being a little tenderhearted as she is these days, she felt sorry, and kept coming to me to say sorry, which she follows up with I'm forgive you. It's really sweet and you can tell it's a genuine "sorry", but it's like she's waiting for me to say "I forgive you" and her saying it is a little prompt for that. This would be the moment I'm proud of, and that's challenging me, but I'm so. stinkin'. mad. that I'm even having a hard time writing that. Not every parent teaches their kids to appologize. Not every parent teaches personal responsibility, or the fact that one would even need to be sorry. And then there's the thing about the child actually doing it on their own. This child, my child, is 2. She saying sorry, meaning it, and doing it on her own. melt.

The problem lies in the fact that I don't want to say "I forgive you." Because I'm mad. And this is happening before I'm even out of bed. And I'm tired. And not quite awake yet. And I'm mad. And tired.

But I did. It took me a few minutes though.

Maybe I'll post pics of the cake later. It will show a beautiful cake, and you'd never know the trauma it experienced in a pre-frosted state. But I know. Because I'm not laughing yet.
**Update: here's the pics. I'm still not totally laughing yet, but the cake did actually turn out pretty cool because of the "situation" I had to correct. Gave it more of a baseball feel. Just had to let go of my need for perfection and precision. And the recipient was more than pleased.
The cake.

The culprit.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Go figure.

So today was Palm Sunday. The church I go to is not particularly liturgical in it's ways, but occasionally they throw something, in some form or another, in, that could be seen as liturgical, but only slightly, usually. Today was one of those days.

Lil'D is sick with a bad cold so he stayed home with Daddy so as not to miss nap time. The older 3 and I barreled our way thru what was supposed to be 5 inches of snow (Ha. Ha. I knew we wouldn't really get any.) My intention was to read the kids a bible story about Palm Sunday, so they would know going in what it was about. Well, seeing as the "Easter Bunny" is getting them kids' Bibles for easter, I was unable to find another book in our house that included it. And, surprise surprise, I ran out of time. So I did my lamest best to recount the story in a kid-friendly fashion, in the car, on the way to church, screaming from the front. ahem. :D Hosanna. Jesus is Coming.

Once at church, the kids come down the isle, I scooted to the front, tried to get a few shots on my snappy camera, and ended up down in front with all 3 of my babes at my side. Cheeks was totally not into waving her "palm" frond (it looked more like some type of fern branch, but who's picky). I even got to have one. So there we are, in the front, and I start bawling. What is that all about?? Isn't Palm Sunday a joyous occasion? Aren't God's people celebrating His arrival? And what am I doing, in front of 100+ other people??? Crying. Whyyyy should I be surprised. This is me, I'm talking about, Mrs. Rainstorm in da hawss. Whatever.

So really, what's that all about? God's grace surely has something to do with it, since that usually has something to do with it. Praising Jesus with my children at my side? The Glory in his coming? The knowledge of the suffering he was to endure? The humility in knowing that he did that for me? Dunno.

What I do know is that God is stirring in me, lately, and in those around me. But what I also see, and need to constantly remind myself, and prepare for, is that satan also is stirring especially hard in those times. Exciting. And scary.

Have a happy Holy Week. Jesus IS coming.