ZOMG SPROUT ALERT!

Do you remember the wee little tree kit I bought in the Target dollar section? It was really fun to buy it and set it up and plant the seeds, but I assumed it would come to nothing but disappointment: I’ve planted evergreen seeds twice before, and both times they’ve done nothing but add their wee quantity of nitrogen to the soil.

But this time! LOOK!

Not just one sprout, but TWO! The first sprout to come up is in the center, and then the other sprout is that teeny bit of white at 11:00. AAAAAA!!!! Spruce trees! Baby spruce trees!

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On an unrelated topic, I’m supposed to be working on my wish list for Christmas. (My family shops early.) What should I put on it? What have you bought or been given lately that’s provided great satisfaction? (Like my spruce sprouts!)

List of Happy

Kara‘s gratitude blogging has been rubbing off on me: reading her list every day gets me in the habit of thinking what things I’d put on my own lists, if I were making daily lists. I will make just ONE little list:

1. a child who went back to sleep in his crib after falling asleep in the car

2. clouds that look like things

3. postage stamp choices

4. pregnant friends

5. newborn-sized clothes, in pink/purple/butterflies/flowers

6. graham crackers and goldfish crackers

7. clean towels that don’t have any lingering mildew smell

8. Lindt chocolate on clearance

9. finding a new source for postcards

10. still being friends even when we disagree—mwah!

 

Do you want to play, too? Add to the list in the comment section!

Childhood Bedroom

I just finished watching the movie P.S., which by the way has me thinking about Topher Grace in a WHOLE NEW WAY, since my previous acquaintanceship with him was limited to That ’70s Show, where he was…well, ’70s clothes and hair can take ANY guy and kick him squarely out of the Romantic Lead Zone.

Where was I? Oh, yes! So I was watching P.S., and there’s a scene where the 39-year-old main character goes back to her childhood bedroom to retrieve some old stuff. And the room is, like, just exactly as she left it. Her high-school clothes still hanging in the closet! Her shoes still on the floor! Her posters still on her wall! Her stuff still messy on her desk! Her boxes of memorabilia still stacked precariously on closet shelves!

My old childhood bedroom is at the other end of the spectrum: when I went to college, I cleared it out as if my parents were going to be leasing it to a new tenant. I left behind two large boxes of things I didn’t want to get rid of but couldn’t really bring to college, either, such as books and my prom dress (did I think I was going to need that again some day? I tossed it out a few years later). Those, I put in the closet. Everything else was GONE. CLEARED OUT. Walls bare. Desk drawers empty. I MOVED OUT at that point, or that’s the way I saw it. I still came back for Christmases and a couple of summers, and I liked to stay in my old room when I did, but it wasn’t really my room.

My parents apparently got some flack about this from their friends, which was unfair because I don’t remember it being THEIR idea that I strip the room like that. I remember just assuming that that’s what the next step was, and doing it, and then showing it to my parents after it was done: here’s the heap I’m taking to college, here’s the suitcase for the drive to get there, here are the boxes I’ve shoved way back in the closet, and here are the trash bags full of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers that were under the bed.

Now, in my mid-thirties, my room has been not-my-room for so long, I kind of forget it ever WAS my room. Right now it’s a playroom, with toys in it for when my kids play over there. I don’t think of it as My Old Room, I think of it as The Playroom. It’s a different color (yellow instead of white-with-magazine-pages) and the floor is different (hardwood and throw rugs instead of the schoolroom tile I was supposed to mop and rarely did). The only lingering trace of my old room is the rainbow glitter hairspray I unwisely sprayed on a corner of my closet door.

Chocolate-Mint Brownies: A New Twist

Do you want to DIE HAPPY? I’ll just fill in your line of dialogue for you: “Yes, as long as you mean the happiness literally but the death figuratively.” Okay, I accept your terms!

First, make up a batch of my favorite brownies, which is a recipe I altered from the back of the box of Baker’s Unsweetened Chocolate:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9×13-inch baking pan.

In a largeish saucepan (I think the one I use is 3 quarts), melt 1 and 1/2 sticks (3/4ths cup) butter and 5 squares (5 ounces, which is 140 grams) unsweetened chocolate. When melted, remove from heat. Then add 2 cups of sugar, 3 eggs, 1 cup of flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon of peppermint extract (not mint extract: it has to be peppermint). Mix it all up and put it into the pan and the pan into the oven. Bake for 30 minutes.

As soon as you remove them from the oven, pour a whole bag of mint chocolate chips over the top as evenly as you can.

Like so.

I used Andes Baking Chips, but I’ve also used Hershey’s mint chocolate chips (which are only available nearer the holidays in my area). Let them sit there a few minutes while you go cycle laundry or something, and when you come back, cut the brownies: they’re really too hot for this (oven mitts!), but this will keep the top coating from breaking as much as it would if you tried to cut them after it cooled. Cutting them will also leave pretty swirls in the mixed brown and green of the melted Andes chips.

Let them cool—and it will be agonizing, because it will take SO LONG for the melted chocolate to de-melt. I finally put them in the refrigerator because I couldn’t stand it any longer. But it was worth it, because I ended up with these brownies that had a pretty, swirly, chocolate-mint COATING—like an ice-cream bar. Mmmmmmmmm.

Middle Finger Warning

I am not sure how offensive a middle finger is. Like, is it an “adult content, not safe for work, don’t click if you’d be offended”-level thing? Or is it like saying, “That sucks!” or “I’m pissed!” or “Screw that!” where our parents wince but the rest of us forget that anyone winces? Well, just in case, I’ll give you the heads-up that this post is on that subject and may contain images.

I am intrigued by this guy’s idea. He says that if you’re married and you’re pissed off about Proposition 8 (which bans gay marriage in California), you should switch your wedding ring to your middle finger and take a photo of it.

I tried taking a photo like his, and I looked like a HUGE IDIOT. If you clicked through, you’ll have seen that he looks pretty awesome: he looks cool and friendly but definitely he’s got a strong stance, and he looks like he feels comfortable using his middle finger to express that stance, and also his wedding ring is really cool.

But when I tried it, I managed to give the impression that I was NOT giving the finger but in fact just happened to have my middle finger separate from the others, and also like I didn’t realize I was wearing my wedding ring on the wrong finger and too high up. Also, I LOOKED the way older people SOUND when they try to use teenaged slang words.

And since I was trying to take a photo of MYSELF, in some versions I missed my hand entirely. In others, my hand was blocking my face. But in ALL of them, I looked like an aging mother who was trying to be all gangsta or something. And also, I looked like I was pointing at something, perhaps at the last wisps of my evaporating youth and coolness. Pitiful.

PLUS, I was painfully aware of how displeased my parents (who read this blog) would be to see their daughter giving the finger, and also I’m wary of cheesing off the friends and family who would take the opposite stance on this issue. In general, I don’t want to go around telling you what to think/do (unless it’s about COOL BABY CLOTHES you should DEFINITELY BUY), because I think everybody should think/do their own thing and not screw around with what other people think/do. But in this case, what’s happening IS that people are telling other people what to think/do, and THAT’S what I’m objecting to.

So, hey, Prop 8! Yoo hoo! Over here!

P.S. If you do this, too, be sure to go over to Diary of a Modern Matriarch and add your name and link to her list.

Edit: I want to say for the record that I realize the way I expressed my feelings on this subject was highly disrespectful. I would be just as disrespectful about a decision to, for example, ban black citizens from voting in elections, or invalidate heterosexual marriages, or make it illegal to worship God.

Cute Shirt Alert

Yesterday the kids spent about six hours playing with an office chair and three empty rolls of tape. What’s next, playing with the box the toy came in? Sometimes I think children have turned my life into an embarrassing cliche.

Look at this cute shirt I bought:

 

Rob saw it and said scornfully, “It looks like a SPORTS shirt.” But do you see what it says? “Junior Scientists of America.” And those are, like, atoms zooming around the A. Hee! I bought it in 12-18m (or did I get 18-24m?) (like it matters) for Henry and in 4T for Edward.

 

I’m a little peeved, though, to see they are now $3.99, since that was what I paid for them AFTER a 15% off coupon, and I was feeling all triumphant about it. I’ve noticed with Old Navy that either there is a 15%/20%-off coupon, OR everything is 15-20% off. Well-played, Old Navy. Well-played. Now perhaps I will also have to buy the grey “mathletes” version:

“Cuter than the sum of our parts,” it says.

Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Muffins

This morning William said, “I saw a band-AID in the trash.” And I went, “Mm.” And he said, “I said ‘AID’ like that because of my spelling words”—which are all words with AI in them. So I praised him for being smart, and then told him his shirt was on backwards.

You definitely want to come over: I baked pumpkin chocolate-chip muffins, and I’ve got a pot of coffee brewed.

Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Muffins
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, melted
1 cup canned pumpkin
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 and 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 12 muffin cups with muffin papers.

Mix the melted butter, pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla in one bowl. Mix the flour, salt, baking powder, cinnamon, and chocolate chips in another bowl. Combine the two bowls and mix just until you don’t see powder anymore. Scoop into muffin cups and bake 25-30 minutes.

Spacing and Baby Names and Killer Spiders and Italian Sweet Cream

  • I’m about to go to Target. It is really fun to have older kids and younger kids at the same time. I love when the baby talks to Rob and Rob answers so kindly. Henry says “AH-LO!!” (hello) and Rob says, “Hello, Henry!” in the same “you sweetie!” voice we grown-ups use. Or just now, I heard a crash and a baby starting to fuss, and I heard Rob saying in that same grown-up voice, “Oh NO! Are you o-KAY? There! You’re okay!”
  • I stupidly sent my sister-in-law and brother, who are expecting MY NIECE in February, a snarky article about baby names. I didn’t read it very carefully; I was just like, “Oh, this is about baby names, it is relevant to them!” But it was so snarky! And it turns out that about 80% of the snarking was in the direction of names actually on their lists! And not only that, in the direction of names I would LOVE to have on a niece! So now if I don’t get a niece named Ruby, Flannery, or Matilda, it is totally my own fault!
  • I’m so glad Halloween is over. I’m kind of a BIG CHICKEN, and I get scared/startled by Halloween merchandise. In our neighborhood there’s a huge fake spiderweb with a fake PERSON caught in it, with the person’s head…removed by the spider. And it is FREAKING ME OUT. I want to see CHRISTMAS decorations now, please!! Nice happy snowmen and jolly Santas, is what I’m thinking! No more killer spiders!
  • I am SUCKING DOWN the coffee this morning. I’m getting a cold, and I need the artificial energy. Plus, I want more of the Italian Sweet Cream creamer, which I love.
  • I wish I could format this with a space between each bullet point. This whole big solid block of text is FREAKING ME OUT. [Edit: My dad told me how to do this! Enjoy the pretty spaces!]

If You’re Frazzled and You Know it Clap Your Hands (Clap, Clap)

So yesterday I was all “If you’re frazzled and you know it clap your hands (clap clap),” because I had SO MUCH TO DO. One of the many problems of having a houseguest for TWO WEEKS is that things get behind. Especially if the houseguest is a mentally-draining one who leaves the hostess feeling as if making it through the day with everyone still alive is all anyone can ask of her.

After she left I was all “I need to RECUPERATE” and so I continued to not do stuff. And yesterday it all seemed to wallop me at once. I mean, you should have SEEN the laundry. Astonishing. And bills needed paying, which always stresses me out, and there were dishes in the sink but also a full clean dry drying rack of dishes, and the trash was overflowing, and WHEEEEEEE.

What I thought was that coffee would help. I was feeling tired because of staying up too late the night before, and I was feeling discouraged because of all the yucky tasks ahead of me, and sometimes caffeine can be just the thing for tired and discouraged. Unfortunately there was a little backfire and all I did was add jangled and queasy to the list.

Well, I got the important bills paid, and I took out the trash, and I put a new package of diapers in the thingie, and I did three or four loads of laundry (and please ignore the load of clean laundry sitting in the hallway), and I also managed to check one million times to see if any of my postcards had arrived yet. No. They hadn’t. Where ARE they? I have one traveling in the U.S. that has been traveling EIGHT DAYS. It’s making me antsy. That one’s not too bad because it would only cost me 27 cents to re-send it, except that I had a special postcard that was PERFECT for my assigned person, and so that would be (1) irreplaceable, and (2) a bummer. Worse is the one that’s been on its way to Germany for 28 days. That one is almost certainly lost, and PIFFLE CRAW that’s upsetting. It happens, of course it happens. What’s amazing, really, is that so many of these get THROUGH. I mean, I’m sending a 4×6 flat piece of paper to, like, TAIWAN, and it just ARRIVES there over sea over dell as if by magic. So I suppose that a postcard slipping away here and there is unsurprising.

Edit: Okay, FREAKY: AS I WAS TELLING YOU about the 28-day postcard to Germany, it arrived in Germany.