Yesterday was such a stellar day all around, what with the medicines doing what they get paid to do, and the children exiting the pad right on schedule, and the not getting out of my flabby yoga pants, nor even having to leave the pad once all day.
Adding to all that heady excitement was the culinary fascination brought about by the discovery that confectioner's sugar stored in old (clean) pickle jars causes the sugar to take on the very essence of pickle, and it can then be added to virtually anything without the pickle essence ever fading. I used it to make lemon-vanilla frosting the other day, which for the sake of full disclosure really had to be re-named lemon-vanilla-pickle-essence frosting.
The frosting went on top of a lemon cake and a gingerbread cake, and there was enough
left over to use it as the butter for cookies. I thought for sure that the addition of peanut butter, eggs, oatmeal, raisins, and whole wheat flour must cancel out or mask the pickle-essence,
but I thought wrong.
The daughter, having been off at school all day, grabbed one when she got home ~ "Mom, what kind of cookies are these?..(strange look of recognition on her face)... Is that pickle-jar frosting I'm tasting?" Ah, these are the moments
when I have my revenge that make mothering all worthwhile.
And so this morning, filled to the breaking point with high hopes, I bounded out of bed (okay, that's not exactly accurate -- to be honest I'm not even sure I would know how to "bound," even if that's what I was getting paid to do). What really happened was that I sat up in a wobbly fashion and groped around in the dark for the infernal cellphone alarm, to smash it to bits for doing what it gets paid to do. But anyway, there I was, in my naive and groggy yet hopeful state, truly believing that everyone else would also be emerging from their peaceful slumbers similarly stoked for an unprecedented two-day-in-a-row streak of morning excellence.
I approached the sleeping child in my usual sing-song-y, cheerful, "first try" waking-up voice. "Hey Sweetieeeee ~ it's time to wake uuu-uuuup!" (As opposed to my usual "fifth-or-sixth try" IT'S TIME TO GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW, PERIOD not-altogether-sing-song-y voice). Well, not only did Sweetie not bound up filled with determination to repeat the smooth efficiency of yesterday morning, Sweetie did not bound at all or even budge or even so much as twitch. I guess Sweetie's medicine was working overtime, hoping for a pay increase.
An hour past wake-up time, he still didn't appear to be experiencing any undue stress
about being late for school.
This was most likely because he had awoken in the wee hours of the morning, walked out to the living room, and eventually fallen back to sleep on the couch. The couch is imbued with very powerful sleep-inducing vibrations, so combined with the hard-working medicine, I can only imagine how comatose a sleep he was in.
The daughter, as well, failed to emerge from her crypt at the appointed dusky hour, which left me alone with naught but these people with whom to share a sigh and an eye roll or two, mainly at myself for daring to think there could be two such beautiful days of perfect attendance and yoga-pants-wearing cookie revenge in a row.
Speaking of yesterday, if you've had the time or the inkling to look at my photo-tutorial on learning the crocheted star (or daisy) stitch, you may have noticed, as I had, that there were a few futsy and potentially confusing spots...
for which I apologize! I went back over it this morning and tried to make it more understandable ~ but if you have any trouble, feel free to let me know in the comments, and I'll do my best to help you get it right. It's such a fun and pretty stitch that I think it's worth getting the hang of.