Little Mousie-Poo

There is something inherently gross about opening up a drawer and finding it covered in mouse offing. Many, many, many little offings, indeed.

 "No, sweet children, those are not chocolate sprinkles."

Yesterday I opened the cupboard to (innocently) grab a packet of oatmeal, only to find that several furry little friends had not only visited that very packet before me, but had the audacity (and rudeness) to poo all over the box. And the cupboard. This made me annoyed. Truly. I was really in the mood for oatmeal.

Minor annoyance turned to anger when I found that the same little party had invaded my various packs of grain AND my bag of Chia. I was especially mad about the Chia because those of you who've tried it know it gives you a nice zap of energy. Having mice was one thing; completely energized-ready-for-the-long-haul-pepped-up-on-Chia Mice was quite another, thank you very much.

"No children, I did not gnaw a hole in all the bags, or dump all the barley out. But thanks for asking."

So began my impossibly dreary and irritating day of painstakingly pulling apart my kitchen, piece by piece; inspecting for evidence of Mouse Invasion; and then, if no evidence of visitors was found, warding them off with lots and lots of dryer sheets. I am told mice do not like the smell of dryer sheets. Let me tell you that after filling every available nook and cranny of my kitchen with them, I don't like them either.

I had accomplished what I thought was a feat of amazement in hauling out every piece of stored food, cleaning every shelf, and reorganizing my entire pantry in my dining room, when I pulled open a drawer to get out the masking tape. Ahh yes, the sprinkles. The little boogers had invaded not only my kitchen junk drawer, but also my flatware and utensil drawers  as well. This means war, mice. War.

And did I mention that they pooped on my Le Creuset pans?? No one poops on my Le Creuset pans. No one. It's on, Mice. Bring it.

By late evening, my entire kitchen had been completely emptied, cleaned, inspected, and reassembled (in a transient fashion) in the dining room. Every little crack, no matter how inconsequential it might seem, was stuffed with steel wool, jammed in with a knife. 8 mouse traps were then baited, set, and positioned.

"No children, those are not toys. Not at all."

This morning not one, not two, but 3 little villains awaiting disposal. Part of me felt bad, I do like mice, after all. The other part of me (the one who did the 12 hour kitchen clean up and relocation stint) was not so sad at all.

 3 down. How many more to go? Until the traps stay empty for a looonnnnggg time, we'll be enjoying a homey kitchen atmosphere in our dining room, and packing up whatever is needed to make every meal; making the 15 step journey into the kitchen.

I will not rest until this battle is won. (By us, not the mice). I will have my kitchen back again. I will. (I hope.)

Just Another Tuesday

Yesterday I was busy doing The Mom thing-cleaning and otherwise occupying myself with the mundane tasks of making the household run seamlessly. You know, a Tuesday.

Just as I was piling up the socks to deposit in the drawer, my happy housewife routine was broken by a scream of epic proportions echoing up the stairs, preceding the quick thud of running feet.

In mere moments, Ashlyn stood before me, hand on neck, face arranged in a look of complete outrage. "Mom!" she began in dismay and shock, "Caedance just pinched me. Pinched me! MOM--it was really, really hard!"

Socks forgotten, I looked at my other daughter. The Instigator. Caedance.

"Caedance," I leveled my gaze at her pointedly, "is that true?"

(Side Note: I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting her to say. She is 7 after all and they are not always known for retelling things with the most accuracy. Whatever I had in my mind when I posed that question, I certainly was not looking for hearing the truth. Not at all.)

"Caedance, is that true?"

She looked straight at me, nonplussed, "Oh yes, Mother. I did. Right here," she lifted her mop of curls and pointed to the very spot where she planted the pinch on her twin. (A quick check on Ashlyn's neck confirmed the truth in that.)

"Why exactly did you do that, Caedance?" This was getting interesting.

"Well she was losing, Mother. She was playing her game (a ds game) and she was losing. I really don't like it when she loses, so I figured if I pinched her she would stop losing."

"Really?" (This was a lot more interesting than putting socks away.) "And Caedance, do you think that was the right thing to do?"

"Probably not, Mom. She kept losing." She stopped her, looking around and considering her next words. "But I'm okay and am ready to move on."

Oh. I see.

Honestly, part of me was on the verge of laughter, part of me appreciated her logic, and the other part (the parent part) figured I should probably do something "Parent-ish" about it.

Caedance was smiling at me. Ashlyn was furrowing her brow, waiting for whatever I was about to dole out to her sister. I still had piles of clothes to put away. A toilet to scrub.

I looked at my first born and said, "You don't need to worry about losing at DS games for a little while because when we pinch, we lose privileges." (Should I even need to say that?? At 7?)

She smiled sweetly, gave Ashlyn and quick kiss on the cheek (on her own accord), and skipped off to play.

Ashlyn shrugged off her dismay, apparently satisfied with the result, and followed her sister off into Playland and fun.

As for me, I picked up where I had left off, putting away all that lovely laundry, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.

It was Tuesday, after all.

Overnight Cinnamon Rolls

Did I mention they're made with a bread machine dough? ('Cause, that's an awfully important part too, don't you think?)

How many times have you started your morning off by yearning for a sweet, gooey, ultimately horrible for you Cinnamon Roll? And how many of those misty mornings did you spend kicking yourself because, darn it, you want that Roll Of Goodness now, not 3 hours from now.

I know your pain. I truly do.

Those who know me know that I am a bakery buff. I heart all things baked. And one of my favorite things is to spend time seeking out recipes that can be crafted and tooled around with, and made yummier.

I came across a version of this recipe while on an online hunt for something to make for an upcoming brunch. I read through it and decided that this just happened to be an awesome basic dough recipe that could be used to make a huge assortment of rolls. Easily. (Maybe a little too easily). And the fact that it required almost no work on my part was a huge bonus. I made a few batches of it, playing with the filling as well. Turns out, this dough can play host to any number of delicious variations.

Here's the basic recipe for the dough.

Basic Overnight Sweet Roll Recipe

1 cup warm milk

(the higher the fat content, the tastier these will be, FYI)

2 eggs

1/3 cup butter,melted

1 tsp salt

1/2 cup white sugar

4 1/2 cups all purpose flour

2 1/2 tsp yeast

Add all ingredients into the bread machine pan in the order listed. (Check your user manual to make sure your machine works this way, some have you adding dry ingredients first.)

Select Dough cycle and step back; you've got about an hour and a half to go do as you will. Sit for a moment (you ARE making cinnamon rolls, you know. You deserve a break. Go read a book. Take a walk. Resist the urge to fold that load of clothes. This is Cinnamon Roll making time; it's special).

When cycle completes (don't you feel rested?), leave it in the machine for another 10 minutes. Then punch it down and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface.

Roll it out into a large rectangle, getting it as wide as you can. You don't want paper thin here, maybe an 1/8- 1/4 of an inch thick? Once you've done that you are ready for your filling. I've made a few that I will share; what you use is up to you.

Fillings:

Classic Cinnamon Roll

1/3 cup butter, melted

1/2 cup brown sugar

2 TBS cinnamon

Brush prepared dough with butter. Combine cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl and sprinkle over dough.

Chocolate Hazelnut Cinnamon Rolls

1/2 cup (give or take) cup Nutella softened

2 tsp cinnamon

1 cup coarsely chopped chocolate (I've used semi-sweet & milk chocolate with great results. Chocolate chips are fine for this).

Spread softened Nutella over the dough. In a small bowl, combine chopped chocolate and cinnamon, tossing to coat well. Sprinkle chocolate/cinnamon mixture over the Nutella.

Orange Blossom Rolls

1/3 cup butter, melted

1 cup white butter

Rind from 2 large oranges (I've not tried it, but you could also try a lemon in this for a more citrus-y joy.)

Brush dough with butter. In a bowl, combine sugar with rind, mixing well.Sprinkle over dough.

(I've also made Potica Rolls with this when I was making Potica and irritated by how much filling didn't make it into the loaves of bread; that extra filling was just enough for one batch of these rolls. And it was yummy, rivaling the Potica itself).

Okay, your dough is rolled out, you've chosen your filling, and hopefully applied it. Now roll the dough, starting from the long side, jelly roll style. You should have a long log of dough sitting in front of you. Before moving on, get a baking sheet and spray it with non stick spray. Have it near your workspace.

Using a sharp knife, begin cutting 1 inch to 1 1/2 inch slices for each roll. Place them on the greased sheet.

(If you have any ends or straggling pieces left, put those in a greased mini loaf pan--they bake up well, right along side the larger pan of rolls).

Here's the great part. (Are you ready for it?) Cover the pan with plastic wrap and place the pan in the fridge. Let it sit overnight. (Goodnight, little rolls of joy).

In the morning, grab your cup of coffee, (there are priorities here, my friends),  remove plastic wrap from pan, then  put it into a COLD oven. No preheating here, people. Set your oven to 350 degrees, set the timer for 20 minutes.

 

Check for over browning around 15 minutes, and doneness around the 20 minute mark. I've had batches need foil covering and another 5 minutes of cook time. Crazy art, this Cinnamon Roll making thing.

 

When done, allow to cool for a moment. You can either glaze or frost them, your choice. If glazing, brusht it on right now, fresh out of the oven. They'll be shiny and look professionally made (impressive, huh?). If you want to frost them, wait till they cool a bit before applying. If you make the Orange Blossom version, try adding some lemon or orange juice to the powdered sugar for an extra punch of flavor. Need a recipe for it? I've included my "formula". I don't measure, I just toss it all in a bowl until I get something I'm happy with. Yeah, I'm a rebel that way.

Glaze/Frosting:

Put 1-2 cups powdered sugar in a bowl. I like to add a TBS or so of softened butter & a bit of vanilla for extra flavor. Add milk, 1 TBS at a time, stirring until it's as thick (or thin) as you want it. Too thick? Add more liquid. Too thin? Add more sugar. You can also add some Maple extract for a maple frosting or glaze.

Nutella Rolls

Cinnamon Rolls with vanilla frosting
and maple frosting

 

The wonder and joy of this roll recipe is that you go to bed with them already made, waking up to the simple need to pop them into the oven. These are fantastic for large groups because you can make several batches--even different batches--and not want to pull your hair out with stress.

My inner baker grins with contentment with these oh-so-easy rolls. I hope yours will too.

An Adventure Worth The Taking

Spring break has come and gone; we're closing the month of April and getting ready to dust off May for public consumption.

Where have these past 365 days gone?

What a year of wonder this has been for us. This first year of schooling at home has been a uniquely glorious experience for our family, most especially for my girls and I.

Picture this: going into a new situation, unsure of how it would work out. It's not exactly a "tried & true" method, and it has a lot of detractors, after all. People constantly asking, "How well will they do?" I spent hours asking myself if they would do well at all. Would they even like it? What if every day was a struggle? What if I couldn't do it? Or worse, what if I wasn't good enough to be the teacher they needed.

I might have all the right intentions, but it would boil down to nothing at all if I wasn't enough.

To say we were starting a grand adventure would be putting it mildly. I, the consummate classroom teacher, was switching up everything I knew and withdrawing my children from the brick and mortar brand of schooling and keeping them (gulp)- at home. With me. All day. (Gulp).

Believe me, that last thought brought on plenty of panic attacks. I adore my children more than words can proclaim. But even I need a break every now and again. I'm good, but I'm not that good.

After much inner reflection, I came to the simple conclusion that I was just going to have to deal with it. Good days and bad days alike; I'd put a smile on my face, and teach. In my mind's rosy picture, I'd teach and they'd sit and absorb every single word, demanding more. A standing ovation would ensue after particularly good lessons where much knowledge was imparted.
Then probably we'd fall into a heap of hugs in the afternoon, discussing our favorite works of fiction: me, the newest Philipa Gregory, they, the newest Fancy Nancy installment, while expanding our pallette eating rare and new foods we'd previously been afraid to try. Urchin, anyone?

Rose tinted glasses aside, this truly has been an amazing year. Maybe not every single lesson was an opus performance by me, but despite that, the girls have come so incredibly far. I am daily amazed. Things that they struggled with in the Fall are now second nature and not given a moment's hesitation. They're making rapid deductions and reasoning with logic that is based on understanding and comprehension. They're thinking outside the dreaded box, making leaps in the scaffolding of their knowledge, and I find myself envious. I know I sure didn't understand the process of the water cycle to that degree in first grade. And I certainly hadn't the foggiest notion of multiplication.

Perhaps the best gift of all, besides the return of their curiosity and interest, is my rare opportunity to get an educational Do Over. Remember how in Elementary School you were just there to have fun? I showed up, did some worksheets, some group work, played outside, and went home with a folder full of To Do stuff haunting me. I didn't really worry about what I was learning...it all seemed a by-product of my time at school. Consequently, I never really internalized a lot of what I was supposedly learning, and thusly, it fell out of my head and was quickly forgotten. But now I'm revisiting it all again, lesson by lesson, concept by concept. Maybe to some it sounds an inane and boring perk, but to an avid acquirer of knowledge like myself, it is a rare gem indeed.

We just re-enrolled for second grade. There is simply too much I still don't, I mean, they, still don't know. Much to be learned and to be explored. More connections to make and more understandings to gained. How could I not want to do this all again? And the best part is that, going into this next year, I'm not afraid. It's not some unseen thing on the horizon, off my road map; it's an experience that I cannot wait to have.

First grade is nearing its end. Second grade and beyond await just up around the bend. Bring it on. We're ready.

Pointing That Finger

Ashlyn has taken to gesturing with a finger while she talks.

No, not THAT finger. The phalanx in question is her pointer finger; also known as, "The Socially Acceptable Pointing Finger".

Whenever she speaks, her pointing fingers makes its pointy appearance, gesturing and coinciding with whatever she may be saying.

You might expect to see this particular movement partnered with phrases such as: "If I may disagree with you", or "Just one moment please", and "If I might have your attention please", and so on.

Only in our house, it is pairing quite well with: "Caedance is really an excellent DS player", or "We are having peas for dinner", and "I completed all of my math work for today".

Perhaps not the most common uses for The Finger Point, but there it is.

Sometimes the finger not only points, but you'll also see it waggling back and forth, or bending up and down in some strange gesture calisthenics. Every once in awhile the film lover in me cannot help but think of Danny's "Redrum"ing finger from The Shinning.

I'm not completely certain what brought this conversational prop to the forefront, but it has been with us for several weeks now and doesn't seem to be ready to make an exit any time soon.

So there it is, I conclude (with finger pointed).

Let us start a new fad. Raise those fingers high. (The pointer finger, people. Not Mr. Middle; he stays down.)

And The Bucket Too

Quite some time ago, (so long that I cannot begin to define it), I was wandering the aisles of one retail chain store or another and come across a most interesting item. At least, it seemed to be a the time. It was a popcorn bucket, you see.  It had a round, slotted tray at the bottom, presumably so that all of the extra salt and buttery joy that sloughs off of said kernels would fall through the slots rather than creating a sludge of salty, buttery goodness that encases the dregs of the popcorn. (If there's such a thing as Too Salty or Too Buttery Popcorn dregs...well, that's news to me).

At the time, I thought it was pure genius. (I was also apparently forgetting the fact that Popcorn does not make it onto the snack list at our house very often; nor does it arrive in any other form than in a bag earmarked as  Microwavable. Yes, certainly this bucket was made for savvy consumers. Just like me.

I purchased said "treasure" and, needless to say, it has held actual popcorn maybe one time in its partnership with our house. Maybe twice.

This is not to say that the bucket has gone unused. Mais, non. Where there are children, there will always be uses for an empty bucket. Always.

For awhile it was a hat. I wish I could say the girls were really young during that stage, but I would be lying.

Then in a sudden burst of musical genius, it was upturned and carted around as a traveling drum. "Mom! Listen to this" (bang, ba-bang-ba-bang, bang). "What do you think?" Oh. My. Such....sounds.

During one of the girls' rotating recurrences of Chipmunk Mania, it held the whole gang--including the Chippettes, with some roasted peanuts tossed in for good measure.

For the past week it has belonged solely to Caedance. It has sat nearby during our schooling. It's come with us on trips to the store. It even gets tucked into bed with her at night. And this time it carries a precious cargo: a small handful of Littlest Petshop figures; mainly those in the burrowing, nut eating variety.

She walks around with her bucket, quite nonchalantly. "Yes, this is my bucket of Pets. Thank you." Every once in awhile she stands very still and shakes it vigorously, nods, and verbally confirms, "Yes, they're all in there," before walking on her way again. The bucket gets set aside while she engages in some other activity or another, and is picked up and carted away again. Reunited.

It used to be an odd sight. Now it is quite ordinary. Caedance and her popcorn bucket. With Littlest Pet Shop pets inside.

Tonight, when I tuck her into bed with one more kiss and one more hug, I'll have to move the bucket aside. She'll worry that I'm taking it away. I'll reassure her that would not happen. Then I'll put it back once more. She'll smile and turn over, falling asleep quickly.

With a large popcorn bucket by her head. And small woodland creatures inside it.

And I'm completely okay with every bit of that.

Memory Makings

Sitting across from the girls today at breakfast, a thought suddenly flitted into my still slightly groggy brain. My lovely ladies have reached the age I was when I began really remembering my childhood.

My parents have scores of pictures of me sitting in the midst of vacations and adventures we took as a family. I'm young in most of them, anywhere from 3 to 6 years old. Looking at these pictures, I can see that I'm obviously there, but without any memory of it of my own, it's more like I'm a part of the scenery.

Side note: I do have very hazy memories of a family trip to Washington D.C when I was 4ish. Not many, but a few. I have a picture of myself sitting by the Reflecting Pool. Now, based on that photo alone I can only tell you two things: Firstly, sitting down in that moment was apparently the highlight of my day, judging by the look of sheer exhaustion on my face. Secondly, it was apparently alarmingly hot when we were there, if the melted expressions on our faces is any indication. What I do remember from that trip; my singular memory from my one and only trip to our nation's capitol is this: Standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, hearing my mother tell me that the man in the chair was one of our presidents. And being terrified. I mean, truly and utterly terrified. THIS man was a president, I pondered. He's a giant! How on earth did he ever fit anywhere? Was there a house big enough for him? Did he step on people and not realize it?

Clearly, effigies and monuments cast in marble were outside of my 4 year old mind.

My memories of Childhood seem to all begin around the age of 6 and 7. Finally I felt a part of all of those family trips because I actually remember being there.

And now these two ladies are at that age too. When I ask them questions about places we've been in the last few years, they remember and will engage in a conversation about being there and what they did when they were there.

I am loving this part of their childhoods; this stage of collecting of memories. Everywhere we go exciting and everything we do is fabulous. They're along for the ride.

And it's a pretty great ride, if you're asking me.