(In Your Pants) (Second in the Series)

"Many successes will accompany you this year."
"Be prepared to accept a wondrous opportunity in the days ahead!"

Obviously, my pants are on high alert.

-k

How to make Dinosaur Sugar Cookies

My two-year-old loves dinosaurs.  I know that most kids have a dinosaur phase, but really, this is more of an obsession.  She has several dinosaur encyclopedias and books and an awesome stamp set.  She rearranges all of the big and tiny cheap dinosaur plastic toys every day in the house.  There is always a dinosaur convention in session.  It's been held on the kitchen table, the coffee table, the middle of the kitchen floor, on top of our dog's crate, on the couch cushions, on my body, etc.  It's quite amusing.  She'll help you out with the technicalities if you mistakenly call one of her dinosaurs a "long neck."  Silly you.  It's obviously an Apatosaurus.  "That's not a T-Rex.  It's a Deinonycus."  Or maybe Allosaurus, Parasaurolophus or Ankylosaurus.  Her latest vocabulary wonder is "Archaeopteryx."  This kid scares me.  Seriously.  In a good way.

At any rate, she got an early big sister gift the other day that was a big hit.  Dinosaur cookie cutters.  Awe-some.  We whipped up a batch of cookies right away because it was much more appealing to make a bigger mess of the kitchen than tackle the cleaning up part.  Or mopping.  Ick.  The making cookie process was a bigger hit than the eating of actual cookies.

How to make Dinosaur Sugar Cookies- A Two-Year Old's Perspective

1. Have your mother make a batch of sugar cookies. "Help" dump the ingredients in a bowl. Get VERY EXCITED about making several different colors of cookies. Pay no mind to the stained hands of your mother, who thought about adding color after the dough was finished.

2. Drag your chair to the counter and help push cookie cutters in the dough. Sneak bites of cookie dough. In true baker form, get flour all over your shirt.

3. Name all the dinosaurs. Sneak bites of cookie dough. Point out that your mother broke off T-Rex's midsection. Share the obviously wrecked cookie with your mother.

4. Peer into the oven and wait for the cookies to bake. Toss the dish towels aside so that you get a better view. Put dish towels on dog. Ask to have another bite of cookie dough from the bowl. Share it with the dog.

5. Eat cookies. Name each dinosaur. Dance off your sugar high in the kitchen.

-m

Lent

At my church, the practice of giving something up for Lent is a voluntary decision.  I never really observed it growing up, but have since reconnecting with church after my college organized religion hiatus.  I've always given up Coke, Dr. Pepper and all sugary, carbonated forms of deliciousness.  My body has always been pleasantly surprised come Easter.  Apparently, not enough to actually make me give them up forever.  Life is WAY too short to not enjoy soda.  Not diet.  Not half-ass diet.  And certainly not soda with gimmicky flavors.  Full strength real stuff.  With real sugar if available (shout out, Dublin Dr. Pepper!).

It would be a lot easier to cheat or at least opt out of the soda-drought if not for my husband.  He's all good and determined.  He eats a salad and mixed fruit for lunch.  He can say things like, "I'm just going to have to cut out snacking after dinner."  And he'll actually follow through with it.  He and my conscience mean that in a few weeks I'll be sitting in the hospital with my newborn son, smiling at him and giving him a million kisses and telling him that I'm such a lucky, lucky girl to have two perfect kids.  And ice cold Coke.  And possibly a chocolate bunny.

-m

Open Letter to my Light Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing Bottle

Dear Bottle of Light Balsamic Vinaigrette Salad Dressing,

I am unimpressed.  I can't comment on your flavor yet, as I've yet to actually taste you, but your packaging and I got off to a rough start.  Your "Easy Open Peel" is mislabeled.  That is, unless by "Easy Open" you mean "This Sticker Will Most Likely Cause Your Fingernail To Bend Backward While Trying To Pry The Corner Up So You May Be Better Off Grabbing A Steak Knife."  As I used the most formal of swears, I realized that the peel indicated that I now needed to "Remove Inner Quality Seal Before Using".  Awesome.  I then unscrewed the cap to reveal the seal with "Lift ‘n’ Peel™" imprinted on it.  Charming.  I lifted.  And lifted.  And tried lifting the other side.  No peeling action.  I gave it several good tries before lifting the tab clean off.  The seal was still firmly on the bottle and I'm quite positive that it was smugly grunting at me, pleased with itself.  A sharp knife stab later and I was finally victorious.  I poured some of your dressing into a container for the husband's lunch and shoved you forcefully back into the fridge door.

Now that the easy part is obviously over, I might consider giving you another try.  Next week.  When my fingernail recovers.

Regards,
-m

Motherhood Is...

...walking through the aisles of Target and suddenly smelling the foul odor coming from your child's diaper, then wondering to yourself if you have another diaper stashed in the car (since you just changed her five minutes ago with the last from your purse) and also if you have any wipes left (since you used three to scrub ketchup and chocolate Frosty off her face after lunch at Wendy's).

...patting yourself on the back for both having a secret diaper crammed in the glove box and using the single last wipe to clean up Diaper Armageddon.

...dodging the glares from people watching you change said D.A. in the backseat of the car and wondering if their stares would be any more hostile if they saw you change her in the trunk, like you have on several occasions.

(In Your Pants)

Tonight's fortune cookies:

"The rainbow's treasures will soon belong to you."
"You desire to discover new frontiers.  It's time to travel."