Cake # 79 Greek Yogurt and Honey Cake

Lately I have been reading this blog, The Honest Toddler, which is written from the point of view of a sarcastic toddler who is attempting to make sense of life. As I read it, all I can think of is Evie. Especially the last few posts, one was about a toddler trying to deal with a newborn, and the other one was about the toddler realizing that she is no longer one with her mommy. That one was particularly hard for me to read, as Evalyn and I realize her new found independence. Not only does she help me make every cake each week, since she turned two, but she can also sing the whole alphabet, talk on the phone and make sense, put on her shoes and take off her clothes, and the biggest achievement of all, tell me or Ted when she has to go to the bathroom (even when she is wearing a diaper) and then goes in the big girl potty! Our goal, by the end of the summer, is to have Evalyn as close to out of diapers as possible. We are one week in and girlfriend is doing spectacularly. Thank goodness this is the first summer that I am not working since I was in high school, so I can be there for the process. It is nice, and stressful, and hectic, and funny, trying to play the role of wife, cook, housekeeper, and mother of two. I am glad that I also love to work, or I think my "it's okay that you colored on the wall, your night-stand, bed frame, and lamp when you were suppose to be asleep- smile" would wear off more quickly than Evalyn and Ted would like, and I would possibly loose it. I mean how many times can you say "Oh Toodles" and dance the "Hot Dog" dance until you loose it? I am probably pretty close to that fine line as I find myself singing the Mickey Mouse Club House theme song in the shower.

In an effort to make more efficient use of my time, I chose a cake that did not require me to purchase any ingredients, going to the store with a newborn and Evalyn turns a ten minute shopping run into a two-hour adventure. So I chose to make a Greek Yogurt and Honey cake, besides the two ingredients said in the title, the cake also called for three eggs, light brown sugar, vanilla, AP flour, and baking soda. The topping is lemon juice, honey, and butter.

Here is a picture of OUR cake (A word I am desperately trying to teach Evie to say instead of MINE):

Here is the book's cake:

Until next week...

Cake # 78 Chewy Chocolate & Sesame Bars

Well we officially made it a whole week (and then some) with a newborn and a crazy, "terrible-two" toddler. Don't get me wrong -- I love my daughter, but I am slowly beginning to understand why people thought I was nutso when I said I wanted my kids two years apart. Liam is a piece of cake (haha normally I hate such deadwood phrases -- but since this is a cake blog -- I thought the pun was appropriate) compared to the Tasmanian devil that is Evalyn.

I knew that she was going to be jealous of the new baby, and I am very thankful that she isn't really taking it out on Liam, but somehow I have become the penguin to her batman. Everything I do is wrong, everything I ask her to do is ignored, and she refuses to give me hugs and kisses. Now, Ted gets this treatment sometimes too, but not as much as mean mommy. I can't blame her (though during screaming tantrums, I would be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind) and I understand why she is acting out, but I am not too proud to say it doesn't hurt when my little girl will not give me a kiss, even goodnight.

See, I made the biggest mistake a mother can make. Instead of allowing the world to continue with the sun only shining on Evalyn, I tried to make her share the sun. And no matter how big it is and no matter how many times I tell her that the sun is large enough to warm all of us, it still makes her sad that she has to share it. I am the exact same way she is, and my heart breaks for her when she is jealous and sad, but when she kissed Liam goodnight and tells him that she loves him, I am so proud of her.

So, to try to make up for it, (but really how can I make up for having another baby short of buying her a pony . . . which she would LOVE) I decided today was going to be all about Eve.

First, we ate whatever she wanted for breakfast, Life cereal and "pony snacks," (fruit snacks) then we colored in her room, played with stickers, and made a birthday card for her cousin Bella. After that, we watched T.V. and painted her toe-nails and her finger nails. Finally, we made the cake of the week together, which is Evie's favorite thing to on Saturday. She loves sifting ingredients in the bowl, she loves throwing away trash, and she loves watching the Kitchenaid mix. So today we made Chewy Chocolate & Sesame Bars, which Evie got to pour in the extra chocolate chips; she also ate quite a few of them while she was mixing them in. Besides sesame and chocolate chips, the cake called for wheat and AP flour, vanilla, eggs, dark brown sugar, butter, and baking powder. It was a really easy cake to make, and one of the first cakes in a while that I actually liked -- maybe because it was more close to a granola bar than a cake. Evie ate two bars -- same as her daddy.

Here is the book's cake:

Here are OUR bars (a word I am trying to teach Evie to say instead of "MINE"):

Let's hope that next week, both Evalyn and Liam will have more time to bond.

Cake # 77 Currant Bars with Spiced Apple Syrup

This week's blog is very special to me because it is the day before Father's Day- and boy do I have a baby story to share! Like I mentioned last week, I was pretty sure after my 36 week appointment that my baby would be early. He was - almost a full month early, because five days after my appointment, baby Liam was born! I am truly blessed that he is a healthy and happy "preemie". To me, a six pound fourteen ounce baby is certainly not a "preemie," but because he was born on his 36 week of life and not 37th, which doctors consider "term" and at 40 weeks "full-term," he is considered a "preemie" and my little man had to undergo a slew of tests that I never experienced before with Evie- as did I for a matter of fact.

After my 36 week appointment, Ted and I were trying very hard to make it until Thursday, which was the last day of work for teachers, then on Monday, our Superintendent, Tomback, decided to re-instate that Wednesday was the last full day for teachers. When I made it through the weekend, and Monday at school, I figured, I could do two more days. One of my favorite books as a child was The Little Engine that Could, by Watty Piper, and the "I think I can"mantra that the little blue engine repeated over and over again stayed in my head the whole time. At least, I wanted to make it until Tuesday, which was the last day for students, and their last final exams. After school on Tuesday, at around 4:00pm, I was attending an emotional end of the year celebration at a fellow English teacher's house - and I knew I was in labor, but refused to admit it. In fact, one of my fellow English teachers, who was incidentally getting me all worked up because I was incredibly sad to see him go, said to me "I remember that look from the first time Laura went into labor, there is no way she is making it twenty-four hours before this baby is born." Though I hate to admit whenever he is right, Chris was right.

I left the party at around 4:30 because I was extremely uncomfortable, Ted and I picked up our daughter at daycare, ate dinner and did the whole bed-time routine with her - the whole time I was feeling contractions - they were every ten minutes, but they were not strong. I decided to try and take a shower to see if that made them go away - it did not. So at around 7:00 p.m. when the contractions were getting stronger, I told Ted to call his mom to come up so she could watch the baby. Ted's mom and sister came up and we got to the hospital by 7:30p.m. When my midwife, Lori, checked me she said I was only four centimeters -- and that she could see that my contractions were regular, but that because I wasn't feeling any stronger pain, that she would just wait to see what had happened within an hour. 9:00 p.m. rolls around and Lori comes back and checks me again and sees that I haven't changed much, and thinks that I am probably not in labor, she then asks me how much I have had to drink, and I told her that I only had about a bottle of water all day. She gets a look of "Oh duh!" on her face, and tells me that I am having contractions because I am dehydrated and that I need to drink water. She brings me back three huge containers of water and tells me I need to drink them all within the half hour. By eleven o'clock she comes back to check me again, she asks me how I feel, and I tell her that the contractions are getting more uncomfortable for longer periods of time, stronger, and closer together. She checks me, sees that I am completely effaced and at 6 centimeters. She tells me that I could go home if I wanted, but that she is pretty sure I would be back before the morning because I was in active labor. She also tells me that they cannot break my water because I am not to"term" and that I should try to get some rest, but that I was going to have to go through labor all night - she would be back by 7:00 a.m.

We got checked into a labor room at around 12:30a.m. and stayed up until about 1:00a.m. I was in really bad pain, but I thought I could sleep through some of it. By 3:00 in the morning, I understood why most women take an epidural. The contractions were every two to three minutes and they were incredibly painful. By 5:00 a.m. I could no longer do it alone and woke my husband up and told him that he needed to hold my hand and put pressure on my back if I was going to get through this. You may be wondering how someone can be so detailed with remembering time, but when you are counting down the minutes until you hope your pain will decrease, every second is memorized in pain. I told him that the nurse said that Lori would be there by 7:00a.m. and that I could make it for two more hours. It was dreadful, but I made it until 7:00a.m., by 7:05a.m. a new nurse came in and I said that I am in a lot of pain and pressure, and I am starting to feel the need to push- I want to be checked. The nurse got Lori, Lori checked me and saw that the baby's head was already there- and was shocked that my water didn't break, she broke my water and I had to push right away with the first contraction.

Ted bought me a beautiful present thanking me for carrying his son into this world. It is the initials of both of my kids:

By 7:37 a.m. little Liam made his presence known to this earth, weighing six pounds and fourteen ounces, clocking in at nineteen and a quarter inches tall (Evalyn was twenty-one inches tall) and with a sandy blonde/brown hair with red highlights. Lori and the nurses laughed at me because I was apologizing for cursing and for screaming too loudly - they all said that Liam's mommy was a champ. It has only been three days since Liam was born, but let me tell you -- two kids without epidurals -- if and when we have a third, I think I might just cave in! Anyway, next thing you know Liam is rushed through a battery of tests to make sure he is healthy because he was born early - and sure enough Liam is perfect in all respects, just like his daddy -- Ted would say.

Liam saying "Hi" to the world:

So, I shocked Ted when I told him Friday morning at the hospital (we came home Friday, by 10:00a.m.) that I had to make a cake tomorrow for my blog. He said "we'll see honey". But I felt like I needed to keep some routine the same in my daughter's life. Making a cake every week, since Evie has been old enough to help, is something that Evie and I share. Even if the cake ends up looking terrible or tasting funny because of it- this is my special time with her, and with a new baby brother in the picture, which she is attempting to bond with, but is struggling like all toddlers would, I want to make sure I am still giving her, her special time with Mommy.

Indeed we did make a cake, a quick one, but we did it, and we did it with one of Evie's favorite fruits- the currant. The cake, Currant Bars with Spiced Apple Syrup called for 3/4 cups of currants, a cinnamon stick, and 1 and 1/4 cup of apple juice to reduce down to a syrup to be drizzled on top of the cake. The cake itself called for currants, flour, baking powder, butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla. The cake smelled heavenly, was golden brown, and Ted loved it. I told him that it was his father's day present from Evie and I.

Here is my cake:

Here is the book's cake:

Fortunately, I also made him a scrapbook for Father's Day, that arrived on Monday- so I was able to give him that as well. Other than that I told him that Liam was his Father's Day gift- and that he was welcome :) . Honestly though, for Father's Day, I plan on telling him that there is no one else in the world that I would want to raise our kids, that he is the most incredible man and father that I have ever known, that his daughter adores him and that his son will too.

Daddy we love you!:

Cake # 76 Hot Espresso Cakes

If I do not post on a Saturday -- you know something is up. Well what can I tell you besides that I have the most interesting pregnancies according to my midwives? First let me tell you all that this is not the first time that this has happened. With my first daughter, on Friday the 12th 2010, I went to my OB for my 38 week check up, as my midwife checked the baby's heart rate, she said to me "Oh, you are having a contraction- have you been getting them frequently?" I said, "That is a contraction? I just felt like my stomach has been tight for the past week." She thought it was interesting that I wasn't in more pain, but chalked it up to Braxton Hicks.

She wasn't going to give me an exam until my husband said, "My wife was 2 cms dilated at her 36 week check up two weeks ago, and at her 37th no one checked her, maybe we should check her just to see where she is." So my midwife, did an internal exam and all I heard from her mouth was "OH MY GOD." Of course, being first time parents, this comment freaked out me and my husband. She looked at me and said "You are 7 cms dilated, and you don't feel any pain?" She got another midwife in to check me as well, who confirmed how far along I was, the baby was in position and ready to go.  I thought that I should have been in more pain, so I said "So do I go home and wait until the contractions get stronger and come back tonight or tomorrow?" My midwives looked at me and laughed and sent me straight to the hospital.

By 5:00pm I had checked into the hospital and called my family. By 6:00 p.m. I was 9 cms and the midwife broke my water. At around 7:30 p.m. I told my family to leave because I started to feel uncomfortable. By 8:15 I started to feel the pain of the contractions and said I needed to push, and my baby girl was out by 8:55 p.m. 3 hours of labor and I had my baby girl.

So, needless to say my midwives said that they have never seen anything like that before and lovingly called me a "freak." 

I guess the "freak" has reappeared, because again at my 36 week ob appointment I got shocking news. And surprisingly, it was from the same midwife as last time, Jasmine! I went to my 36 week appointment this Friday and because it is also the GSB exam, I joked with Jasmine and said, "Last time you checked me at 36 weeks, with my daughter, I was 2 cms... I better not be 2 cms again because I need to make it until next Thursday when school lets out" Ha - ha - ha. Jasmine laughed and said, "Don't worry I will check you." Suddenly a very strong feeling of Deja vu hit me when Jasmine starting making a strange face and asking me to move up a bit. With a nervous laugh she said, "Well I can say you are not two centimeters...but you are three and a half." I think I threatened to hit her, a couple of times and all I could mutter was, "Are you kidding me!" I also said, "Jasmine this is your fault! Why do you do this to me every time!" Of course I was only halfway serious in my threats to her. Then of course I begged her to tell me what she had no way of knowing - when will I give birth? 

So because I am only 36 weeks, and that is still considered pre-term, I have basically been on self-selected bed-rest since Friday night, because I am really attempting to make it to this Thursday, which is our last day of school. But, I have been having Braxton Hicks with more frequency, so we shall see.

Anyway, due to the whole not moving thing, Ted graciously made the cake of the week yesterday night. However, because we were in frantic mode at the house, boiling bottles, setting up the bassinet, cleaning baby clothes, cleaning the house, the cake did not get made until very late last night and by the time Ted had finished that after all of the other million of chores I gave him to do - I was conked out asleep and could not write the blog. 

So Ted appropriately made Hot Espresso Cakes, which will be a good choice as he will need to stay awake to deal with me, Evalyn, the house, and the arrival of the new little bug. The cake called for butter, flour, baking powder, cocoa, light brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, espresso, coffee sugar crystals, cornstarch, and light cream. To me, someone who hates coffee, it sounds disgusting, Ted said that the cake he made was really good, but he burnt the sauce on top and that the sauce tasted gross. (I think the cake he made looks gross itself...) However, he is happy about the caffeine content- which is something that he is sharing with my daughter the past two days, who he has been responsible for feeding . . . and let me say she has eaten more cookies and snacks and cakes these past two days than she has in a whole month! And he wonders why she is off the rocker crazy. But, I love how hard Ted is trying to prep are for number two, and how bad can a couple days of a cookie diet really hurt?

Here is the book's cake:

Here is Ted's cake: 

I have a strong feeling that this time next week, I will be toting a little one at my side. Wish me luck, and pray that I can at least make it to full term, which is next Saturday!

Cake #75 Warm White Chocolate Macadamia Ring

Only four and a half weeks left to go until I get to be a mommy all over again and the acid reflux and indigestion that is plaguing my system is an ever present reminder of my approaching due date. I do not understand how my father deals with indigestion and acid reflux on a daily basis – it certainly isn’t cute Prostrate cancer isn’t cute either, but it is another ailment that my father has to deal with. His surgery is this Wednesday and where words do not suffice, cake always does.  So this week’s cake was in honor of my daddy: the father, the pop, and the nut.

Every daughter looks up to her father as her “hero”; I was no different.  My father is a looming man of well over six feet with large muscles and calloused hands. So growing up, it wasn’t hard to imagine that my daddy could defeat any bad guy, fix anything that was broken, or ease any hurt. When I was a child, he would stomp into my room bellowing “Fee Fi Foe Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!” I would scream and pretend that if I was still enough, he wouldn’t find me hiding under the covers of my bed; he would pretend that he couldn’t find me. I have a lot of memories that I associate with my daddy, the hero.  I remember seeing him take down many adversaries in nail-biting arm-wrestling contests. I remember him winning a strength contest for his grip at a carnival game. I remember when I broke my front tooth; he was able to work his magic to get me in the dentist’s chair the very next morning to fix it.  I remember him scooping me up in his arms, like I was air, when I was thirteen and I was bitten pretty severely by a dog. I remember every Valentine’s Day he would wake me up in the morning with a box of chocolates just from him. I remember the first boy who broke my heart and the card my father left on my dresser that slowly began to mend the pieces back together.

My daddy walking me down the aisle. 

Now that I have a daughter and soon to be a son of my own, my daddy, who is still my hero, has become a superhero in his own right as “pop”. He was the first person to feed my daughter solid food, a banana, which to this day is still her favorite thing to eat. Whenever we visit pop’s house, Evalyn has a routine with pop of sitting on his lap and looking at a book of birds and then wearing straw hats and leis. My daughter can expect a wet belly full of raspberries if she ends up in her pop’s arms. Pop even took her on her first carousel ride in Florida. I know that he will be the same goofy, fun-loving pop when Liam is born.

Evalyn and Pop on her first Halloween.              

     

 Evalyn and Pop on her first trip to Florida.

Even more than being a grandfather, I truly relate to my father because of his . . . nutty side. Besides, the fact that we both love to snack on all types of nuts, we both have a lot of similar nutty traits. For example, we both are extremely hard-working to the point of an addiction. We take our work home with us, we can’t stop talking about it, we basically drive people insane with how much we stress over work. We both can get a bit . . . snarky when it comes to other people ruining our stuff. I am recalling the time my dad threw out a boy from my house, and told him to never come back, because he was playing rough with my dad’s pool table. Just yesterday I freaked out a Ted for a whole half hour because he ruined one of my shirts in the wash – at least I get to blame it on pregnancy hormones. 

So, I chose this cake, the Warm White Chocolate Macadamia Ring, because it is sweet and warm like my father, but also is nutty, like him too. Besides white chocolate and macadamia nuts, it was made with flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, baking powder, milk, and light cream – and I guess to be truly corny- a lot of love, memories, and wishes for a successful surgery.

My cake:

The book's cake:

Love you Daddy- now go and eat some cake!