The Fairest Piñata of All

There are moments when I have a good idea. Lately these are few and far between, so when they happen I have extra appreciation (with a little added self-fanfare for effect).

My recent good idea came in the aftermath of my five-year-old's birthday party.  Since I was running with the party-planning momentum, I planned out the upcoming double third birthday party I'd be having in a few months. One of the big hits from my five-year-old's birthday was a piñata. I opted for the string-pull piñata instead of the whack-a-mole version and it was a hit.

While still reeling from the high following the five-year-old's party I found myself looking at DIY piñatas for the next party.  Thankfully Pinterest saved the day and scrolled this across my screen:  a punch box!

I liked the string piñata, but I had two minor issues with it. One was that I had to basically pull and shake out all of the goodies inside as the hole opening just wasn't doing it. And two, was that inevitably some of the smaller kids didn't get much.  So I found myself going around and pilfering from one five-year-old to give to a three-year-old and such. With the idea of a punch box, however, they would all get the exact same thing. The fairness fairy in me was delighted.

I had everything I needed, large cardboard box, some cups, and tissue paper. But of course, I couldn't just do it that way, I needed to make things a little more difficult. I decided to fill the cups with chocolate coins, little cars, and blinking rings (to go with our princesses and cars theme). And in order to assure that everyone got the exact same things, I decided to color code it.

In addition to my three kids, we were inviting seven friends. This meant 10 kids with each kid having their own individual color. Then each kid would have 3 cups to punch, which meant I needed 30 cups and 10 different colors of tissue paper. No problem.

Step one was deciding the layout with the cups.

Then tracing the cups so the holes could be cut out. I needed to make sure that the holes were slightly smaller than the cup openings, but not too small. Had to make sure that little hands could still get in there.

Next was wrapping time. Depending on what box you use, you could either paint it, wrap it, or just leave it as is. I opted to wrap it in paper.  Which also meant that I needed to cut out the holes again as well. *sigh*

Next I needed to get my tissue paper, cut out three squares of each color, and then randomly tape them down.

Finally it was time to fill the cups.  I made sure there were 10 cups with chocolate coins, 10 cups with racing cars, and 10 cups with flashing rings.

Then I proceeded to flip them over and tape them down. It was a great way to use up a lot of miscellaneous tape we had lying around.

Finally, because I wanted to make sure the cups didn't fall off once the box was upright, I layered the back of the box with bubble wrap to put some pressure on the cups and keep them stable. Then seal it all in!

Looks rather simple when you write it out. However, the fact that I had to do it in tiny stages and it therefore took me several weeks to complete isn't surprising.  Hopefully others will be more efficient and less interrupted.

All in all, it was a huge hit at the birthday party (and with my inner fairness fairy) and I would definitely recommend it.

The Exceptional Husband

My husband is exceptional. He’s not exceptional because he comes home most nights and helps put the kids to bed.

He’s not exceptional because he does everything from wiping noses to butts and everything in between.

He’s not exceptional because he can comb out tangles without a tear.

He’s not exceptional because he knows the right dress can make a toddler happy; and the wrong dress can make everyone unhappy.

He’s not exceptional because he can turn eating hummus sandwiches into a song.

He’s not exceptional because he can play hide and go seek with toddlers who don’t understand the rules.

He’s not exceptional because he will take a day off from work to help with the kids when I’m too sick.

He’s not exceptional because he figured out how to make mac-and-cheese on his own in the Instant Pot.

He’s not exceptional because he will grab a random two-year-old for an errand and bring them home covered in chocolate.

He’s not exceptional because he gets the kids to eat beans and spinach by offering to feel their muscles with great fanfare.

He’s not exceptional because he decorates cookies like a four-year-old.

He’s not exceptional because he encourages me to go to a random book club or moms night out.

He’s not exceptional because he will play tea party (even though he orders cappuccinos).

He’s not exceptional because he exposes the kids to multiple languages believing that two-year-olds can handle it.

He’s not exceptional because he will play “hop on pop” to the children’s great delight.

He’s not exceptional because he will initiate bath time times three.

He’s not exceptional because he changes the words to “Row Row” every time causing great giggles in everyone.

He’s not exceptional because he will take the four-year-old out to the grocery store at night and stop for ice cream on the way home.

He’s not exceptional because he’s willing to learn the different princess names… sort of.

He’s not exceptional because he wants the floors and walls covered in pillows to prevent ouchies.

He’s not exceptional because he put together three identical balance bikes before Christmas.

He’s not exceptional because he packs school lunches with salad greens.

He’s not exceptional because he has instilled the desire to brush teeth every night in order to show off one’s “movie star teeth.”

He’s not exceptional because he makes phonics a pure joy for our four-year-old.

He’s not exceptional because he lets me exercise as soon as two out of the three kids are in bed.

He’s not exceptional because he knows all the words to “Baa Baa Black Sheep,” “Campfire’s Burning,” and “Kookaburra” (if not the tunes).

He’s not exceptional because he validates the difficulty of parenting when he asks me, “How do you do this every day!?” after spending two days with the kids.

He’s not even exceptional because he still suggests I go away for two nights to a hotel to relax and write.

None of these make him exceptional; they make him a dad. (A great dad, but still just a dad.)

He’s an exceptional husband because he supports me in my endeavor to re-find myself. And I truly feel he believes in me. This makes him beyond exceptional and something to be grateful for every day.

58 Steps to Make “Quick” Santa Cookies

No school. Gotta fill the days. Let’s make cookies!

Step 1: Find “quick, easy, no-fridge, sugar cookie” recipe on Pinterest.

2. Pull out bowls.

3. Suddenly remember we don’t have any aquafaba (chickpea juice) left over after hubby accidentally broke the glass jar last weekend.

4. Pull out can of chickpeas. Spend 3 minutes unwrapping four cans I bought on sale that were sealed together with packing tape.

5. Open can, drain liquid, put chickpeas into pyrex bowl; spend 2 minutes finding compatible lid.

6. Go retrieve small table from playroom and tell kids we’re going to make cookies. (Big mistake.)

7. Tell kids to go away until I’m ready. Repeatedly asked by 4yo, “What’s prepping mean?”

8. Spend 4 minutes looking for kids’ aprons.

9. Remember I hadn’t fed kitten yet; find kitten food.

10. Spend 6 minutes keeping big cats away while kitten eats crunchies.

11. Pull out kitchen scale, get butter.

12. Google how much 1C butter weighs in ounces (8oz, duh).

13. Weigh block of butter; only 5.64 ounces.

14. Get more butter from fridge, start slicing off frozen chunks until read 8.01 ounces. Done!

15. Melt butter slightly in microwave; 33 seconds.

16. Add sugar to bowl with butter.

17. Find beaters for hand mixer.

18. Spend 2 minutes searching for hand mixer.

19. Beat butter and sugar.

20. Add aquafaba and vanilla. Beat more.

21. Find second bowl I’d lost on counter; add flour, baking powder, mix quickly.

22. Tell 4yo I’m almost done “prepping.”

23. Combine dry ingredients with wet, beat quickly.

24. Succumb to three munchkins invading kitchen. Gather three aprons, assure 4yo that she’s wearing “hers”.

25. Dig out box of cookie cutters. Let munchkins pick out “a few” (or twenty).

26. Have nanny help “flour” the small table.

27. While nanny rolls out dough, I gather camera to document this wondrous event.

28. Let everyone randomly use cookie cutters; randomness cannot be overstated.

29. Allow munchkins to have their first taste of raw cookie dough. It’s a hit!

30. Tell them to stop eating the raw cookie dough; repeat.

31. Tell 2yo to stop hitting his sisters with the spatula.

32. Shoo kitten away from the table.

33. Allow each munchkin to “use” the rolling pin; watch for sudden movements.

34. Just a mere 33 minutes later, cookies are on trays ready to go into oven.

35. Preheat oven.

36. Wait 6 minutes; clean up the flour-bomb residue.

37. Oven beeps, put cookies in. Assure munchkins they can decorate (and eat) later today.

38. 17 minutes later, hot cookies are cooling.

39. 30 minutes later, return to kitchen to prep icing.

40. Use a bag and a half of powdered sugar and more aquafaba; stir, stir, stir.

41. Add in splash of vanilla; repeat stirring.

42. Dig out 8-year-old colored sugar and 1-year-old sprinkles and food coloring.

43. Separate out icing into three bowls; create pale green, pale red (i.e., pink), and white.

44. Note need more (and newer) food coloring.

45. Put red sugar, green sugar, Christmas sprinkles, and M&Ms into individual bowls and put on small table.

46. Retrieve aprons and call in the munchkins; get them prepped.

47. Quickly ice cookies randomly and pass off to the table.

48. Let candy-coated chaos ensue.

49. Turn around to see 2yo piling 15 M&Ms on an “ornament” cookie.

50. Find 4yo pouring a mound of red sugar on a “candy cane” cookie.

51. Find other 2yo eating as many M&Ms as he can.

52. Wrap up the sugar-sprinkle-bomb melee with final three cookies.

53. Reassure munchkins that after naptime we will pick out cookies to save for Santa, and then we can all try our sweet creations.

54. Spend 5 minutes pre-picking our favorite cookie to try later; pick them again.

55. Insist this is that last time we pick our favorite.

56. Spend 10 minutes putting all decorating paraphernalia back.

57. Thank nanny profusely for her patience and help.

58. Vow to do this again; in a year.

Warning: Sexy Content Ahead

This past Valentine's Day marked our 11th since my husband and I have been together.  While we don't typically go all out, we have done the flowers, chocolates, and dinner thing with fair regularity.  Even after our first child arrived, we still marked the day with some accepted form of acknowledgement.  However, I think things started to go south last year, when my husband, who can't tell a lie to save his life (or marriage), admitted to me that the chocolates he gave me were actually from a friend in the office who bought extra boxes for his wife and daughters.  And since my husband forgot entirely, his friend took pity on him and gave him a box.

So, fearing my husband's friend was going to have to bail him out again this year, I jumped in a few days before the big day and said, "No chocolates or flowers this year, okay?  Let's just go out to dinner or see a movie."  No surprise, my husband agreed.

We were all ready to get a babysitter and grab a movie, but unfortunately we couldn't find anything we were remotely interested in seeing.  So, we planned for just a nice dinner.  But after thinking about it, I said, "You have the day off because of President's Day, so let's go out to lunch instead."  And then I added, "And what I really want to do... is have lunch, and then take an hour to do whatever we want."  My husband's eyebrows did a crazy move, so I quickly added, "... like I can write without kids screaming all around me and you can read the news."  You might think my husband would have been disappointed, but he practically whooped with excitement. Yup, we're a wild bunch.

The big day arrived and my first Valentine's Day gift was my husband offering to take Bean to nursery school so I could take a shower.  But before that, he said, "Can you help me remove the babies' car seats, so I can get the car vacuumed after I drop Bean off?"  (Ooooh, vacuuming the car!  Two gifts and it's barely 8:45!)  Despite my glee at the prospect of getting the car de-crackered, I gave him the face that said, "I'm in a t-shirt, Tigger pajama pants, and pink crocs... And you want me to go outside?!?"  Knowing that face well, his response was, "You look awesome, you smell awesome."  Yeah, romance abounds.  So I threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed my sunglasses and helped him unload the car.

With a nice big pile or car seats, double stroller and misc bits on our front lawn, hubby and Bean headed off to school while I headed for the shower.  Following my lather-rinse-repeat routine, I emerged to find a text from my husband, "They're charging me 4JD for vacuuming.  You must get the 'look awesome, smell awesome' 2JD price."  Awww, a love note, too?  Such a sweetie.

While I was waiting for him to return from being gouged at the gas station, the nanny and I took the babies out for their daily "walkies" around the block.  Just as we were returning to the garden, hubby arrived.  While the babies played in the garden, we re-installed all the car seats and piled all the crap back in the trunk.

Now it was finally time for our date!  To add to the excitement, we opted to walk the mile to the restaurant since it was such a gorgeous day.  So we packed up our iPads, Kindles, phones, reading glasses, and whatever else you need for a sexy Valentine's Day date, and headed out.

At the restaurant, hubby asked, "Are we eating first, or playing first?"  I suggested we eat first.  After finishing our meal, and once there was a lull in the conversation, my husband said haltingly, "So, when does the gadget part of the date begin?"  To which, I replied, "As soon as we can get them to clean the table."  Amazing how the lure of electronic do-dads can make him find a helpful waiter.

Table cleaned, bill paid, iPad out and ready for kid-free writing time, and husband already muttering Spanish verbs to himself as he read "Master Spanish Through Reading" on his Kindle.  At the end of our Valentine's-Day-gadget hour, we packed up our gear and walked home in the sunshine, making sure to take the long way.

Yeah, maybe it falls slightly short of being a bodice-ripper tale, but it was one of the best Valentine's Days we've ever had.  And besides, I look awesome and smell awesome, and I get a discount on car vacuuming, what else could a girl want?

Drat, the Clever Toddler

Lately, I’m finding my toddler’s constant chatterings to be completely distracting. I used to be able to just tune her out, keeping one ear perked for anything of significance or imminent danger. But either I’ve lost that skill, much as I’ve lost the ability to complete a sentence when speaking to an adult, or something else has changed. I was determined to figure it out so I devised a “toddler talk” experiment. During a recent lunch with my three-and-a-half-year-old, I took notes of our “conversation,” interspersed with eating, chewing and drinking. Six minutes in, I had my answer. See transcript below:

Mom, is Rocket [baby brother] going to walk with me again? I was holding his hand. Mom, what is this color? Green or yellow? (It’s blue.) Chipmunks! (Chipmunks?) Yeah! Chip and Dale! Mom, can I have some more orange? (Later.) Mom, can I have a vitamin? (You already had one at breakfast.) I want another one. (Later.) Is this for the babies? (No, they’re yours.) Mom, why do you have my bow in your hair? No babies are here right now. (I remove bow.) I want to go to Lana’s house. Are we going to Lana’s house right now, Mom? (No.) What are we going to do? (We need to mail some cards.) Who are they for? (Aunt Allison and Aunt Robin.) Aunt Allison and Aunt Robin? Aunt Allison and Aunt Robin, I said, Mom? (Yes.) Okay. Mom, what else, Mom? Me want to go to the playground. (We can’t, it’s wet.) Why is it wet, Mom? (It’s raining.) Can I have some figs? I like figs. Can I eat all the figs, Mom? (No, you can have one.) Then I eat all of them. What is this? (It’s part of the fig.) We eat this, Mom? (Yes.) I will eat this, then this. Pull my sleeves up. Like this. Mommy, look at this! [Eats fig] I want some soy milk, Mom. Can I have some more figs? (No.) I need some on my sandwich. Mom, my sandwich is falling apart [takes it apart]. I like this. I’m going to do this [continues dismantling sandwich]. Look at this, Mommy! [Takes a bite.] I’m full now! It’s a little bit sour. The cheese is getting a little outside, like the airplane. You see, Mom? Like an airplane. (Speechless) Mom, can I pet Saif-o’s kitties? He has two kitties. Can I pet them, Mom? (Did he bring them to school?) Yes. No. Can I pet them? Mommy, look down here! A dinosaur! (A dinosaur?) No, up here! Water please. [Fills cup] I have a lot, Mom. See, Mom? Now I have to go pee pee. I drink all the water. My tummy’s full. I need to go wash my hands. I have to pee pee, too, Mom.

Apparently, with careful observation, she figured out that to break through the tune-out-toddler shield all she needed was a deluge of “Mom” drops. Drat, the clever toddler wins again!  Must devise new shield (with option for triple strength).