Dramedic Cake Adventures

This is the cake that I wanted to make Jack and Christian for their first Birthday. It's from a Martha Stewart Baby magazine I bought like 9 years ago.

Sailboat Cake- This glossy sea of dreams is made to delight even the most land-locked little boy. Fluffy icing, tinted the gentlest blue, is scalloped into waves around the sides of a chocolate cake that's swimming with fish cookies. A homemade paper sailboat crests the frothy waves of the cake's surface

Caitlin Flanagan hit the nail on the head when she said, "I fall mute and wondering at the pages of Martha Stewart Living."

If grown women had a fairy tale book, it would be Martha Stewart Omnimedia. Suspended in time and space on glossy magazine pages these images whisper of a beautiful world where fluffy icing is scalloped into waves swimming with fish cookies. But reading the instructions is a jolt of cold water into reality. Flanagan continues, "Much of the Stewart enterprise, of course, involves a certain level of fantasy and wish fulfillment, having to do not only with the old dreams of wealth and elegance but also with the new one of time. That many of Stewart's projects are time-consuming is in fact part of their appeal... " These projects always call for something obscure, and when the creations do appear in real life, the response is often along the lines of- why the heck did you spend so much time making that? I once handed these very Marthaesque invitations I had made out to a group of friends, and the first thing that one girl (who I didn't know very well by the way but was trying to be inclusive so she got one too) said was, verbatim, "Wow. You have waaay too much time on your hands."

The joy-killers are right. These projects do take an insane amount of time, especially when one has two sets of twins and the project they have settled on calls for four separate recipes involving a frosting tip and piping bag, blue and white sanding sugar, a candy thermometer, an inverted spatula, cake comb, meringue powder, good quality cocoa, and another set of instructions for an origami paper boat with a bamboo skewer. Honestly.

Flanagan says that people appreciate what MS does but nobody actually does it themselves! Nobody except.. well... dreamy quacks like me. A couple times a year I have to dive into one because I LOVE the magic quality that these time-consumers kick out (if you don't know what I'm talking about, go to Disneyland. Creating that fantastic hyper-reality keeps an army of gardeners/repair people busy. But they, of course, get paid for it.) Not that my kids receiving the cake appreciate it, my husband points out. That's true, and unfortunately our child care responsibilities are so demanding that any project I take on he has to shoulder too. I know they're turning ONE, not three, and they're not going to remember a lick of this. But still... I just have to make a Martha Stewart sailboat cake for them. Something inside of me, that sighing, romantic inner me propels me forward, especially after reading this pitch penned by MS staffers: "take a moment to recall your own childhood birthdays. Ask around and you'll discover that for most people, it is not the guests, the place or even the presents that are remembered, but rather the birthday cake. Made by a grandmother, aunt, or parent, a special cake is well worth the effort... it will foster memories that linger for years..." Wow, super syrupy and probably about as true as a happily ever after ending, but I want to believe that the magic and love of a fancy cake will lift someone. Jack and Christian only have their first birthday ONCE IN THEIR LIFE, and I wanted it to be memorable, even if they couldn't remember it. So as irrational as it was, there's no way anyone could talk me down from the ledge.

First stop is the well-stocked Ralph's supermarket, but unfortunately, I discover that sanding sugar, meringue powder, cake combs and inverted spatulas are not to be found. As I'm searching, Caleb and Julian put the entire contents of the baking aisle inside my cart. Sorry Ralph's worker who had to sort out the huge pile of chocolate pudding, lime jello, organic rice flour and peach cups I stacked on top of the bagged kidney beans as I got the heck out of Dodge.

LA is surprisingly very non-craft friendly, even the Michael's in Santa Monica is pretty lame, although they do have cake combs and frosting supplies. Locating a sanding sugar outlet=an errand for Ian. I've already spent about five times what it would have taken to make a sheet cake and I haven't even turned on my oven. A less tenacious mother of two sets of twins would have called it a day, but unfortunately, I am extremely stubborn.

The next day I made the origami sailboats, and the next day I made the sugar cookie dough, with my two little helpers, and the next day, which was the day before the party, I cut the dough into fish shapes using a paring knife and which TAKES FOREVER!! Dealing with sugar cookies is such a mess because it sticks to every surface, even when I use tons of flour, and the dough keeps tearing around the edges when I try to cut it into shapes. Getting through all the dough really took a long time. I'd like to see these frustration photos in MS.

Flanagan said Stewart presents a vision of domesticity that involves as much make-believe as practicality, that is filled with allure and prettiness rather than the drudgery and exhaustion of which we are all so wary...

She's so right about the vision presentation devoid of drudgery. Cutting the cookies was drudgery, and so was shuttling the cookie sheets around to get them all baked, but frosting them was outright tricky. The royal icing, made of meringue powder, didn't want to adhere itself in straight, clean lines like Martha's fish cookies, but got smeary around the edges, and we can't have that magical look happening if the edges are smeary. Plus, my helpers wanted to be involved, so of course, my patience got tested beyond excruciating as they glopped icing on the table and constantly tried to eat it. Although I have to say, overall, they're very sweet and I am trying to keep the experience fun so I couldn't get too mad. After a few deep breaths I finally realized they were perfect sanded-sugar-sprinklers.


After the kiddos went to bed I got to work on the cake batter. This particular cake is a double layer square, and I didn't have two 8 in. square cake pans, of course, nor thought I would ever need a second square cake pan again in my life, so I opted to bake each layer one at a time. The problem was that I guessed way too low when I filled the first pan and wound up cooking too much in the second. It was very late, and after baking the second pan 40 min. longer than the longest recommended time, it still wasn't done so I slid it back in the oven and lay down. The next thing I knew it was 2am and the smell of something burning had roused Ian from a deep sleep. He rushed to save us all from death, which meant he didn't get up for his marathon-training run, which meant that he had to go in the evening instead, which made us all grumpy... this cake was really getting on everyone's nerves.

Despite the fact that I was way more organized that I usually am, there was so much to do the morning of when I looked at the clock as I pulled out the replacement layer, inexplicably there was only one hour before the party was supposed to start. I made the icing that required the candy thermometer, and it got stiff so fast I didn't have time to use the inverted spatula, so in a frantic scramble I just started throwing icing onto the cake with my bare hands. At one point Caleb came up to me and forgot what he was going to say when he looked at me. My eyes were wild, I had icing smeared all over me and I looked like clawwoman because my hands were three times their normal size.


Somehow I managed to comb the cake and stick on the fish cookies and slap on the sailboats. My icing wasn't quite as pliable as I think it was supposed to be, so it wasn't perfect (aargh!) but it looked pretty good.

It was ten minutes to go time and we still had to set everything up. Ian, who had been picking up balloons and tables all morning was begging me to get outside, but I still had to change out of being clawwoman. I told him that everyone is usually late and there was still time; I can't count how many parties we've done over the years where the first guest shows up 30 min. after start time. Except today. Saturday, August 22 wound up being so jam packed with other events that our first guest got there on the dot and two others arrived within five minutes. Everyone was very helpful though, which was perfect because I was frantically able to get it all assembled. But everyone also had to leave early, and so when cake time rolled around there were only about five people left, which was perfect irony. But it was also very nice because the moment was low key, relaxed, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit magical (despite the fact the fish were trying to take off).


Jack and Christian 'played' with their baby friends, and we also pulled out the parachute. The parents got underneath it in a parachute house for a minute with the kids, whose faces were squiggly with delight.





All in all it was a fun party, and a big thanks to everyone who celebrated Jack and Christian's special day with us. They're one! I never thought we'd make it through this year, but somehow we did with enough energy to spend a week making a cake. I'm still working on finding the balance between putting in a lot of effort into something special and finding magic on the fly. While we cleaned up, Ian told me that the cake looked really great. But later, the next day, he asked me if I could make a sheet cake next year. One last Flanagan quote came to mind:
"The Stewart fantasy encompasses the feminine interest in formal weddings and gracious entertaining, but principally—and more powerfully—it turns on a wistful and almost shameful attraction to ironing boards and newly washed crockery and (crazy-insane cake experiences). And on this wan longing, Stewart has built an empire."
I said I'd think about it. It doesn't hurt to indulge the wan longing once a year, does it?

Guess which babies are going to be on Courteney Cox's TV show?

A few weeks ago I was chatting with a mom from my twins group WLAPOM (West LA Parents of Multiples or "Oui La Pomme" as Ian calls it, which, coincidentally is French for "yes, the apple"). This mom told me that twins are very desirable for television work, even if they're not identical. She should know, because her kids booked multiple episodes on a show and they're a boy and a girl. I've never been very attracted to the idea of hauling my kids around to sit and wait at an audition, surrounded by hundreds of other hopeful moms about to get their dreams crushed, but when she told me that she's never done an audition AND all the money they made was set aside for college funds, I decided it wouldn't hurt to check it out.
Several weeks later out of the blue the agent called. Jack and Christian had been selected to attend a "paid interview" for Courteney Cox's series (in it's second season) Cougar Town. They wanted to talk to the moms to see how we were to work with, and the agent's assistant recommended bringing Baby Einstein toys for them to play with so they'd be fun and interactive. Three sets of twins were being interviewed and two sets would be selected to be on multiple episodes so the odds of getting picked were pretty good.
Oh. Ok. I hung up and wasn't exactly sure what my response should be. I chose: I'm not going to make a big deal about this. But then I wasn't sure. Shouldn't I at least try a little to have them get chosen? I vacillated between grilling myself on possible questions and what my responses should be (mental notes went something like this: make sure to tell them the boys were on a USC student film and they LOVED being on set, as did I!! Everyone was thrilled to work with us!!!!) and debating about whether I should give the boys a bath that day because I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. In the process, I was, of course, making a big deal about it.
When Monday rolled around I had a lot to do! I had to drive out to Van Nuys to the Board of Labor building (which is now closed the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Fridays of the month to cut the state budget deficit) and show the uncaring lady at the desk the kids' birth certificates so she could do up work permits. (It's for TV, whoopdee do she eye-rolled). While we waited I overheard batches of moms with sullen, extra-groomed kids in tow talking about how 'their agents should have faxed it in' and 'you promise it will be ready today? And what's your name?' I had to get Ian to run to the bank on the studio lot and set up a required Coogan account so our kids wouldn't be like little Jackie Coogan whose parents blew his millions and left him penniless when he grew out of his child stardom. Because after all, they could be making millions too. They could!
When we got home I bathed the babies, and then I thought about trying to trim Jack's hair so it would be the same length as Christian's. Ian told me that was way too much, so I tried to get his hair a little more curly so it would at least match more. (We were asked to dress them in matching clothes, but it wasn't necessary). I realized that I had a couple perfectly adequate matching outfits, but they were stained or shrunken a bit and I wanted my kids to look amazing for their first TV opportunity that would be the start of it all!
I rushed to the mall and bought super cute long sleeved shirts and matching overalls with a dog made of buttons on the front (it's for an interview for a TV show! I told the sales clerk. she nodded knowingly). The outfits cost more than the babies were making that day, but I didn't care. I had completely thrown my 'don't make it a big deal' strategy out the window because this had become a VERY BIG HUGE FREAKING DEAL. I hurried back, woke Christian up, dressed them both and headed over to Culver City for 'the interview,' my heart pounding and my palms greasy.
I pulled up to a huge set with hundreds of people milling about. The security guard pointed me to the 2nd Assistant Director. My guess is that she's in her very late thirties, but she looked much older. She was boney and her face was lined with stress wrinkles from a decade of running around on production sets. She smiled tightly and pointed me over to a grassy lawn where two women who were dressed alike held twin boys, also dressed alike. They were standing downwind from a grill that was churning out tons of smoke as it fed the masses seated under shade tents nearby. Somehow I had envisioned an air-conditioned room with couches and more attentive handlers. The other babies were dressed in well worn clothes, they were not wearing brand new outfits. This was not going according to plan. Then two other women, each holding identically matched baby boys, also in casual, well worn clothes, showed up on the lawn. As I was putting Jack and Christian in their stroller, the 2nd AD and another lady walked by and glanced at them, then headed over to the other moms on the lawn. I grabbed some wipes and scrubbed the babies' faces. As I walked up to the lawn the 2nd AD was asking the other moms if they could come tomorrow at 11 and 1:30pm. The other babies were pretty cute, and smaller than Jack and Christian, but my kids were definitely cuter. Let's get this started, I thought. Then I heard the 2nd AD say, OK, you guys can pack it up.
I haven't exchanged a single word with anyone yet, I thought. Must be some mistake. The other moms and I stood around and chatted for awhile and waited some more, they all told me they thought I was so brave to come alone... I was really wishing I had brought someone else with me so I'd be a little more together.
Then another lady told us, very loudly, we were done and it was time to pack it up and they'd give us a call with their decision. But they didn't hold my babies, I told her. They saw everyone and made a decision. We'll give you a call, she said.
WHAT?!? That was IT?? I hadn't even talked to anyone. Had anyone actually gotten a good look at my kids? So that glance back by my car? THAT was 'the interview.' And as I realized that the 2nd AD hadn't directed her question about showing up the next day to me...
In my mind, I know that this process is like going to the hardware store and looking for a particular size of screw- and Jack and Christian were not the 'size' or whatever you want to call it, that they needed for this show. The screws that don't get picked don't get mad or feel screwed, ;), they realize they weren't the right size, fill out their forms, and go home to set the table and check their email. In my mind I know this, but to my surprise, a huge sob was demanding to be released from my throat.
I never did get a call, and as the irksome silence sent me into a tailspin, I realized I had done a TERRIBLE job of making the whole thing no big deal. I can't believe I was thinking about trimming Jack's hair!! And I felt like the world's biggest dork for buying brand new outfits and making up question answers in my head. Oh dear, oh dear, my propensity to go the extra mile is good for some things, but definitely not for this.
As I started to drive myself crazy by replaying 'the glance' in my mind (if only I had someone else with me to hold the babies so they weren't in their stroller practically on the road, or if I hadn't been by my dirty car which I should have washed!) I realized how much I love being the one that gets picked and have exciting things happen to me. Don't we all. And I realized that there probably wasn't anything differently I could have done. I tried my hardest, I did my best, (to a fault?) and sometimes, or maybe most of the time, you just don't get picked. Living in Los Angeles means we're close to having exciting things happen, but in some ways we're just as far away as someone living in Nebraska. So. Ian and I both decided it would be best for our family if we didn't go out on anymore 'interviews'. It's just not a good fit for me.
As we joked around with the boys, and I put the babies down for the night and chatted with Ian, I savored our time together. While it wasn't my first choice, I'm glad that I don't have to worry about running my kids around, leaving Caleb and Julian at home, and being immersed in the child actor milieu on a bustling, crazy set on a show about divorced women getting it on. As the day revealed, even as I tried to be sensible, I shot all the way over to one extreme on the balance beam with such speed that I frightened myself. And for what? I thought, I'm really happy here, in my living room, with my kids and my husband. And this is where the universe wants me right now.
So yeah, some baby boys around 11months old are going to be on Cougar Town, but not mine. And the first chance I got, I returned the outfits. Figured I may as well save the money for the kids' college fund ;)

Our Week is a Complete Blur

I get asked a lot when my kids started walking, talking, getting their teeth in, etc. and I have no idea at all, which is incredibly embarrassing. I'm their mom and I have no recollection of them ever crawling or learning to walk! I was doing my Project 365 pages today and staring at a photo of us at Pioneer Day, thinking about how it was an awfully, awfully long time ago, a month or two at least, until I realized it was LAST SATURDAY!!
I know that we've got a lot going on and it's not important to be able to say exactly when my kids did this or that, but I do want to remember these precious moments that are fleeing faster than I can say 'it's going to be over before you know it!' (I get told that so very often it feels like my mantra! But it's frighteningly true!) When my kids start asking me to tell them stories of what they were like when they were a baby, I want to have a good selection of little slices of life to share, not a complete blank.
Scrapbooking projects have been my salvation for remembering/recording information now. I've gone a little overboard, bringing my camera everywhere and taking photos every time we go to the park, but I like that I have photos of my kids pulling themselves up, just goofing with their dad who they absolutely adore, laughing together when they run around in the kitchen and being with cousins, grandparents, etc. (of course, it would be awesome if someone took photos of me too, but that's another story...)
Making an album for my mom for her birthday was one of my funnest and surprisingly simplest projects ever since I had so many photos to work with. I loved playing with all sorts of snapshots of her and the boys, my siblings with the boys and just the boys on their own. It's fun to see how much life and laughter she brings out in them, and how very much they enjoy her. I used my Bind-it-all to slap the thing together, and the Sunshine line from Cosmo Cricket and that was just about everything.


I remember feeling so intimidated when I first started photo-scrapping almost a year ago, like I had no idea what I was doing or where to even start. I NEVER would have thought I could put an album together, or known how simple it was. I'm so glad I persisted. In the future when my memory of today is a blur, I'll just pull out one of the albums I'm working on now and tell my dear boys (with the helpful journaling tags, of course) just how amazing they were when they were little, and how that little piece of amazing will always be with them, growing just like they are.