Still technically not a baker

[I meant to post this a month ago, when we actually did this.  Such is life.]

I have made one pie in my life, and that one doesn't really count.  The crust was the frozen, ready-made kind, and the filling came from a can.  I decided, since it was a holiday weekend and I  (to my joy and surprise) had no work obligations, the boys and I would make a dessert together.  I brought down The Joy of Cooking.  The three of us huddled on the couch, flipping through the pages, rejecting all the fruit pies.  As much as those two love fruit, I thought surely they would want one.  Then the cream pies came along.  And there it was: chocolate mousse pie.

Yes, I used the good chocolate chips.

Every baking related dish was dirtied in this endeavor.  I finally used the kick-ass Kitchenmaid stand mixer I acquired when Maria passed. And may I say, that thing is AWESOME! 

Here's the mousse part, next to the important part of the fridge: booze.

 The crust was made of Oreo cookies, so made died for the greater good. 

The bowl of Oreo innards.  Yes, this was eaten eventually.

And the final product.  It took two days, but by golly, I did it, with some help from my children.

It looks better with whipped cream.  And on a fork.  And in my stomach.

Turning 41

April was a brutal month: three weeks of camps, multiple parties and events, all-school field trips.  The month finally won, and I've been sick for the past week.  Thankfully, the weekend was lovely, and a great way to start my 41st year.  The morning started with present giving.  I got the LEGO Mini Cooper set, complete with a brick picnic set and red and white checkered blanket.  (Someday, I will have a life-sized Mini. I'm working my way up to it.)  Flynn gave me a present, too.  He boxed up Stitches, his teddy bear and lovey he has had forever.  He said he didn't use it any more and he wanted me to have him.  Of course, I cried.  Such a sweet gesture.  Tim and Drake had a work event most of the day (Saturday).  Flynn and I were able to have some quality time together, complete with a carb-filled lunch and a trip to the bookstore.  (I even bought him a new book: How to Speak Cat.  I figure, if he is going to act like a cat, he might as well be fluent in the language.)  Sunday, Drake completed his First Communion.  About a half hour before going to church, he mentioned that his stomach was upset.  Based on our conversation, I thought it was just nerves.  Sadly, this was not the case.  Partway through mass, he had to quickly excuse himself to throw up.  He was able to complete the sacrament incident-free, but was very pale and shaky.  We already had plans to go to brunch after mass with the family.  He was able to go along, but disappointed he couldn't eat anything.  "I've been looking forward to this all week," he told me with tears in his eyes.  Brunch was filled with carbs and shrimp and mimosas.  So fabulous.  Drake and I napped together after returning home.  The four of us settled in on the couch and watched "E.T."  Drake went into his room about 1/4 of the way in and fell asleep with a 100-degree fever.  Flynn enjoyed the film, worried about E.T. and excited at the chase in the end.

Tomorrow, I need to go back to reality and back to being a business owner and mother to a sick child.  As for now, I am basking in the love of family and friends, and will close out the weekend with the Mother of Dragons.  Bring on Game of Thrones.

Number of blog posts

2010- 152
2011- 56
2012- 43
2013- 23
2014- 18
2015- 3


Am I running out of things to say, or am I forgetting to say those things?  Am I still a writer if I don't write?  Am I OK with letting go of the title of "writer" and choose to refer to myself as a "occasional writing hobbyist"?

Challenging day

Today was not my best day, as a teacher and a business owner.   I yelled during class.  I never yell during class.  Then again, I have never had a class like this.  Even in my most challenging classes, I have been able to get through a lesson plan.  Not this class; not this group of kids.  There's always "that kid", the one who throws off the class dynamic.  This class had three.  One stopped coming.  The other two: no one wanted to partner with them.  These kids were mean to each other, wouldn't stop talking when I tried to teach, and flat out refused to do what was asked of them.  And then, two started chasing each other around the narrow room.  The only way to stop any more forward momentum was to yell to stop.  So I yelled.  I felt so helpless and so unprofessional in that moment. 

But, through all the chaos and the meanness and disrespectfulness of the class, I must have done something right.  I received this thank you card from one of the quieter students.

Waiting is the hardest part

I don't think I'm cut out for being the big boss or high pressure situations.  We are in a situation where we need to hire a teacher.  Two left in December, and all of our schools are up and running this month.  We interviewed two candidates this week.  One was perfect: past teaching experience, training in classroom management, wanted to become a teacher.  The other has the dynamic personality, but we have reservations about his classroom management ability.  I sent an offer over to the former this morning.  I haven't heard anything from her yet.  I fear we will not be enough for her.  That's the pisser of it all: the best candidates are already working and teaching. The rest have been marginal, at best. I could barely understand three applicants.  Several more never returned my calls.  And more still had zero skills related to what we do and were just applying to anything and everything.  I want this candidate to accept.  Every second that passes is adding to my worry and stress levels.

On the upside, I have been ridiculously productive today, trying not to think about how much time as passed without a response.  I guess there is a silver lining in all situations.

New year, same me

The Christmas decorations are down and packed in their boxes.  The living room is back to its proper configuration.  The boys are snuggled in their beds, reading by lamp light.  They will probably stay up too late reading, yet again.  I predict some grouchiness tomorrow.

The news feeds are full of ways to make this year the most organized and bucket-list-crossing-off year it could possibly be.  Friends have posted stated their intentions for improvement during this year.  Many gave a hearty middle finger to 2014, glad to be rid of a year full of, well, whatever the year was full of.  I applaud those who will keep these resolutions.  Resolutions are great in theory.  We should all want to improve, to learn, to grow.  Why is this reserved for the first of the year?  Why can't we change at any time?

As for me, I am fully aware of my shortcomings.  I want to learn new skills and have new experiences.  But, because I know my shortcomings, this year is about finishing. I start, but I lack follow through.  I can't begin anything new until I have finished what I have started/abandoned.  The craft projects have piled up over the past nine years in this house.  The home improvements that are half done.  The tasks that have been gathering dust on the to-do lists.  The books stacked in the corner, leaning precariously, and filling the Kindle memory.  How can we really expect to improve and grow and move on while we schlep so much baggage from the past?  All of these undone tasks have definitely exceeded that maximum weight restriction.

That is my plan for the year.  I am looking forward to crossing off each and every item on the overdue to-do list.

Oh, sweet irony

I started my college career studying business.  A third into my sophomore year, I abruptly left class to change my major to English.  (I didn't like the politics involved.)  Twenty years later, I am running a business with my husband, and I left teaching English because I didn't like the politics involved.