Crazy Child

LOOK at how my daughter loves to sleep.  She is such a nut!  She refuses to be laid down in her crib, she sits until she gets sleepy, then just slumps forward.  No, I do not let her stay like this, I go in and lay her down once she is soundly asleep.  What a goofball! 

I Swear, She Says "Mama"

Though she adamantly refuses to in this video  : )
But I have officially cataloged her first word as "mama" because she repeats it, and looks for me when other people say it. It really blows my mind.  My friend Kelly put it perfectly:  she still looks like a baby, but does big kid stuff.  Sometimes I can't believe how she motors around, processes information, and generally outsmarts me.  I guess I was thinking she wouldn't have cognitive skills until she was a teenager?  She is already shaking her head "no"; like when I want a kiss.  But then she turns right to grandpy and kisses him. *sigh*.  And the other day, I was lying in the way of her crawling path.  She sat up and assessed the situation, discovered the way around the coffee table was clear, and crawled back the length of the living room to go around it.  As I watched her through the underside of the table, she giggled at me.  Little stinker.  There is so much more, and every day I am reminded of how smart she already is.  It is so neat to watch, and I love seeing her develop into a little person.

Don't You Remember Being Obsessed With This as a Kid?

I do.

I'mNotReadyI'mNotReadyI'mNotReady

CHECK this out.

Yesterday was quite a day.  The morning started with Lydia going from lying down to sitting BY HERSELF.  Then, as I was fixing her breakfast, she lovingly cooed "mama" from her high chair (I am not putting this in the books as her first word, she has yet to repeat it.  It's usually something more like: "mamamamama").  And as I took this video of her motoring across the floor (she was after the yogurt Caesar was eating), I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.  Mommy anxiety is in high gear now that she is mobile.  I am so proud of her for being strong and smart, and growing as she should be.  However, my mommy vigilance seems weak against the odds that have stacked up against me.  She can now get herself into unforeseeable danger before I can even blink.  It's a stark difference from the days when I could leave her on my bed while I used the restroom because she was going nowhere.  I know, I know - I shouldn't have left her unattended on a piece of furniture even then.  But gone are the days where I could cut corners relatively comfortably due to her complete immobility. 
This is so much more than a milestone.  This is the beginning of a new time for Lydia and I - the passover from sweet newborn days to uncharted toddler territory.  Every mom connects to her child in different ways in different stages.  I think I will always cherish Lydia's time as a newborn because I was soothed by the ease of it.  Not having much previous contact with children, I feared ignorance on how to actually raise one.  I was delighted to find that the first months of her life were fueled by pure instinct, which no amount of experience could have ever taught me.  I loved it, I was good at it, and I made Lydia promise me she would always stay a newborn.
It was a promise never meant to be kept; a running joke that will probably always be fondly remembered as she continues to reach and pass milestones.  I can't believe how fast this time has gone.  I want to stop the universe for a year or two so I can hold onto every precious moment.  It's not possible to stop Lydia's development, and I wouldn't want to.  I look forward to seeing the intelligent, thoughtful, kind, tenacious, strong, happy, healthy, sassy, buoyant, dynamic, beautiful individual she blossoms into....
But I can wait.

Stop and Smell the Roses - They Smell Like Crisco

Well, this is my last project from cake class.  We learned the rose - much harder than it looks.  Things I learned in cake class:

• Always add dry ingredients to your mixer on slow
• People like Crisco.  But I don't think they realize they're eating Crisco
• You can buy white butter up north  (WHY only up north?  Because you can buy anything up north)
• There are cupcake tins and muffin tins.  They are not synonymous
• Chocolate cake is a bitch to frost
• The top of your oven does not qualify as a cooling rack
• People who take cake classes are strange

I Love Cake Class!

We decorated cupcakes this week - so cute!

My mom took them to work and everybody fought over the different designs.  The nice thing about learning to decorate?  I HATE the frosting we use, so I am never tempted to eat my own creations.  Saves me a lot of calories, and the rest of the world can enjoy them.  They all seem to think it tastes just fine, so everyone is happy in the end.

Ghost of Tuxedo Strawberrie's Past

Is my blog about anything other than my baby?  Why yes, there is also my baking. 

My mom's company had a bake sale this week, and she thought it would be smashing to make my famed tuxedo strawberries (see "Did You Know Buddy the Cake Boss Has His Own Cooking Show?" post).  I happily agreed - they were so much fun to make, and I knew they would sell like hot cakes (all proceeds went to Ronald McDonald House).
When I made tuxedo strawberries the first time, I made approximately a dozen.  This time, approximately 8 DOZEN.  I finished about half during the day, and when my mom got home from work, she helped me finish the rest, slide 2 each into cellophane baggies, affix adorable star stickers to enclose, and pack into a cooler.  We were up until about 10:30 p.m., and we darn near filled the cooler.  It was quite a sight to behold

That cooler doesn't look full to you?  That's because after we cleaned the kitchen up, took this picture and patted ourselves on the back, we found another full tray hiding in the fridge, still in need of being packaged and placed in the cooler.  My poor mom was already an hour past her bedtime, but did she scream and pull her hair out?  Nope - she laughed and pulled the packing supplies back out.  The apple did not fall far from the tree on this one - we suffer for our art.