A Piece of Cake.

In my family, I don't need to bake birthday cakes. We have Auntie Sarah.

There was once when I decided that I wanted to do it myself. I can't remember if Sarah was travelling or just humouring me. In any event, it was Sheldon's 6th birthday and the theme was Lego. So I baked him a slab cake with upside down cupcakes on top and then I iced it all in 'lego blue'. I thought it was a masterpiece. He thought it was a castle.

Crushed, I decided that I would never bake another cake. Ever.

But then Sarah went to Cambodia and left me with the task of cakes. Shamelessly, I've relied on the grocery store to add the kid's names to their cakes because the idea of actually baking scares me.

Lately I've been reflecting on the great parties that I used to throw for Sheldon's birthdays - big themes from beginning to end with every last detail covered. Poor Juliana. By her birthday in November it is too close to Christmas and I am just too darned tired to throw much of a party. She loses every year.

So when she asked if she could have an end of school party this year I figured, why not? And then we started planning.

I made fruit balls in a watermelon bowl, added granola bars, and called it an after school snack. She wanted to play soccer so we did. There was a dance party in the basement and then we all sat down and shared our thoughts about the last day of school and our plans for the summer. We had hot dogs and more junk food for dinner. We wrote our secrets on balloons and then released them to the skies. We had a pinata. (That's a whole story on it's own. Suffice it to say that they had a great time whacking the crap out of it for 45 minutes but my candy selection was left in a candy dust by the time it was set free. Oops.)

But most exciting to me: we had cake.

I was inspired by a fellow blogger's cake and decided to revisit the whole cake-baking thing.

Truthfully, when I showed the pictures of her cake to a very dear friend and told her that I was thinking of making one she said "um......yeah....you could make that cake...." (In her defence - in the 16 years that I've known her I've never made anything that has instructions that fill more than one side of a recipe card.) When I showed Peter the picture and asked him how hard he thought it would be, he replied ".....for...you?"

Huh. I'll take that challenge.

So, with my mother by my side (typically I get frustrated, start to cry, and she finishes my tasks) I gathered all the gear I needed and got down to business.


I think that Sarah would be proud. I had a couple of little icing glitchs but, all told, it was a smashing success. I wish that I could have captured the kids faces when I sliced into my multi-layer goodness. But I can share a couple of sound bytes:

"Wow. You could make professional cakes!"

"You're lucky Juliana!"

"You could be on Cake Boss!"

And my personal favourite: "You should be in the Cake Olympics!"

All in all, I've enjoyed my dabble in cake-world. I might even try it again sometime, but really, this is Auntie Sarah's job. And she can have it back anytime she'd like.

Just another day.

It started with a quiet train ride into the City.

A visit with a co-worker at her new office.

Peanut butter sandwiches for lunch because we need groceries.

A trip to the drug store for meds because I had a stinkin' sinus headache.

An earthquake and subsequent building evacuation.

Arrival home to a clean, lemony scented house after our newly-retired cleaning lady's last visit.

Kids choice for dinner. (Yes. Mac and cheese).

Phone call from a friend to remind me about yoga. (Yup. I had forgotten.)

Sunset yoga in a beautiful wind.

Talked to Peter who is in LA trying to catch a glimpse of Lindsay Lohan's SCRAM bracelet.

And now, sleep.

Snack time.

It must be the last week of school because Peter went to pick up a couple of groceries, including some stuff for the kids lunches this week, and he came home with these.

We last had Wagon Wheels years ago when they arrived in a basket I had won in a contest that I had no recollection entering. I remember the kids having a ton of fun eating all the snack stuff that I usually refuse to buy for them......

But today's their lucky day. Peter must be starting to feel the pressure of coming up with new, inventive snacks that the kids will eat. He didn't even have nagging kids with him and he still managed to come home with these.

I guess this is the turning point. Our defences are down. I can only imagine what we give in to for the rest of the week.

Personally, I'll do just about anything for ice cream....

All about dads.

It was all the way back in 1983 when I first noticed the funny guy wearing a green army jacket. He made everyone laugh, he played guitar in the Student Council Office, played drums in the school band and he had hair that even a (my) mother could love.

He spent most of our high school days throwing me in garbage cans or pinching the back of my neck trying to make me swear. It probably would have been easier if he'd just asked me out. But he didn't.

Things can change though.

1983 to 2010: walk home, apartment, cat, wedding, dog, house, son, new house, daughter, two cats, new dog and lots of vacations in between.

I can't imagine it turning out any other way. He's given me the greatest joys just being by my side raising our family together. I've watched him when he didn't know it - the times that he's playing basketball with Sheldon or when he's fallen asleep cuddled with Juliana and he has a little fairy glitter on his cheek. The quiet moments around the campfires or the sing alongs in the living room. But mostly the laughter. In 27 years that hasn't changed.

Thanks for being such a great dad. The biggest cheerleader that our kids could ever ask for. And thanks for doing it all with me.


Today also makes me stop to think about my own dad. He's been gone a long time now and the empty spot in my heart will never go away. I imagine giving him his Father's Day hug, maybe sharing a Father's Day pie and seeing him grin in my direction.

But I've been very fortunate. I was blessed with a father-in-law that has made me feel like I was part of his family from the very beginning. I feel his pride and I know, without a doubt, how much he loves me. I'm so grateful for his support and I just love him to bits.


I couldn't talk about Father's Day without mentioning all the fathers in my life.

Happy Fathers Day to mine and yours. The world is a better place because of them.

My hero.

When I look back on my childhood, one of the most special gifts that my parents could ever give me was knowing that, no matter what my age, the bedroom space that they created for me was just that. It was created for me. Over the years our bedrooms reflected the very personalities that slept inside them.

As I became a teenager, my mother helped me with my most favourite bedroom. It was a tiny room, downstairs, away from all the others. And in those days, I was crazy about Peanuts. Such great personalities leaping off the pages and Snoopy and Woodstock were my absolute faves. So my mom found a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock sitting in a nest up in a tree. She enlarged it, traced it on my wall, and then hand painted the mural. (All these years later and, sadly, I'm not even sure there is a picture of it anywhere.....) I lived in my Snoopy room for many years and, even now, I still have one small Snoopy beanie animal living in Juliana's room.

Flash forward many, many years.

Today we spent the day at Wonderland. The kids park is now all Snoopy themed - there's a red baron airplane ride, a pumpkin patch ride, a statue of Snoopy himself and tons of Snoopy themed merchandise in the stores. I managed to avoid the stores (although the cartoon covered hoodie was calling my name....LOUDLY....) and didn't buy a thing. I didn't have to. Because walking around in the general population was Snoopy himself. He must have been hot in that afternoon sun but he was out pleasing his people.

I'm almost a little embarrassed at how quickly I squealed and said to Peter "here take the camera....I have to get a picture of me with him!" I know that he was just some guy in a dog suit. I know that it's his job not to speak. I know that we're in the kiddie park at Wonderland and I am well past the kiddie age. But I can't explain how excited I was for the moment. It was like he was a celebrity...... I worked very hard to keep calm, but, damn it, I was giddy. Transported back to many, many years ago in my little blue room with Snoopy on the wall.

Thank you Snoopy - for making a girl's day.

Coming clean.

My cleaning lady quit.

I came home yesterday to find a beautifully clean, lemony fresh home. And a handwritten card to tell me that she's hanging up her mop. She'll be back once more in June and then we're on our own.

After I read the card, I poured a glass of wine to sit down and figure out what to do. The wine was good but really didn't solve the situation. I wondered if there was a chance that she was just saying that she was moving on because she didn't want to hurt our feelings. After all, we still haven't finished the 'moving the crap back down to the basement' phase of our reno because we just haven't had the time. (And, yes, possibly because, even though we've been plugging away at it, the bottom line is that we have too much of said crap.)

So now the search is on for a new cleaning lady. And we've got to find one soon. This morning, over coffee, Peter was giving the dog a scratch and I found myself asking him to stop. No more petting the dog until we get a new cleaning lady, I said, because every time you touch her I see 60 hair falling to the floor. I've even contemplated moving my family out so that I don't have to clean.

This morning I ran into a friend who shares the same now-retired cleaning lady that I do. She confirmed that she too got a card. Phew, I thought to myself. So it's not just our Hoarder's Haven that she is trying to avoid.... That thought alone was my good little thing for today.

Real Love.

It's been a day.

I've been in a mood.

I've been short with the kids and had little patience for life in general.

And tonight after I said goodnight to the kids and put on yet another load of laundry, I came up to the kitchen and there was my honey all set to play.

Bananagrams.

Boy, does he know how to make me feel better. Despite all my crankiness he still makes me feel loved.

He's a keeper.

The Wooden Spoon

When we were little and in trouble.....big trouble.....there was one sound that always made us stop, stand up tall and shut the heck up.

It was the sound of the kitchen drawer being pulled open by one of our parents. The dreaded drawer that housed The Wooden Spoon. I don't think that the spoon was ever actually used on any of us but, oh boy, just the threat of it scared the crap out of me.

These days, if I were angry enough to whip open the wooden spoon drawer, my kids would stop whining/stomping around/yelling long enough to ask if I was making a snack that required the spoon. Oh, that's right kids. I'll bake you something special. How about Cranky Cake? Moody Muffins? Maybe Cookies for Crybabies? Or I'm-gonna-sell-you-to-the-gypsies-pudding....

I have been told (recently and often) that I am the Strictest Mother Ever. That same child told me that I treat him like a baby. (Oops, did I just give away which child it was??) Can you believe how over protective I am? He actually has to phone me to let me know where he is when he's out hanging with his friends. A couple of weeks ago, after a relentless interrogation about why I make him call home, I finally snapped. I was done talking. I was done listening. And I was done with his attitude. So I sent him to his room.

Halfway up the stairs, he stopped, leaned over the bannister and said, with some serious tone, "Oh, when I get to my room do you want me to call you so that you know I'm safe?"

Argh. How times have changed.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got some baking to do.

I wonder what font Maggie would be?

I came across this when trolling the web this morning and it made me laugh.......

[I found this at: The Pink Orange]

Quiet.

Picture this.

I'm sitting on my train, quietly reading, waiting to head towards home.

The door between the coaches opens and Noisy-Know-It-All, who loves to talk (and does for the entire 50 minutes she's on the train), walks through.

I hold my breath.

She doesn't have a purse which I take as a good sign that she's not staying. She shrugs, turns, and returns from whence she came. I guess she's looking for her chatterbox friends.

Thirty seconds later, the door opens again and a woman I've never seen before walks through and approaches my seat.

Lovely woman: "Do you mind if I sneak in here?"

Me: "Not at all."

She sits for a moment, and then:

LW: "Aaahh. It's so quiet here. I've had to move 3 times today. I really just want to sit and read my paper."

(I think she's my new train BFF.)

I smile. The woman beside me (another familiar, silent, traveller) smiles.

I guess Noisy-Know-It-All found her friends.

And we found peace.