The Lala "Oopsy" Cake or The Cake Blog Reject: Part 1

What they say about the shoemaker's family is true.  Although he may put out a fine pair of shoes for any customer, his own wife and kids at home have holed shoes, or perhaps none at all.

In my case, it comes down to birthday cakes.  Of course my kids have to have them - they look forward to their birthdays every year.  Little Miss has been planning hers for months, and the plan has changed several times.  Each time, predictably, the cake is extensive.  So the day she came screaming out of a certain aisle at Walmart, jumping up and down about these strange dolls called Lalaloopsy, I knew she'd finally found something she'd stick to.

So I decided I would surprise her with a Lalaloopsy birthday cake!  Great idea, right?  Not right.  Even though I researched how other cake decorators secured the large cake-filled heads on their itty-bitty necks, I was unaware of the challenges I would face the night before the big day.

First, let me explain how much Little Miss loves these dolls.

One night I had to slip into Walmart to pick up a few baking supplies (butter is significantly cheaper there), and she decided to grab her pretty change purse and check out the toy section.  She ran straight to the Loopsy Dolls to pick out the one she wanted.

Now I am proud to say I have a very smart girl.  We counted out her money and she had nine dollars.  I explained the three prices of dolls in front of us and that none of them were nine dollars.  She would have to decide which one she wanted and save up her money to buy it.

She stared at those dolls, and slowly crossed various ones off of her list.  She didn't like the hair on this one, that one was a boy...but she realized the more accessories that were in the box, the more "spensive" it was.  So she finally made her choice.  She pointed to the $19.97 Loopsy doll.

"I want to buy that one," she said, and then pointing over to a more expensive one, said, "And you can get me that one for my birthday."

Wow.  Okay.

So she washed out the fridge in the house and the fridge in the shop, and she searched the couch cushions and various places she stashed coins, and low and behold, she "earned" the necessary $10.

I took her back to Walmart, and she took the doll happily off of the shelf.  While walking to the cash, she takes the box in both hands, looks into the face of the doll and gives a crazed, guttural laugh like she could eat it she's so happy.

"I just can't believe I'm getting this." she says quietly.  And she takes it home and now sleeps with it every night, box and all.

So her older brother and I get to work the week before her birthday to make a cake that looks like the more expensive doll (the one hidden under my bed).

But I'll talk about it more next time....meanwhile, here's a sneak peak.

Does God or Santa Bring the Gifts?

This morning after the church service, an older couple wanted to ask our children if Santa had come. They quietly questioned me beforehand on whether Santa was taboo in our house. Many parents in our church do not focus on Santa, as Jesus is, of course, the real reason for the season.

At our house, we love the Santa game, but the celebration of Jesus' birthday, and subsequently, the power of God, is even more real. Little Miss has it all figured out:

She rips open her stocking. With a sharp intake of breath, she cried out, "I got what I wanted!" and held up a small toy. "God must've told Santa! He must know him!"

"Oh, yeah." I said, "God knows everybody. How do you think he told him? A burning bush? An angel?"

"An angel," her older brother said, and looked down, focusing on his toys again.

But Little Miss exclaimed, "He knows his number!" and made the telephone hand gesture against her face.

******

So Little Miss knows who to ask for things, whether a small toy or big need. He will always provide, and will use any means necessary....even Santa!

Be blessed this Christmas - I know we are!

Our House

The first time I saw what is now our house, I said, "Ugh, it's yellow, keep driving!" And we drove on. But our real estate agent said we'd best check it out. I think she knew it was all we could afford. And Mr. Man could actually stand up in it.

Nobody had actually done anything to the house in about 15 years, and it was falling apart. The bank had foreclosed on the house from the previous owners which made it sell at a low price, but, oh, the cost of taking it on! The bushes were growing over the front door, the porch was rotted through, the back mudroom smelled of cat pee, and everything was SO DIRTY!

And, to top it off when we went to move in we discovered that during the showing, an area rug had been put down to cover up a bald patch in the staining of the wood floor. Hours of work that we hadn't counted on.

So why did we buy the house? A big, beautiful backyard, and three cheerful crabapple trees. It was a secret garden amidst a ramshackle dwelling. The pixies were there, they were just asleep!

We have been here eight years, and like so many other home-owners, there are projects that have never been quite finished. Unpainted trim, mismatched door handles, and that one drafty wall that just never gets fixed. Things, I hate to admit, that will probably be left until it is our turn to show the house for a new buyer.

But, Mr. Man, his tool belt, his friends, and their tool belts, have done amazing things to this place. One bathroom (with no shower) has now become two and a half (with two showers); we now have two kitchens (one beautiful family kitchen, and one smaller, cute kitchen for the cake shop). The house has almost doubled in size, and the floors are all (mostly) level.

Yet, now as I look around the house I see paint that needs repainting, windows that need repairing, and a dog that needs...well that's another story. The upkeep never ends. The kid's toys are strewn about, and their fancy drawings cover every inch of the fridge and bulletin boards. Our secret garden has turned into a jungle of bicycle helmets, Tonka trucks, sandbox toys, and broken sports equipment.

But isn't this what we signed up for? To fix up a house and then to live in it? Pets, kids, accessories...all of life's wonderful messes!

I can still see the pixies behind the bushes; the treasures beneath the toys. We live in a happy house, a noisy house, and a well worn house. And I don't even mind the yellow siding...much!

Rools for Lily

Mr. Man and our son have been making a go-cart together every Saturday for the past few months. Although there is still a ways to go, our little man woke up this morning and decided that there need to be a few rules laid out for his little sister in regards to his future go-cart:

This is what we found on a tiny scrap of paper:

all of Lilys

rools Lily

is not to brac

it and not to

krash it and

no pocing holes in

the wHeels

Punctuation is not high on his list when it comes to writing, but I think we get the idea. Serious stuff...