Friday, December 16, 2011

Lessons learned on cookie day.

Every year I have a cookie day. Well, I have two. One that is mine and mine alone (usually) and another with my whole extended family.  Today was my cookie day.  As I was leaving work yesterday I ran into my coworker Pam.  Here is our conversation:
Pam: You coming in tomorrow?
Me: No! I took the day off tomorrow to make my gingerbread people
Pam: Oh, that's fun! Do your kids help?
Me: Hell no! I want them to look really good!
Pam laughs hysterically.

I'm serious though.   I love my gingerbread people. They are my winter art project and I like to listen to sappy holiday music (Sarah McLaughlin Holiday station on Pandora) and decorate gingerbread and then wrap presents all on my own.
Today turned out quite differently.  Before I launch into the story, here are pictures of my now complete cookies, followed by lessons learned from today.

My ginger-people

Linzer cookies with caramel instead of jam

My swirl cookies

Lessons Learned
1. Never ever use force to get your four -year - old to take medicine she does not like
2. Caramel made out of condensed milk hardens FAST
3. Using dental floss to cut roll cookies is a great idea
4. Sometimes you just don't get your magical cookie day home alone

Lucy, as it turns out, has walking Pneumonia.  The doctor says it's a very mild case and she can pretty much do her usual stuff--we can just expect her not to be quite her normal self.  AND HOW!
So this morning, I approached her with her new antibiotic that she took yesterday and discovered it was "Duhschusting".  She ran away from me, covering her mouth and saying she would not take it.  We tried cajoling, bribes, threats of shots and back to the doctor. Nothing worked.  I thought about how at the doctor when she did her flu mist and other things she did not like, we just had to hold her down.  So that's what I tried. MISTAKE.  She spit it back out and proceeded to scream and cry for .... wait for it... 45 minutes.  I cried too.  In fact, she stopped crying for a moment when she heard me crying in the other room.  I felt like a brute.  A jerk. A rotten mother.  And she didn't even take it anyway.  In the end, I went to her and cuddled her on the couch and apologized and sneaked it into a small bowl of ice cream of which she ate every last drop.  I guess that would have been a better route.  We're all over it. She's happily rolling out play-doh as I type. 

I may not be getting the solo day I wanted. I may be listening to the Muppets sing Christmas songs instead of David Gray.  I may be catering to my baby girl's needs instead of my own.  I may have to forgive myself for being a freak show with my daughter.   But my cookies are made.  They look fine.  Lucy's helping consisted of licking beaters and sneaking sprinkles off the table. 

I have indeed learned some lessons.  And eventually my children won't even want to hang out with me while I make cookies. So I'll enjoy it while I can.  And next time put the tops on the linzer cookies before the caramel gets hard.

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