Can He Bake A Colored Cake?

Campers has reached the age where he wants to help out in the kitchen.

I told him that when *I* learned to cook, 85 years ago, that *I* started with desserts for two reasons.

1. They tasted good
2. They tasted good

I was a kid. What did you expect?

So Campers begged, oh did he beg and beg for me to gotothestorerightnow and pick up a cake mix and frosting.

And, being the sugar-loving, obedient mother that I am, I complied.

I didn't get any pictures of the actual mixing, baking, and decorating because, oh how shall I say it?

THERE WAS A LOT OF "DISCUSSION" GOING ON.

But look at the end result:

Didn't both boys do a great job?

Cake Making 101. Let me know if I passed.

Why Having A Sister Is So Much Fun

Subtitled: Campers Will Hate These Pictures In Approximately Six Years.

The Suz got some new hair accessories for Christmas.

And since the Suz has approximate three stands of hair and won't sit still for a grooming session anyway, the boys dolled up their own 'dos.

(Although, only Campers' bands would stay in. Zig's hair was too thick. As if there IS such a thing, but alas, THERE IS.)

Lest you think Campers was embarrassed by all this, think again. He ran right outside to play with his friends, his hairstyle in full view of the entire neighborhood.

Guess we're still at the state where HE embarrasses ME.

Bu wa ha ha, THAT WILL ALL CHANGE SOON ENOUGH.

Until then, you can all rest in knowing that the hair-bobs have been put away and the MEN in the family have not touched them since.

Now the pom-poms...

This Is The Quiet Version

Never, in my entire life, have I met someone with as much personality as our Suz:

You know how some people just "light up a party?" Are the party?

THAT'S HER.

Speaking of parties, Happy Chinese New Year. It's the Year of the Ox. You might remember a clown or two in China TWO YEARS AGO during the Year of the Pig.

I guess the party spirit runs in the family.

Secret Breakfast Man

Campers was on a real "make breakfast for Mommy" kick for a couple of weeks. He'd make me some toast, complete with a load of butter and cinnamon sugar. Then he'd slice an apple (apple slicer, you safety people!), wash some grapes, or (barely) peel an orange.

After doing all that, his imagination kicked in and he started decorating bananas with Nerds, bubble gum, and jelly beans.

Oh! One time he made me freshly squeezed orange juice. One orange equals a tablespoonful of juice (in the cup), in case you wanted to know.

But even though the meals were a little "creative," in the name of Good Motherhood I ate every last bite.

Of all the breakfast menus, the candy-coated banana was the sweetest. But THIS was even sweeter:

No breakfast item could compete with that.

Christmas Cookies 2008

When the snow piled up, I caved in.

To cookies.

I let the kids help roll the dough and cut out a few shapes at first, but then oh!

I couldn't stand it anymore! The overhandling! The wasting! The utter and total ruining of MY COOKIES!

I'm not like that with all things, I promise.

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, PA.

So. I finally regained control of the ultra-delicate dough, much to my stressed-out delight.

Then I let the kids do what they do best:

Coat their bodies clothes cookies with super-saturated stain-leaving frosting:

And then weigh them down with sprinkles:

I think I heard our dentist shout a "hallooo!" after the kids made this one:

And there ends the Christmas cookies 2008.

I've got less than 12 months to gear up for the next batch.

Jell-O Christmas Cutouts

Speaking of annual traditions, I decided to skip the decorated sugar cookies this past Christmas and just do cutouts with Jell-O instead.

But then! Arctic Blast showed up and we ended up making the pesky high-maintenance cookies anyway. Cabin fever will do weird things to a person's sense of reason.

So this Jell-O. This all natural, straight from the source Jell-O.

You know, part of what makes these kinds of experiences so fun is all the "discussing" that is done over I Already Washed My Hands and Why Do I Always Have To Go Last and I Get The Best Cutter It Is Mine I Saw It First. That's always followed shortly by A Good Round Of Shoving and Crying Over The Broken Jell-O and His Piece Is Bigger Than Mine and Why Can't We Eat Another Piece Of Jell-O You Never Let Us Have Any Fun.

I have no doubt that all of my kids' memories will involve some level of trauma.

We've finally learned that we have to divide and conquer, and lay out 387 ground rules before the fun even begins. There's usually a coin toss involved, or when we're feeling lazy, a simple "pick a number between 1 and 10."

Stand back and admire our fiiiiiine parenting skills.

We also make sure to contain the Little Miss Bizzy in her chair:

We weren't born yesterday, people! We are ON TO THEM!

Speaking of acting childish, it had been so long since Pa and I had had finger Jell-O, but we both knew what to do upon taking our first bite.

Swishitbackandforthinourmouthsrealfast.

Real mature.

Here are a few of the Jell-O cutouts, before being mangled by the kids or the parents:

We'll just call these "Jell-O Cutouts 2008." I'm certain you'll be seeing something quite similar around Christmas '09.

Gingerbread House 2008

Let's just hop in our time machines and head back to December '08.

Yes, I'm behind.

Yes, you are going to be reading about Christmas stuff in the middle of January.

HO HO HO.


A wise parent* once told me that any holiday project done once becomes a holiday project done forever.

Being the idiot that I am, I had to learn that little lesson the hard way.

And so began the Second Annual Gingerbread House disaster tradition. A tradition which happily does not include me. One thing I have learned is that the best place for me to shoot off to while the troops build the house is the moon. It's quiet, it's tidy, and it's far, far away.

Let's take a look at the photographic evidence, provided by the Pa.

Earth Exhibit A: The Energy Level at 45698234%

Earth Exhibit B: The Easy Availability Of Massive Amounts Of Sugar

Earth Exhibit C: The Sitting On The Table And Making A 472 Square Foot Mess:

Earth Exhibit D: The Finished Product

The great thing about that gingerbread house is that it sat on my counter for a good four weeks. Four weeks! Of kids scamping! And begging! For a piece! To eat!

Fortunately, my good friends The Ant Family came around shortly before Christmas, and rendered the house inedible.

Oh taste and see that the Lord is good. Amen. And Amen.

Never fear, though. There will be another house next year. Tradition demands it. The kids will guarantee it. And I'll get my annual trip to the moon.

(If you're bored, you can check out the house from 2007. Don't say I didn't warn you.)


*Hi, Ruth!

Calendar Collage # 3

Pa made a calendar for himself this year, and this is one of the pages he included:

He actually wanted to have a calendar for his cloth-lined cubicle wall at work. You see, he has the unique advantage of leaving the house five full days a week, giving him the experience of "absence making the heart grow fonder."

Just sayin'.

The photos in that collage are all from 2008. This is the end of the series. Guess there are only three months in 2009. It will probably feel like that anyway.

Calendar Collage # 2

This is one of my favorite pages of the calendar.

We loved the Oregon coast. LOVED. IT.

(If you'd like to relive the experience, read most of the posts from September 2008.)

Too bad I didn't buy a copy of the calendar for myself. I suppose I figured, why would I want to look at a picture of my kids when I can see the real thing every. hour. of. every. day?

I'll take the calendar with the soothing images of nature, thankyouverymuch.

For the person who asked in the last post -- these collages were created in Picasa. Picasa is a super-easy program to use, but I'm telling you. That Pa has a few genes in his pool that the rest of us (namely: ME) don't have. I could spend 87 years fiddling around with a camera and photo-editing program and my efforts would still look like trash.

I just tell the Pa: "You take the pictures, I'll write the snark."

It's a match made in heaven.

Calendar Collage # 1

Each year we give the grandparents a photo calendar so they can stare at our faces all. year. long.

I don't know if that's a blessing or a curse, but they haven't scratched our names off the will yet.

Have they?

Anyhoo, this is one of the pages that Pa put together. I take no credit for any of the pictures. Or the collage. But I do take credit for the kids. However cute or weird they may be.

Why My Life Is Never Boring. Alternately Titled, Why My House Is Always Such A Mess.

I promise you, I DID NOT give my kids directions to dress up in the recyclable stuff.

But someone else did:

This was a few months back (catching up!), and the "show" happened right around the time the mailman stopped by our house. The kids ran out the door to show him their garb.

He did want to see the outfits, and even got excited about them, but I distinctly remember hearing the phrase, "Kids...your Mama is WEIRD."

Whatever.

Pa Junior

Campers took the digital camera (kid version) outside the other day on a "photo shoot."

Ohhhhh, glory.

You never realize you're reproducing yourself until you see pictures like this:

Did Pa's boy take pictures of people?

Noooo.

He took pictures of interesting things, and then went to the photo editing program and fixed up the shots. And told me I could put them on the blog if I wanted to.

I. Love. My. Son.

Reminds me of that phrase...so much of parenting is not was is taught, but what is caught.

Way to go, Pa. Way to go, Little Man.

A Walk Down Mommyhood Lane

I spent the day taking three kids to the pediatrician, all for a simple well-child check for our next adoption. If that wasn't exhausting enough (Hello! Three kids, a Ma, a nurse and a doctor all in a room the size of a chair!), we found out that all three kids needed to be caught up with their shots.

Ugh.

That went over like a lead balloon, especially since I had promised, sing-songedly, happy-faced promised the boys that There Would Be No Shots Just Some Basic Weighing And Measuring.

LIAR.

TRAITOR.

Sister Suz needed just one shot, but by the amount of howling, you'd think she'd received 820.

Cam got a needle in each arm, and it will take him about 376 years to trust me again.

Little Zig, SHOCK SHOCK SHOCK, needed FIVE vaccinations to catch up, and even though the thought horrified me, I didn't have the backbone to ask if those could be spread out a bit.

SELF-LOATHING ALERT.

And please don't add to my misery by telling me scary vaccination stories. I'm guilting myself well enough on my own.

It's a family trait, RIGHT MOM?

So the nurse brought out all the needles (EIGHT!) on a kid's plate, because we all know that a happy shiny plate helps the medicine go down.

Zig got three needles in his legs and one in each arm. I think I cried more than he did.

OH, MOTHERHOOD, YOU SLAY ME.

So.

On that note, we're just going to take a walk down memory lane and take a little look-see at some oldies but some goodies.

Firstly. WHO is this couple with all the hair, and who's that cute babe on the lap?

That was our Christmas card picture, circa 2001. Back in the day where we had time for such things. Back when we had just one child and he was not moving. And not talking. Not sleeping through the night, either, but Let's Not Bring That Up.

And because I Am The Queen Of All Things Rambling, I feel it necessary to say that Camper's head in that picture was taken from another shot. It always bugs me to look at that photoshopped image. But alas, PA.

Next.

If I could go back in time, THIS era would be top on the list:

I'm telling you. Every ("every!") family needs a Zig. A sweet, sweet soul at rest who says to me that he "loves me to the moon and back."

Every ("every!") family also needs a Campers, the first-born who is all things curious and responsible and always willing to Talk Like An Adult.

And as some friends were telling me the other day, one thing our family was missing was this:

The people-lovin' party queen.

That's Suz's referral picture.

It's like, WE SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT COMING.

So anyway.

Three kids, one Ma, and a whole lotta love. Even on the days when it looks like eight shots and a truckload of guilt.

Apple Tasting: Part 3

By this point in the apple tasting party, we were eating just to be eating.

Pa was right in the midst of his "sick faces," which were by no means an exaggeration. Of course the whole thing amused me to no end:

But eventually the apples came to an end (and a few pears began). Then by some clever marketing design, the path leading out of the tasting line led right to this:

Bins and bins of apples, a bin for every kind we tried.

Unfortunately, the bin of our favorite kind, the Elstar, looked like this:

Oh, gee. Looks like we weren't the only ones with good taste.

However, much to our delight, the path also led us to free popcorn, which was a much-needed medicinal aid after all those apples:



Suz took that opportunity to practice good manners:

A handful of popcorn a day scares the boyfriends away.

And to our friends who are locals...let me just say...this event was by far one of my favorites since we've moved here. Very well worth the time to go to. Just don't go at the same time as us next year. I don't want to have to wait in line any longer. (*wink*)

Apple Tasting: Part 2

I'd never been to an apple tasting before. Actually, I've never been to any kind of tasting event, unless you count "potlucks." However, I don't think I'd classify my potluck behavior as "tasting."

Gorging, maybe, but not tasting.

So.

We were all super excited about this little eatin' fest. Each kind of apple was cut up into bite-sized pieces, and the crowd just mooooooooooved its way down the line, stabbing the apples with toothpicks as they went.

And even though Suz couldn't see the table, you'd better believe she wasn't gonna miss out on any of the apple tasting action:

You know, until I'd tasted 60+ kinds of apples one right after another, I'd never thought that the flavors could be so varied. Of course, we had plenty of jokes to make about the exotic "Red Delicious," but really, most of the kinds we tried were new to us.

As Pa and I are wont to do, we entertained ourselves with a running commentary over Every. Single. Apple.

Hard to imagine, I know.

Once we got to roughly the 40th apple, we started to feel a little bit like this:

Our commentary quickly moved from "now wasn't that a delightfully sweet taste" and onto "I...can...barely...put another...apple...into...my mouth."

Even the kids were complaining of not feeling so well.

But by golly!

Those apples were free!

We were going to eat until we puked!

Or else!

So we kept going, clear until the end of the line. Truthfully, we have never craved a juicy cheeseburger more so than at that moment right there.

But as they say, an apple (or eight) a day turns the face a nice gray.

(One more apple post to come.)

Apple Tasting: Part 1

Okay. So it's not fall anymore.

So sue me.

And while you're at it, send me a personal assistant so I can sit around and type snarky blog posts all day long.

Excellent.

Moving on.

So we went to this apple tasting festival last fall (shhhhthreee months ago):


First thing we saw was an apple press, cranking out some fresh (free!) cider:



And because it was a day that wasn't raining, we quickly joined the hordes-a-waiting in line:



Zig made good use of his wait time by climbing on the "not for climbing" area of the pumpkin patch:


(You may recognize that picture from ahem, last fall.)

But then!

We made it to the start of the tasting line:


There were roughly 60 varieties of apples (and a few pears) to taste. All free! All for the taking! It was beyond exciting.

More pictures to come.

Keepin' It Weird

Our city recently (two months back, AHEM) had a big "Keep Portland Weird" festival. If there's one thing that will draw the Ma and Pa Clan out of the house, it's a festival involving the word "weird."

Amen.

The main draw for us was an hour-long interactive program where the kids got to try out all sorts of circus-type skills.

Spinning plates:

Balancing on a board:

Strangling themselves:

And the ever-unpopular, stilts:

I tried my hand ("feet") at walking on the stilts as well. This picture was taken one nanosecond after I started and two nanoseconds before I fell:


Once we had totally exhausted ourselves with tossing and turning, we moseyed around and found a whole group of people singing in four-part harmony. Nice! It was so nice! It was the type of thing where the audience members were encouraged to sing along, so I made the Pa grab a song book for me to join in.

And I'm telling you. I don't care HOW MANY TIMES Mr. Music Major himself tried to explain shape note singing to me, I still didn't get it. I still don't!

So anyway.

It was weird. But we loved it.

Naturally.

Christmas Day: Part 8

I'll let you take a guess at which family member these shirts came from:

We are going to be One Hot-Looking Family in our Pittsburgh Steeler attire!

It might even make us look "hip" and "cool" and "athletic" and "interested in professional sports."

Of course, once we open our mouths, that gig will be up.

Because, ummmm, who's Polamalu?

Do these shirts come with an instruction book?

WE CAN'T HELP IT WE'RE GEEKS.

Well-dressed geeks, but geeks nonetheless.