Me and my bright ideas...

Seeing that my husband reduced the size of my Thursday night to-do list by leaps and bounds by his random act of kindness on Wednesday, I'm sure you think that I spent last evening relaxing on the couch with my feet up, right?

Wrong. Very very wrong. Although in retrospect that sounds like a fine idea. Instead, I got the brainstorm yesterday afternoon that I wanted to make a batch of whoopie pies to take to a Kiwanis picnic that we're going to on Sunday afternoon. I should say that it's been a year or five since I last attempted this, and a lot has happened since then to fade my memory. What was going through my head was that I had the luxury of some extra time since I didn't have to scrub the toilets, and wouldn't it be nice to have some super yummy whoopie pies to take to the picnic (or eat myself before then...I can't really say for sure how that's going to go).

As is the case with every baking expedition I embark upon, I started with a call to my mom. I should have known I was in for it by her response when I told her what I was planning on doing. "Oh Megan...." was what she said. As if to say, "Are you really really sure you want to do that?" I, of course, said that I was up for it and was actually kind of excited. I'm pretty sure she hung up the phone and said to Brooke, "Your Aunt Meg is a nut." But she was too kind to burst my bubble at the moment.

I should have also taken the no-nap two year old who greeted me screaming like a banchee when I opened the door as a sign that perhaps tonight was not the best choice, particularly because Jason wasn't coming home until late. But no. I pressed on.

I learned a few lessons. First, it totally matters in which order you place the ingredients into the mixer. I got it wrong on the first batch and spent the better part of 20 minutes cleaning 8 tablespoons of cocoa powder off of everything in the kitchen. How it flew that far I can't rightly say. I will also tell you that cocoa powder leaves a brown residue on things that lasts even after your kitchen counters have been officially scrubbed twice with cleaning solution and enormous amounts of paper towels. I also learned that two year olds who like to "help" (read: touch everything) should probably not be wearing white shirts when they're in the kitchen during such an event. I'm pretty sure we'll be forever retiring the adorable white Gymboree shirt with the green tractor on it because it is now mostly covered in brown spots. Since Joshua is not a dalmatian, it's probably not the look we're after for him. Finally, Saran Wrap is officially a tool of the devil. I'm convinced of it. It has no place in my home except for wrapping whoopie pies, which I'm now likely done doing until sometime in the 2020 range when I once again forget the ordeal it entails.

After 4 hours, I now have a nice container of approximately 24 whoopie pies to take to our picnic. Sadly, if you do the math on that, it took me approximately 10 minutes of my life to make every single one of those and I'm not sure they will be met with an appropriate appreciation for my sacrifice (or stupidity, however you choose to look at it).

I believe it's possible that this was my "nesting" instinct that is beginning to kick in pre-baby action. With Joshua I was a cleaning fool and had scrubbed the woodwork in our house more than 3 times in the month before he was born. I believe it's been done once since October of 2006. Sadly, I have no interest in a project like that now even though I know I should do it before it becomes really impossible. Maybe this time, I feel the need to bake. Who knows. All I know is that I had a chocolate kitchen and a chocolate little boy before the night was all said and done. Luckily, the madness (if it is pregnancy induced) should end soon--- 12 days from now if anyone's counting. And I am.

PS. Happy Birthday Nana! Have a wonderful day!