How NOT to bake a pecan pie

Any time you see a needle nose pliers as part of a story about baking pies, you just have to know it can't be good.

To be clear, Jeff is totally innocent in this fiasco, except for daring me to tell the story on my blog.

So let me begin by saying, I don't even like pecan pie. But Jeff and my Dad do, so every year I make one for Thanksgiving dinner. And every year I learn a little more about how to perfect the pie that I don't eat. For instance, I learned early on to let the syrup mixture cool before mixing it in with the eggs, otherwise, the eggs scramble. This year, I tried wrapping tinfoil strips around the rim of the crust to keep it from burning.

Using pecans that were hand-picked by Jeff's Dad in Texas, this pie had potential to be the best one ever. Until I tried putting it in the oven while not wearing oven mitts. As I slid the pie in, my finger touched the shelf. Not long enough to burn myself, just long enough for me to over react and fling my hand away, bumping the pie, which was still pushed only half way into the oven.

As if in slow motion, the pie started to tip. I tried to save it, but could grab only a strip of the stupid tinfoil. Thick, gooey, sticky maple syrup poured out onto the oven door, and through the hinged opening at the bottom. It then cascaded down my cupboard doors, before pooling onto the floor, which of course I had just finished washing about 30 minutes earlier. The eggs - you know, the ones I didn't mix in until after the syrup mixture had cooled - scrambled on the hot oven door. Of course the pecans also were part of this delightfully messy mixture, working their way into the hinged opening, which is where Jeff was trying to pluck them from in the above photo.

I salvaged the pie crust, but other than that had to start over. Luckily, Bill had sent us lots of pecans. Unfortunately, I'd used the last of the maple syrup in the first failed attempt. So the second version uses regular Aunt Jemima.

And no, it's not a coincidence that I waited until after the pie had been consumed to mention this "little spill".

The anticipation builds

In the mind of a preschooler, Halloween is really cool, with all the candy and costumes. Thanksgiving, on the other hand, is just sort of the necessary evil holiday that's been added to the calendar to torment those who would much prefer to simply cut to the chase and celebrate the big one - Christmas!

While snuggling at bedtime on Thursday, his Thanksgiving meal barely digested, AJ had clearly drawn the conclusion that it was now okay to look foward to the next holiday. He announced, "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

This being his fourth Christmas, I realize he has so many to which he can compare it. But I have to agree. With the kids at the ages they are, I think it's going to be my favorite Christmas to date, as well.

Here, Maggie...

It was a bountiful feast for everyone this Thanksgiving, including Maggie.

When it came time to feed her, I scooped up a cup of dogfood, then asked Sydney if she'd like to give it to Maggie. Sydney was more than happy to help, so I handed her the cup and off she trotted. A few seconds later, I heard the sound of the food being poured into the bowl, so I turned my attention to other things.

And then I heard the sound of more food being poured in Maggie's bowl. I should have known. We'd recently filled the dogfood bin, which meant food was close enough to the top for Sydney to reach it. She'd reverted back to that old routine of picking up the food with her hand, placing it in the cup, and then dumping the cup into the bowl, all the while calling out, "Ma-gee! Ma-gee!"

Counting my blessings

What am I thankful for this year?

I could just let this picture speak a thousand words.

But I need to say more than that. Between work and some freelance writing projects, I've spent the last week somewhat immersed in the world of non-profits. And so after visits to places like Goodwill and the CHUM foodshelf/emergency shelter, I've been reminded of just how blessed I am.

I am thankful to have two happy children who are mentally and physically healthy. I am thankful that I can give them the food they need and put them to bed in a warm, safe house. I am thankful for my wonderful husband, my best friend, who loves me as much as I love him, and who helps me create a loving atmosphere in our home. I am thankful for our parents and family who taught us the important values and love of Christ that we are now doing our best to pass on to our kids. Likewise, I'm thankful to have been instilled with a work ethic, love of learning, understanding of money and sense of service. I am thankful for my "Mommy" friends: the ones who are at a similar point in life as I am so that our kids can have such fun together (while we have fun, too), and the ones who are a few years ahead, who inspire me with stories of their children's success.

Oh yes, and I am thankful that my kids let me sleep until 8:30 this morning. Life is good!

Happy Thanksgiving to all who read this and are among those I'm so thankful to have in my life.

New words

I'm a few days late in marking Sydney's latest verbal accomplishments. At 17 months, she's added a whole bunch of new words to her vocabulary. Unfortunately, only a few of them are understandable. Among the ones I can make out:

• Mine! (of course, she had to learn that one)
• Wow!
• Mow (mouse)
• Mook (milk)
• Duck
• Shoe
• Uh oh!

I wrote an article earlier this week about early literacy. One of the statistics I learned is that reading to your child 20 minutes a day, exposes them to about a million more words each year.

Having been asked to read "That's not my puppy" and "Hello Blueberry" about 5,000 times in the last few days, I wonder how many of those million words are simply the same words read over and over and over and over....

The three band-aid boo boo

AJ had a learning experience this weekend. While climbing and goofing around on the coffee table, he forgot to pay attention to how close he was to the edge.

From the kitchen, I heard a loud thud, followed by a crying preschooler. Note that I did not hear whimpers or whines. This was a full fledged cry, as in, he really hurt himself.

Somehow, despite starting out on top of the table, by the time everything hit the floor, AJ's finger ended up underneath the table. I'm sure there's a law of physics to explain this, but as a journalism major, I never had to pay attention to those laws. I picked him up and let him have a good cry.

"The table hurt my finger," he wailed. He had a slight cut, though not bad enough to bleed.
When the cries gave way to fakier whimpers, I asked, "Do you need a bandaid?"
"Yes," he quickly answered.
That's when Mommy learned an important lesson: always check the band-aid supply before offering one to a child.
Later in the day, while shopping, I picked up a box of Spiderman band-aids. Seeing them in the cart reminded AJ of his great wound. So when we got home, I let him have a band-aid. It lasted about 20 minutes before AJ pulled it off and announced, "Mommy, my finger isn't peeling." (It took me a while to figure out he meant that his finger hadn't heeled yet.)
The next day, he managed to scam both Jeff and me into giving him a new band-aid. It was about the time that I realized he was wearing two band-aids, including one on a finger that wasn't hurt, that I instituted a three band-aid limit for injuries of this (lack of) magnitude.

In touch with her inner cat?

The child who can go through several ketchup packets eating one french fry, now has a new quirky eating habit. Sydney suddenly wants a lot of milk on her cereal, and frequent refills of that milk.

For a child who is still far from mastering dexterity with a spoon, it's actually quite impressive to watch her drink the milk and leave the cereal behind. I hadn't paid attention the first time, and so gave her more, just to watch the process.

She begins by using her spoon somewhat like a ladle to drink some of the milk. She then tips up the bowl to drink the rest. She ends up spilling some of the cereal, but almost none of the milk.

I just can't wait to see what she comes up with next.