Its weird for me. I love it, I love spending my time focusing on my son. I enjoy watching him grow and change every day. I enjoy cooking. I am my own boss, I decide what I want to do, when I want to do it, with the obvious exception of whenever Pants is telling me what's up. Which he does a lot. That baby can be *quite* the little tyrant. But he is probably the cutest little dictator in the whole world so I guess he gets a pass.
I do not like some parts of it. I don't like that I don't have anything to "challenge" me. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I am a fairly smart cookie, and I don't get to do things that I haven't ever done, I don't get to deal with other adults much. Also, my home is also my workplace, so I get a little trapped feeling sometimes. Especially without my horse. That is a large reason as to why I started writing on this blog, so that I had something that is all mine, that challenges my mind a bit.
Reading all of the "mommy-blogs" online, and being around my incredibly creative sister-in-law, I feel a little, um, deficient in some areas. Creativity is not my strong point, I can't draw anything. TJ has fired me from wrapping Christmas presents because they look "like a truck ran over it". I don't even really try craft projects because I am worried they will be terrible and I will have wasted money on it. Cooking is fun for me, but I am not a baker, because the "pretty" aspect of it. And there is not as much wiggle room, baking is much more precise.
For Pant's first birthday in January, I have decided I want to make him his cake though. And I want it to be cute. I found these little cake pop things online, and decided since I have six months to try to get this shit figured out, I would give it a shot. The website I found say to back a cake from scratch. Eff that noise. They also suggested making my own frosting...ummm...no. I used boxed cake and frosting. Oops.
Then the box mocked me. It must have known I was not a baker with the serious stuff like mixers....
Yep - That says to beat 450 times BY HAND!! What the fuckity fuck? Well, since I wanted to do this right and baking scares me, I was going to follow these instructions to the letter. So I diligently counted four hundred and fucking fifty strokes. I need to bake more often, its a motha- effein work out. TJ was not helpful- he stood behind me shouting out random numbers.
Little does he know, I have been counting for 24 years now. I'm virtually a pro. I won at counting. Sucker.
The cake baked, I crumbled it, balled up 50 little balls, melted some white chocolate, dipped the little balls on sticks in the chocolate and then in sprinkles. And they are kind of ugly....
But damn if they don't taste good. A few more practice runs and I will not totally embarrass myself at Pant's birthday, in front of aforementioned creative genius sister-in-law.
I am slowly becoming domesticated - who-woulda-thunk-it?
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