Three Kid Circus : Gonna Fly Now

Friday, October 01, 2004

Gonna Fly Now

The height of humor: "Gonna Fly Now" from Rocky to wake me this morning. There is nothing better than rising triumphantly from bed, throwing a few roundhouse punches and then pretending you are running up the stairs while your children laugh hysterically. AND having a cup of coffee already waiting. Sometimes, the hubs just has all the right answers.

Sleep was better last night. I tried the forehead trick, and it worked! Of course, I sort of jabbed as opposed to rubbed, because she dropped immediately, like the proverbial sack of potatoes, and she slept from 10 pm to 5 am, which was a major improvement. (Kidding! I would never jab at my baby. Unless she wakes me up at 2 AM. Kidding!)

I left the big girl and baby at home, and took my son grocery shopping last night. We had a really good time. It's been a while since it's been just the two of us, and he spent the whole time singing, making up songs about cantaloupes and paper towels. I'm a middle kid too, and I know how frustrating it can be to always share. He absolutely glowed under the constant attention, and I returned home refreshed instead of gripped by my usual on-the-verge-after-grocery-shopping mania.

We did the high speed jaunt to school this morning. Despite my peppy wake-up call, I had left lunch packing and clothing selection to be accomplished this morning. Lucky for me the kids weren't picky this morning. Still, it took me every last second to get everyone dressed, fed, gather all the scattered necessary goodies and get out.

The walk to school was wonderful. Our morning fog is back, and it was fabulous to feel the sting of damp air on my face. My big girl was pirouetting and leaping all the way (her bike has a flat and I was running too late to fix it) and my son was oohing and ahing about all the flowers and rocks and trees along the way. That boy loves him some nature. The baby sat quietly in the stroller and did her suck-thumb-pull-ear comfort routine. Even the dog was mellow.

Back at home, I decided to make chocolate cupcakes. We have officially entered what I like to call "My Birthday Month" and technically, it's my dad's birthday today, so cake is in order. My son helped me measure out the ingredients and for fun, we set them out in little ramekins. Ooh, that just rocks my world. It makes me want to extend my arms stiffly down my sides and then swing them up to clap in front of my chest while chanting "Ready, O-KAY!" like the cheerleaders I secretly watch on ESPN2 at odd hours of the day. I really like how they emphatically nod their heads while they chant, and really really enjoy the alternating overhead arm thrusts, which invariably ends with a "Woo!"

I was never a cheerleader. I have no regrets, because I couldn't have kept a straight face. Or I would have gone the way of the SNL Cheerleaders:
Craig: Are you a Spartan?
Arianna: I think so
Craig: Are you a Spartan?
Arianna: I think so
(Arianna jumps into Craig's arms then he holds her upside down)
Craig: Hey! Who's that Spartan hangin' upside down ?
Arianna: It's me! It's me!
Craig: I said who's that Spartan hangin' upside down?
Arianna: It's me! It's me!
Together: Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh! Whooo Spartans!

Where was I? Oh, yes, making cupcakes for the Birthday Month Kickoff Celebration. With the help of my son, we dumped ingredients from the ramekins into the Kitchenaid and quickly had some batter. I refused to allow my son to lick the beater because of the raw eggs. I gave him some toast with Nutella on it instead and shooed him out of the kitchen so that I could hide in the corner and bury my head up to my neck in the mixer bowl, allowing my tongue to get every last drop of batter. With the cupcakes in the oven, I'm kicking back with a cup of coffee, waiting for Salmonella to strike me down.

Why not make a regular cake, you ask? Well, for one, cupcakes are tiny. Practically calorie-free, and therefore guilt-free. I mean, you can't put all that much frosting on your average cupcake. You can just pop the whole thing in your mouth. Well, practically. And if you eat one that happens to be deformed and therefore difficult to frost, it's natural selection. Also? It doesn't count towards the total number eaten. I figure that three cupcakes is equal to one slice of cake. No, no. Sssh. Do NOT burst my bubble. It's BIRTHDAY MONTH and I willna allow it.

The beauty of making cupcakes on my Dad's actual birthday is that he is also on a plane for Hawaii with my Mom, right this minute. So I can say "Dad, I made you cupcakes! Dad? Dad? Oh, that's right. You're in a posh resort on Lanai, so I guess I'LL have to eat your share. Happy Birthday!"

So - let's get out there and eat some cake. And do some cheers. And relive some Rocky Balboa moments. Because it's Friday, people.