A Haiku

2 p.m. At The Office
             or
I Ate Too Much For Lunch Today

Drifting quietly 

Into the land of slumber

Dozing at my desk

Bitty Surprise

This morning, as I was getting ready for work a little bit later than I usually do have been lately, I heard something unexpected.

The Birdie was awake, and fussing that she wanted to get up.  Okay, that wasn't too surprising, because she has been waking up early a lot lately, but what was surprising was what she was saying.  For possibly the first time ever, I heard through the baby monitor, "Mom-meeee!  I want my mommy!"

Blink.  No, surely I must have heard that wrong.  Because she has never ever awakened asking for me.  Not in the morning, and certainly not in the middle of the night.  It's always Daddy she wants, to the point where she will sometimes wail, "Nooooo!  I don't want yooooooouuuuu!" if I go in, instead.  (But it's fair, because the Imp is the same way with me, except he can't put it into such sharp, specific words quite yet.)

So, after I finished getting ready for work, I popped in and told my still-sleeping husband (who had forgotten to turn the baby monitor on in the bedroom last night) to go ahead and shower, and I'd see if I could get the Birdie to calm down and play quietly in her room until Daddy could get upstairs.

I was still a bit skeptical that she had actually been calling for Mommy, but as I climbed the stairs I heard her wail again, and she was definitely saying "Mommy."  Amazing.

I went in her room, and she sat up, all happy to see me.  "Mommy!"  I sat down on her bed and gave her a hug.

"Good morning, sweetie!  What do you want?"

Often, the first question out of her mouth in the mornings is (or seems to be), "Where are we going today?"  This morning, she asked a variation on it:  "What are we going to eat?"

"Oh, well, sweetie, I have to go to work, but Daddy will fix you something when he gets up here," I replied, with sudden suspicion, but pretending to be oblivious.

She cut right to the chase and confirmed my suspicion.  "Are we going to eat cake pops?"

Ahh, yes.  Cake pops.  She had been delighted by them last night, and ever since she saw them, she had been dying to try them.  And suddenly it came together.  This was why she unexpectedly and uncharacteristically wanted Mommy this morning.  Because Mommy and cake pops go together, in her mind - and the cake pops were apparently the very first thing that crossed her bitty mind this morning.  Or close to it.

And before you say, "Oh no, you are just being cynical, she really wanted you and the other is only coincidence," let me assure you that I am not being cynical.  I accept that she is a Daddy's Girl, and I have no problem with that now.  I am okay (most of the time) with her preference of Daddy, to the point of her often wanting nothing to do with Mommy if he is around.  I love my Birdie and I take my hugs when I can get them (sometimes stolen from a screaming Birdie, but I still get them).  But, no.  It is not coincidence.  Mommy made the cake pops.  Mommy is in charge of the cake pops.  I want a cake pop.  Therefore, I must have Mommy come get me so she can give me one.  I am quite sure that is how her thought process went.

Back to the conversation.

"No, we're not going to eat cake pops right now."

"When are we going to eat them?"

"We'll eat them after dinner."

"Oh."

"You know, there is one with your name on it, waiting for you."

"There is?  Is it the pink one?"

"Yes."

"Is there one with the Imp's name on it?"

"Yes, there is."

"Is it the white one?"

"Yes."

"Is there one with your name on it?"

"No, Mommy and Daddy don't have their names on them, because I still have to decorate them.  But you can help me decorate them tonight!"

I then tried in vain to get her to stay and play quietly in her room, but she insisted on going out.  The conversation quickly turned back to the number-one thing on her mind, though.

"Can I help you decorate them?"

"Yes, you may."

"Can I help now?"

"No, sweetie, I have to go to work now."

"Nooooo!  You can't go to work!"

And I think this is the first time she has ever cared whether I left the house.

Behold, the power of cheese Cake Pops.

Inspired!

Have any of you seen the Bakerella website?  She is amazing, and she has some of the most brilliant creations I've ever seen.

My favorites are her character-themed Cake Pops.  Take a moment to browse through some of the stuff she's done.  (But open it in another tab so you can come back and finish reading my post!)

As the title of this post suggests, I have been inspired to make some little cake pops of my own.  Me?  Really?  Yes.  Me.  I don't bake.  I'm so, so, SO not creative when it comes to drawing and designing things.  I just wasn't blessed in that area.  That's okay with me, because I have other strong points.  (Shhhh!  Let me have my illusions!)

I'm not one of those people who is good at doing something simple and being happy with it.  Just ask my husband, who cringes every time I have to take some sort of food item somewhere.  (Since having kids, I have gotten MUCH better about making a simple choice when it comes to a meal, but before I had two little monsters to chase, I would choose something difficult and impressive.  Or that would be impressive, if it worked.)  Sometimes my creations were brilliant, and sometimes they were duds.

And sometimes, it didn't quite seem like they would work up until the very last minute when, after hours of me cursing and throwing things and stomping around and weeping and anything else you can (or maybe can't) imagine me doing, they would turn out just fine, and I'd feel like a total doof for the way I'd been acting for the last hour or so while Craig hid in the family room playing his video game.

Oh, no, not me.

So, of course I can't just do plain old Cake Pops, not after seeing Bakerella's remarkable creations.  And I had a brilliant idea:  Goggy* Cake Pops for the Imp's birthday, which is about 3 weeks away.  No, wait.  Ooh.  Two weeks.  Eek.

* "Gog" = "Frog" in Imp-speak.

For once, though, I gave myself some realistic expectations (because, dang, those critters look hard)!  There were two main parts to it:  First, I would do a "test run" ahead of time so I could figure out little details, such as how long I should expect it to take (to avoid the last-minute scramble/working into the wee hours of the night before the party), what tools I'm going to need (to avoid the last-minute rush to the craft store), and what the best coating and decorating techniques would be (to avoid the last-minute frustration, anger, and tears when my ideas didn't work, after all).  Second, I plan on doing a variety of designs, and not make all of them little goggies, which will cut down on the more intricate parts.  There will be Gogs, balloons, and just plain balls (which I can decorate - or not - as I wish and have time to do).

I started my test run on Monday night, and let me say that I am so glad I decided to practice.  With two toddlers running around, it makes everything take so much longer!  Monday night, I got the cake balls made, the six test goggies shaped, and everything stuck in the fridge to cool.  I had to make my own icing because we didn't have any, and that was a little bit of a pain, but I vastly prefer homemade icing to store-bought anyway, so that didn't upset me much.  The cake was already made because we baked too much for the Birdie's birthday back in December and froze some of it.  I knew that could make it maybe not taste as good, but - hey! we are practicing! who cares?

Last night, I went to Michael's and got all of the crafting items I didn't have.  When I got home, Craig had to leave right away, so I ordered a pizza (because that's what the Birdie wanted, and who am I to deny her, haha) and got started dipping some of the critters.  I liked the initial results.  So did the Birdie, who wanted to eat the results.  Immediately.  Naturally.  (I did deny her that one, because if I let her eat them, then I'd have nothing left to practice decorating.)

Once the kids were in bed (and the Imp was rocked, and rocked, and rocked...thirty minutes, sigh) I decorated a few of the pops and dipped some more of them.  Here are the preliminary results (please excuse the camera phone photo, it was all I had on hand and my hips and feet and back and belly hurt too much I was too lazy to walk downstairs and get the real camera).

As you can see, I probably have about six or seven left to dip, and then we'll decorate them.  The Birdie has already claimed a seat at the table to help decorate.  :)

Once I'm done, I'll post about them, with real pictures and the lessons I learned for the next time I do them.  I'll also be asking what you like best, because I have two techniques I used for the goggies, and I need to decide which looks (and works) best.

I will say that they're not working out to be quite as hard as I expected, probably because I'm allowing myself extra time to do them and giving myself permission to make mistakes (which I wouldn't have, of course, if this weren't a practice batch).  They're far from perfect, which is fine.

Really.  Fine.  Fiiiiiiiine.  (Excuse me for a moment while I beat down my inner perfectionist.)

Okay, that's better.

Has anyone else tried these before?  If so, what did you do?  Characters or balls?  What colors?  How did they turn out?  I'd love to hear and see pictures, if you have them!

WHAT did that little boy just call me?

Kids do funny things.  Kids also do things that embarrass their parents.  Sometimes, they do things that are funny in one circumstance, and embarrassing in another.  And then you think, Maybe we shouldn't have laughed quite so much the first time.

For instance.

Yes, of course I have an example.  I have two toddlers, one of whom is just learning to speak, and hasn't gotten us in much trouble.  Until, maybe, now.

It started out very innocently last weekend, after we went to dinner and tried to get ice cream at a nearby parlor.  It was jam-packed, and we had to move on, but not before my little Imp got to meet the parlor's mascot, a picture (or statue?) of a cow outside the door.  Although I didn't witness this personally, as I was dealing with a potty emergency involving my other toddler, I have it on good authority that he and the Crazy Cow hit it off quite spectacularly.  The brief meeting ended with my son waving and saying, "Bye bye, cow!"

This has become his new mantra, and at random times, for no apparent reason, we will hear his little voice pipe, "Bye bye, cow.  Bye bye, cow.  Bye bye, cow."  And he will say it over and over.  Sometimes it comes out as, "Bye bye, dow."  But we all know what he means.  And we ooh and ahh and giggle over it every time, because it truly is adorable.  He has a very precious little voice.

So, fast forward to tonight.  My mom was in town again this weekend, and the five of us plus Craig's parents went to an excellent BBQ joint ("restaurant" is just not the right word) for dinner after church.  After a rocky start that involved some sweet cornbread that looked (and tasted) like cake along with many tears when Mommy wouldn't let him have only that for dinner, the Imp managed to finish off about half of my BBQ pork, most of my cornbread, and half an ear of corn.  We were all pleased with ourselves.

Especially him.  He realized everyone thought it was funny when he would open his mouth wide whenever I would try to to take a bite of my food, and got a bit punchy from it.

He's a bit into being the center of attention.  We may have a class clown in the making.

After dinner, I made the ubiquitous pregnant-woman-fifth-potty-trip-of-the-hour.  The Imp was not very happy to see me go, but didn't make a fuss (I don't think).  However, when I came out, he started chanting, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!" in his adorable little voice until (and for a little bit after) I picked him up.

Of course, the folks sitting around us were charmed.  "He's so cute," a nice-looking young lady (probably only a few years younger than I am, but with a sweetness that made her seem younger than that*) at the next table commented, while smiling at him.

* I know that sounds a little weird.  I tend to assess people - not try to judge their character, but just make observations - and in this case, my assessment was along the lines of, "She is probably close to my age, but something about her makes her seem younger."

I answered with something like, "Thank you.  He knows it, too." while patting my son on the head indulgently.  After all, he is the sweetest, cutest little boy you will ever see.  Ever.  I mean it.  So take a good look now, honey, because this kind of cuteness only comes around once every seventy-six years or so.

Anyway.

The Imp and I were among the last of our group out the door, and as we left the people who were smiling at him, I told him to "say bye bye!"  I almost always do this when we leave people who have taken notice of him, because his bye bye is just so cute, and everyone always loves it.

Well, usually.

Can you guess where this is going?

My impish little troublemaker looked at this nice lady and said, "Bye bye, cow!"

Blink.

Except, fortunately, this was one of the times it came out as, "Bye bye, dow!" so instead of looking offended, the young lady just looked a bit puzzled.  And it could have just ended there, with me smiling and waving and leaving with at least a little dignity, but I knew what he had said, even if no one else did, and I got all flustered and embarrassed.

"No, no" I admonished him, "Just say 'bye bye!'"

"Bye bye, cow!" he repeated with the sort of stubborn innocence that makes you wonder if he doesn't really know what he's doing, after all.

At this point, I was both embarrassed and at the same time barely able to hold in my laughter, so I just apologized and darted out the door before she could figure out what he had said.

The poor girl probably thought I was laughing at her.  Sigh.

Actually, she probably just thought I was one of the strangest people she'd ever encountered.  And she was probably right.  Double sigh.

I carried my little guy to the car amidst his chants of, "Bye bye, cow!  Bye bye, cow!" and loaded him in, then had a good laugh about it with Craig and my mom.  And the Imp told the cow goodbye off and on all the way home.

So my little Imp has already managed to inadvertently insult someone - and he can't even talk yet.

(Incidentally, I could go into how my three-year-old who never misses anything just happened to notice how funny we found it that the Imp had told some lady, "Bye bye, cow," and add in there how she tends to take anything that we think is funny and run so far with it we can no longer even hear her crazy little giggles.  But I'll save that story for when it happens.  When.)

Please pray for us.  I think we may be in trouble.