First haircuts

I was scrolling through some pictures on my computer when I happened across this one.

And my first thought was, “Who gave Felicity that awful haircut?”

Let them eat cake.

I wanted to do something with butterflies for Felicity’s cake and after searching the internet I came up with this. It seemed easy enough and I had the brilliant idea to do it ahead of time and have a very relaxing day preparing for her “party”.

Three days, three tries, and three trips to the store later, I decided that they were fairly simple to make. Easy? Not so much.

If I hadn’t been so frazzled trying to get dinner on the table while I was attempting decorative butterflies for the third and final time, I probably would have thought about writing her name on the cake or something. Alas, I’m as good at multi-tasking as I am at reading and following directions.

But, onto the party!

Right as we were taking this picture, Felicity tried to touch the flame. Which resulted in us shouting and her crying.

Four kids does make more relaxed parents. Let’s not pretend that’s always a good thing.

So she wasn’t terribly excited about sitting by herself after that.

She never did eat the cake.

But I did.

And it was good.

It’s been a year and the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.

I have a feeling it’s not going to, either.

We celebrated Felicity’s first birthday on Saturday, which was a little late. However, the only ones who minded were her brothers.

But I served hot dogs, mac and cheese, and a non-chocolate dessert and then they didn’t seem to mind at all.

The boys really enjoyed shopping for her. Although, I ended up having to steer them away from the princess crowns. I knew she’d never wear anything on her head.

And then she’d probably break it.

That’s the only reason.

Seriously.

Hey, I let them get the princess butterfly wand.

Here she is handing it to her brother. Aww, she knows how to share. We’re obviously doing something right.

But what is she doing with the bunny?

Oh, I see. Removing it so she can have the stroller all to herself. That’s not very nice.

We’ll just put the bunny back.

And she pulled it out again.

I think we should move on now.

What could it be?

A pink dress!

For me?

And new hairbows! How interesting.

Is that really what you’re supposed to do with them?

I’m not so sure about that.

Here she is still checking her head to make sure no one stuck any more bows in her hair. Because that would be terrible.

(They’re very cute bows though. You can find them at my friend’s shop here.)

Stay tuned for part 2: Cake! Will she eat it?

(Sorry for the tedium. No grandparents were present for the party and I figured you’d all understand.)

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I’m loaded with many tedious videos of a one-year-old not blowing out her candle, not unwrapping her presents, not-quite walking and decidedly not smashing frosting into her hair.

And I’m not afraid to post them.

Stay tuned.

As opposed to how I usually do it when I just stop blogging and everyone assumes I’ve dropped off the face of the earth.

This time, I’m announcing that I’m dropping off the face of the earth for ten days!

(Okay, not really.)

(But you have to admit, this place might be a lot more interesting if I did.)

I’m actually just going to be internet-less for about ten days.

I still plan to write. But I also plan to paint, so we’ll see what I get done.

It’s like a mini-vacation. I think it will be nice to change the routine, get out of old habits for awhile.

Which, come to think of it, is sort of like moving.

Without the chaos.

Or all the unpacking.

Or the stress.

Or the big moving truck.

I’m starting to get the impression that moving isn’t like a mini-vacation after all.

Just for the record, this is what we’re not doing.

(I hope.)

Wow, who knew sugar was so flammable?

Let’s just say, I’m easily distracted.

I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes around 11 am after being distracted by this fascinating book earlier, when I noticed the syrup was a little low. So I decided to make some more.

As I was measuring the water (after already measuring the sugar), I got distracted and added too much water. So then I added a little more sugar and set the pot on the stove and turned it to high.

Then S asked if he could play the “make the ball catch the star game” on the computer.

“Okay, but only for ten minutes.”

Then, I decided maybe I should help him turn the computer on. When I got to the back room where we keep the computer, I wondered if maybe I should download the newer version that Mr. French had mentioned a few days ago and decided to see if I could get this computer on the internet. I had to search for a cord and after a minute decided it was probably going to be too hard and I would wait until Mr. French got home to do it.

On my way out of the bedroom, I stopped in the bathroom to refresh my chapstick when I noticed that the toilet was kinda dirty looking and then I remembered that I had planned to clean it this morning and decided that now was as good a time as any to go ahead and do that. I stopped at the laundry closet, on the way down the hall, to pick up the toilet cleaner and then realized that I actually didn’t keep cleaner in the laundry closet, although that might be a good idea because it was sitting out on the counter in the kitchen while I wait for maintenance to come see why there’s seems to be a periodic leak under the sink that sprays everything under there indiscriminately with coffee grinds. (Hello, garbage disposal? You don’t look so hot.)

And that’s when I smelled it. A sort of sweet burning smell. Oh, yeah, I’m making syrup.

It looked fine, but it was boiling so I pulled it off and that’s when I saw the flame.

So, I blew on it and it went away for a second.

And then it came back with an s.

And then I said to myself, Rachel, you need something more effective here.

So, I blew on it harder.

And the flames disappeared for two seconds.

And then they came back a little higher than before.

And then my thoughts flinted to water.

NO, said my brain. It’s an electric stove!

Which, by the way, shut it off please.

The flames were increasing, when it hit me.

Baking soda.

Two things I’m thankful for. The knowledge that one should use baking soda in an electrical fire was something I learned a long time ago and had never since had the chance to use. And yet, even after four pregnancies and the subsequent multiple brain cell loss, it was still there waiting to be used.

And second, I found the baking soda in the first cabinet I looked.

I grabbed it and poured and it was out like a light.

Like a light with a switch. Not necessarily like a light with a flame, depending, of course, on what you’re burning and what you decided to use to try to put it out. (See above paragraph on the effectiveness of wind in sugar fires.)

I looked at J’s wide eyes and had that little moment when you nervously laugh because you know you just got away scot-free with something that could have turned really bad, really fast.

Okay, not scot-free. Because then, the fire alarm went off. And I had to go find the stupid fire alarm that decided to go off after the flames were officially out. And while I was looking for it, I noticed all the sprinkler heads sticking out of the walls and started hoping that living in an apartment building didn’t mean that the fire department would show up anyway and also that the sprinklers didn’t automatically turn on when the fire alarm does. Please don’t come on. I finally found the fire alarm down the hall and started waving frantically in it’s direction, while yelling for the kids to open the windows and turn on the fans.

Then, Felicity started crying.

And the fire alarm I was fanning and jumping from a chair to try to hit the buttons, started beeping at the torture. And then it was finally all silent.

So, now the kitchen smells like burnt sugar (Ooh, crème brûlée!) and the toilets are still dirty but I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we definitely have enough syrup for breakfast tomorrow.

You said that already.

I can’t remember when it became obvious, but J does not like chocolate. In fact, we’re almost convinced it makes him sick. And by sick, I mean it makes him want to empty his mouth of the stuff.

Once Mr. French took him (and his brothers and the dog) to a store (to buy dog food) and the owner of the store gave them all mini-peanut butter cups. The kind that are covered in chocolate.

By the time they got home it was all over J’s mouth, running down to his shirt and pants. We’re still confused but it appears that he started to eat it, decided against it and maybe let it all come back out?

Who does that?

His big thing is with melty chocolate. You know, the kind that oozes from just-baked chocolate chip cookies, or s’mores or brownies with chocolate chips in them. This is why he always asks before taking anything that looks remotely like chocolate if it is, in fact, chocolate. So, if he asks if there’s chocolate in the brownies, I say no, because, there isn’t any “oozy” chocolate and that’s really the only kind that matters to him.

All of this is important to know for the following story.

The other day, we were out doing a little used furniture shopping. Afterwards (we didn’t find anything), we decided through code and by spelling words they didn’t recognize (yet) to go out to eat as a special treat. But we weren’t going to tell the boys yet since we still had one more stop to make first. On the way there, and in fact, previous to that, J had started saying, “I’m hungry.” “I’m still hungry.” “I’m still hungry!”

Mr. F: You’re still hungry, J? How unusual. I would’ve thought you’d be over it by now.

J: No. I’m still hungry.

Mr.F: Are you just going to say that until you’re not hungry anymore?

J: That’s my plan.

Mr.F: (laughing) That’s your plan? Well, what if you don’t get the results you’re looking for from it?

J: What’s results means?

Mr.F: Results means if the thing doesn’t work, will you change your plan?

J: That’s my plan. (If it got a laugh the first time, try it again.)

Me: What do you want to eat, J?

J: I don’t know.

Me: How about some beans?

J: I don’t like beans.

Mr. F: How about beans and brussel sprouts?

Me: How about some beans covered in chocolate?

J: I don’t like chocolate.

Me: How about a hot dog dipped in chocolate with beans on top and warm melty chocolate on top of that!

J: I don’t think so.

Me: How about a warm chocolate chip cookie with warm melty chocolate all over it?

Mr.F: That actually sounds good.

J: That doesn’t sound good.

Mr.F: How about chocolate frosting on chocolate cake with warm chocolate on top of beans?

J: But I don’t like chocolate!

Mr.F: Then I guess you’re not hungry enough. If you’re not hungry enough to eat chocolate, you’re not hungry enough.

J: …    But…        I’m still hungry!

(And just for the record, we’re equal opportunity teasers. We think hope it builds character.)

A sign of things to come, perhaps?

A few weeks ago, C was entertaining Felicity for me while I got dinner ready. When I was ready to take her back, he carried her over to me, took a step back, bowed and said, “There you go, Queen Felicity.”

To which she smiled and patted her subject’s little head.

______

This afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen holding Felicity when I remembered that I still hadn’t figured out what to make for dinner. I walked over to the freezer to see what we had. She somehow recognized the ice cream carton on the door and pointed to it, making those recognizable “I want, I want” sounds.

“No, we just need the chicken.” I said, pulling out the bag and shutting the door.

She again pointed to the freezer. I opened the door. She pointed to the ice cream. “Uuh?” She said, lifting her voice into a question.

Oh, why not, I thought. There’s only a scoopful left anyway.

______

Today, while at the pool, I was keeping a close eye on Miss F by keeping my hand on the back of her swimsuit. At one point, she was actually just out of the water while I sat on the steps of the pool. She turned around slightly, noticed my hand on her suit, picked it up and returned it to me.

Never mind the fact that she can’t seem to leave my side when I’m making dinner.

______

It’s always a bad sign when a house with four kids is quiet.

Felicity crawled into my bedroom with my keys.

“Have you been getting into my purse?” I asked.

She smiled.

Down the hallway, into the living room, I picked up the contents of my purse.

Thankfully, she hadn’t figured out how to open the lip gloss.

Yet.