If I had time to blog ... which I don't ... I'd tell you about my son, Peabo. He somehow became a teenager overnight on me, complete with stinky teenaged feet and a compelling need to use (moderately) foul language around his mother.
That last part? Totally won't fly.
He wanted total world domination for his birthday. Again. He got this cool book called Rule the World: 119 Shortcuts to Total World Domination from his grandparents. Now he's well on his way.
I'd tell you about the cupcakes I made for his party: Martha Stewart's mint-filled brownie cupcakes. Not one of the kids liked them, except for my diva, but she likes brussels sprouts, so you never know with her. I'm still transitioning from the Big Get Healthy to the Big Stay Healthy, so I couldn't even try them. I was smart enough to bring a back-up cake to the party, though. Talk about over-prepared - I mean, who brings a back-up dessert to a birthday party? But at least all those brownie cupcake haters had something sweet and sugary to chase down their pizza and popcorn.
I also made Peabo cinnamon buns from scratch, and the world's most chocolatey brownies, also from scratch. My first ever from-scratch brownies. And homemade mac & cheese with chicken and ham and broccoli. It tickled me pink that my Peabo, who used to eat nothing but chicken nuggets and frozen pizzas, wanted a slew of homemade birthday treats. Needless to say, I made him everything he asked for.
If I had time to blog ... again, I don't ... I'd tell you about how the crazy dog is no longer satisfied with barking at my beautiful children but is also herding them and occasionally nipping at them, and twice left little bitty tooth bruises on my Peabo's thigh. This, after all my researching and training and learning to use a clicker and pretending I don't mind having stinky, oogy fingers from treating my dog with cut up hot dogs and chicken. We're now down to the last option, the one where I call the rescue group and suggest that we may not be the right family for this beautiful dog. They are investigating. But I think the upshot of it is, perhaps, that kids with loud voices and spectrummy tantrums do not work and play well with border collie. We are stressing him out.
We'll see how it goes.
If I had time, I'd tell you about the afghan I started knitting, with fat circular needles in a rich purple and olive. It's for a friend. I think she doesn't read the blog, but if she does, well, dear, it's NOT for you! (It is, but we'll keep that between the rest of us.) I made up the colorwork myself - the pattern was for a solid - and it's blending beautifully. Except that not having time to blog means I have no time to knit, either, so I probably won't finish it until 2015. If I'm lucky.
I don't have time, though, to tell you about it. Instead you get little snippets that are not particularly well thought out.
Better than not blogging at all. Right?
And now I'm going to bed.