Cupcakes and Friends

My girls had some friends over earlier this week, and I let them loose in my kitchen for an adventure in baking cupcakes.

Part of me wishes that I’d taken pictures of them while they were making the cupcakes.  They had a great time.  But I think it was best that I didn’t get the camera out until the end of the project because I think they would have been a little intimidated by the camera.  They would have felt more like they had to do it “right” and less like they could have fun.  So it all worked out well, I believe.  I just sat in the other room and listened as they mixed batter, poured it into muffin tins, baked, checked for doneness, mixed up frosting, decided how much sugar they should add to the frosting to make it thick enough, and on and on.  It was great.

And in the end, the cupcakes they produced were great, too.
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The icing set well, and they were very cheerfully decorated.  The cupcakes themselves even tasted good.
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Best of all, we had five happy girls who were very proud of their creations.
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We also had an amazing kitchen counter when it was all said and done:
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Have you ever seen a batter bowl like this?
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Yep.  We had a pretty decent mess.
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And some scrubbing to do.
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We even had a few cupcakes that had been forgotten.
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But more importantly, we had happy faces.
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And a fun memory, not to mention sweet treats.
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I also think they learned.  This was a building block in their baking skills experience.
It will help them get better at it.  (In fact, my girls baked some miniature cakes the next day for their dolls, and they did it in less time and with much less mess.)

Sometimes I forget that learning makes some messes.  But we get better at it, if we keep trying.

It gets easier to clean up, and we make fewer messes as we learn and grow.   But isn’t it wonderful that we can try?
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I know that I make a lot of messes, both in my kitchen and in many other aspects of life.
I’m grateful I can keep trying and make fewer messes as I improve.
And hopefully, in the end, I’ll have some yummy cupcakes to show for it.

Marker Mania

I walked in the door today from picking up my daughters and was greeted by a proud 18 month old who came running across the house shouting “Look!”

So I looked.  And this is what I saw.
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She was covered with ink.  Her hands were solid blue, she had marker all over her clothes.
The back of her neck was blue, and the inside of her ears were blue.  She was so proud of herself.
Her three year old brother, who was responsible for climbing to get the markers, had escaped with blue hands and a few marks on his face and neck.
The babysitting brother had no idea what had just happened on his watch (we’re learning).

So, I grabbed my camera and some Magic Erasers and we all went upstairs to assess the damage.
Let’s pause here to just make sure that every mother of toddlers knows about the existence of these fabulous things.
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Every house needs a bunch of them on hand.  They can get almost anything off of a wall, without bringing the paint, too.  I’m a big fan.  In fact, I should have invested in stock years ago because of the small fortune I’ve spent on them.  You can get them in most stores on the cleaning aisle.  And if you don’t have them, please get some!  You’ll never regret it.

Back to my early evening detour.  At first I just saw things like this:
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No big deal, I thought.  We can take care of this.

So I put the little ones to work in an attempt to teach them to take care of their own messes, and took a few pictures of them cleaning.  I was still feeling pretty good-natured at this point.
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She was cleaning so earnestly!
The whole thing was almost a sweet experience until I walked back into the hall and could see the murals on her brother’s bedroom walls.
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Then big sister walked in with her American Girl doll who had some new tattoos on her face.  They looked an awful lot like the graffiti on the walls.

I started walking from room to room, assesing the damage, and realized that the walls weren’t the only targets.  She had gone for the beds too.  Five, yes five, sets of white sheets all now had red and blue scribbling on them!  Three bedrooms, the hallway, and five beds.  I’d call that a pretty thorough adventure.

Then I turned around and discovered that my four year old, in a sincere attempt to be helpful, had taken everybody’s erasers and soaked them in the sink for a minute.  She didn’t wring them out.  Suddenly I had three little kids wiping blue and red marker off the walls as it ran down their arms and dripped bright blue ink into my carpet.

All of a sudden it wasn’t cute, funny or sweet, and I wasn’t feeling like a good, patient mom anymore.
That’s why the pictures stop right here.  I couldn’t bear it.
I reclaimed the sponges, explained the problem to my daughter, and tried to quickly get the blue out of the carpet.  I put the two little ones  in the bath and we scrubbed as much marker off their little heads and faces as we could.
I finished scrubbing the walls, a couple of which still have a blue tinge to them and which I will tackle with a fresh eraser on my own.  Then I answered a long distance call, raced to get my son to Scouts (late, by now) and came home to feed them all tacos for dinner.

We won’t talk about the lettuce on my kitchen floor.   Let’s just say we had an early bedtime.  And I’m going to bed early, too.

Peanut Butter and Jam, three year old style

My three year old asked for a sandwich at a random time of day.
He wanted to make it himself.
I said yes.
I just wish I’d grabbed the camera sooner.

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There is some peanut butter underneath all that yummy strawberry jam.
But it just wasn’t enough jam, I guess, because he laid it on.

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Of course, he needed to taste every spoonful just to make sure it wasn’t poisonous or something.

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Oh no!  Will he get the drip?

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Phew.

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Lick those lips!

Then he had to spread it like only a 3 year old does

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Next comes the lid.

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And he had to make sure it wouldn’t come off, so:

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Gratefully he stopped before the whole sandwich was crushed.
But he had squeezed so much jam out that he was now afraid to pick it up.
But hungry enough to eat anyway.

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Eating like that is only so much fun, so licking his finger kept things interesting.

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Leftovers, anyone?

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