On cupcakes, craftiness, and me having neither right now

"Good morning Sagey!"

[grunt]

"Did you have a good nights sleep?"

"Cuk-kake."

"Cupcake?"

"YEAH!"

"No cupcakes honey, it's 7 AM. Do you want breakfast?"

"CUK-KAAAAAAAAAKE!"

I do not exaggerate when I say that lately the girls are entirely obsessed with cupcakes. Ever since Nate rocked that tray of them for Thalia's very important half birthday, all they want to do is talk about cupcakes, dream about cupcakes, bargain for cupcakes, roll around naked in cupcakes.

This morning, in an effort to cut back on TV, we hit flick'r to search for pictures of cupcakes. And like some horny adolescent who discovered his dad's "secret" bookmarks, the girls ooh and ahh and drool and clap and get just a little too excited over the dozens of photos of sugar and flour and mounds of neon frosting.

(At least there's no high fructose corn syrup in the homemade stuff?)

Then today on Tastespotting, the ultimate home of food porn, I stumbled across the single cutest freaking cupcake I've ever seen - Groundhog's Day Cupcakes from the most awesomely named The Food in My Beard.


And suddenly I feel like the crap mom who doesn't have the crafty genes to turn an Almond Joy and some crushed Oreos into a thing of undisputed caloric beauty - just the laptop to click and gawk at someone else's creativity.

The Valentine's cards we try to make suck, the Scotch tape in my gift wrap is always filled with dog hair, and Nate won't even let me near a pastry bag to decorate a cake. Heck, I can't even get in two straight pigtails on Thalia's head.

Don't tell me "You can do it!" either. Allow me remind you what happened the last time I tried knitting.

High fructose corn syrup contains mercury and other reasons I think we're going to start feeding our kids air.

Update: Scroll down for official response from Quaker. The other brands? Radio silence.


I just finished reading this post about high fructose corn syrup containing mercury (thanks Kalyn) and hot on the heels of the peanut butter recalls I am just about ready to throw up my hands in disgust and vow to start growing our own foods.

Although considering all the loosened environmental protections under Bush, American soil is probably a disaster too. Maybe I need to invent a way to make filtered air taste like chocolate milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches.

If this sounds all nutty to you--because it certainly does to me--The Ethicurean explains it all easy and simple-like:

How did the heavy metal get in there? In making HFCS — that “natural” sweetener, as the Corn Refiners Associaton likes to call it — caustic soda is one ingredient used to separate corn starch from the corn kernel. Apparently most caustic soda for years has been produced in industrial chlorine (chlor-alkali) plants, where it can be contaminated with mercury that it passes on to the HFCS, and then to consumers.

You can read the entire report from HealthObservatory.org or download the pdf that shows which brands were shown contaminated with mercury after a single random sampling.

A snapshot of the top of the list: Quaker Oatmeal to Go, Jack Daniel's Barbecue Sauce, Hershey's Chocolate Syrup (oh no!!). Further down, everything from Smucker's Strawberry Jelly to Coke Classic were revealed to have detectable levels of mercury in it. Mercury is toxic in all its forms.

This is madness.

Before we start storming the Quaker headquarters with pitchforks and torches, I want to say I can't imagine that these reputable brands will be anything but appalled by the findings. I'm interested to see how they respond in the coming days and weeks. But presumably the HFCS industry knows about this despite their "it's just corn!" ads, as Kristen points out. Is there any accountability there?

And more personally, I want to know how we even deal with this as parents. Do we stop buying Pop-Tarts and Yoo-Hoo because one sample contained small levels of mercury? Do we throw caution to the wind and hope that the FDA actually is looking out for our health? Do we call on congress to protect us despite the fact that sometimes those protections fall flat and hurt the wrong people? Or is this a big old caveat emptor-slash-libertarian situation where we are all responsible for our choices no matter what?

I'd love to know what you think.

It's just so hard to ask questions about the food we give our kids when we don't even know that there are questions to be asking.

I guess I just don't look at the foods in our pantry and think, hm, I wonder if any of these contain FREAKING MERCURY.

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Update: Just received this official response from Quaker's Candace Mueller. Huge props for uber social media responsiveness:

We have been following and reading your statements today regarding the recently published Environmental Health study on mercury levels in high fructose corn syrup.

We can confidently say that, yes, Quaker products are safe and continue to meet the high standards for quality and safety that you have come to know and expect from us for more than 130 years.

Based on our initial observations of the Environmental Health study, we are concerned that the methodology and assumptions relied on in the study are critically flawed and that their purported findings are insufficient to support their claims and to warrant alarm.

In that study, traces of mercury are recorded as parts per trillion. This is over 1,000 times more stringent than suggested food industry standards of parts per billion. In fact, public watch-dog Center for Science in the Public Interest's Michael Jacobson was recently quoted [in this article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune] as saying the study should be viewed in context with products testing at levels 30 to 3,000 times less than the amount of mercury found in fish and seafood.

We understand that consumers will still have questions and concerns, and we invite anyone to contact us by calling our toll-free hotline at 1-800-367-6287 or on Twitter @QuakerTalk.

Also, another good article at The Chicago Tribune

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Update 1/28:

I think you must all be about the thoughtful, smartest commenters on the planet - opinionated but never offensive. And not one "I know you are but what am I." I guess where I'm coming out on all this after a day of thought and consideration of all sides:

1. I'm going to read more labels more carefully. There are so many good alternatives to HFCS that we're going to avoid it where we can, particularly for my kids.

2. I'm not going to start giving up an occasional Coke or testing my kids for mercury poisoning every week. I appreciate that the amounts found in these products were minute.

3. I still remain vigilant that there should be no mercury in high fructose corn syrup when there are so many alternatives and when the HFCS plants have alternate methods of production. As one of the study's authors said, "This seems like an avoidable source of mercury."

4. I just can't buy the "buyer beware" school of thought entirely. That presumes all "buyers" have the same level of income, education and information, let alone access to healthy alternatives. (Oops, there go my liberal values again.)

5. I think this bears further study. The researchers are onto something and I'm not going to dismiss it outright. I suppose the results are not the end, just the beginning.

Everyone grows

This weekend we attended classmate birthday party number 674 of the new year.

Okay, so it was 3. Though as I hustled the girls out the door in their increasingly unfancy party clothes it sure felt like 674.

But then, a few minutes after arriving, something magical happened.

I didn't feel weird. I didn't feel awkward and uncomfortable, insecure or judged. What I felt was surrounded by friends.

Maybe it's just that over time, as our children get older and demand less of our attentions, we're starting to get to know each other beyond Hey, There's That Mom In Our Class. Maybe it was seeing one mother I like bouncing Thalia on her knee while I tended to Sage. Or seeing another one lift someone else's baby out of the Ergo carrier to give her a needed break. Even UberMom, who has kind of intimidated me to death from day one, was absolutely someone I could see grabbing a coffee with after class one day.

There was something beautiful and comforting about the 12 of us knee-to-knee in the basement playroom, watching our kids jump up and down to the music, feeding off each other's energy. There was something incredible about the realization that all of our kids really seem to like each other too, despite being thrown in an afternoon preschool class with little bonding them together besides year of birth and the ability to scrape together the tution.

Some in the group threw around the idea of a childfree "potluck" (oh God, how suburban does that sound?) and one of the parents pointed out that our date was the night before a school function.

"Is that too much school stuff in a row?" she asked.

"Nah," several people responded. "It seems just fine."

January 20, 2009, est 9:46 AM

My feelings exactly.

The end. The beginning.

All at once it hit me this weekend: A desperate, urgent need to attend the inauguration. A friend was kind enough to offer a spare ticket and the last 24 hours has been a scramble to try to get a train, get a ride, get someone to watch my two sick kids including the one with the double ear infection...

I've officially conceded defeat. And I'm a little crushed.

I worked so hard on the presidential campaign myself, and I felt like going to the inauguration would be this great culmination of not just the months of work, but the eight years of heartache that proceeded it.

It's strange to feel like progressive politics are "in" again. I've spent so long being the angry underdog, stocking up on President Poopyhead baby tees and driving around with a W=Not My President decal in the rear view window. You mean I'm going to look forward to the State of the Union Addresses? You mean I'm going to be the one with the framed photo of the president on my desk? It's like going from the counterculture to the culture, from the angry villager brandishing the pitchfork at the castle door to the guy on the other side of the door saying, Come on in, you angry villagers. Let's work this out. It's warm in here and the little lady just whipped up some mutton canapés.

It's weird.

It's cool.

And I suppose being in New York with my family tomorrow and a few friends I love isn't necessarily second best to being in DC in person tomorrow.

I've been struggling with how to describe the importance to Thalia, especially without getting into all the racial stuff that she doesn't need to know..

Well, this is a very special time when a very special guy will become the president, someone we're all hoping will make things better for you and your sister and everyone else in this country. And I want you to really remember this because Sage won't. And for the rest of your life people will ask you if you have any memories of the Obama inauguration. You'll say, "No, I was only three. But I remember mommy bringing me into the voting booth and letting me pull the lever until the little X popped up next to his name. And I remember how my parents were so excited watching the TV all day, and they got me an Obama shirt that I wore."

And then you'll tell them that you don't remember the swearing in much, but that you do remember thinking that there was something very exciting going on. And that your mommy turned to you and said, "Thalia, these are the beginning of the Obama years."

And you'll be able to say that, because you were only three, you actually don't remember anything else. You may have been born during Bush, but The Obama years were all you knew."

"Mommy," Thalia said, "you have some water coming out of your eyes right now. Right there."

Indeed I did.

Entirely random thought of the day

Oh lordy I am so remiss in posting these days. I've got letters to write to my congresspeople, Real Housewives of LA episodes to catch up with (OMG GRETCHEN), interviews to give to the man on the TV about the CPSIA (How cute is Sage on TV? Answer: Very.), a quick LA trip tomorrow, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it.

I'm swamped.

So I'll just leave you with a random thought of the day.

That Subway jingle that goes 5 dollar foot-long? Totally bothers me. I just feel like, when I think of sandwiches, I really don't want to think about feet.

Okay, in return give me your totally random thought of the day. The more random the better. Don't even pretend it has anything to do with anything at all.

Quit yer coddling, woman

I'm not a coddler. Not really. Well yeah, I gave in and let Thalia have cereal for dinner tonight. And we let her pick the midget Christmas tree. And yeah, sometimes I say okay, you can watch six consecutive Max and Rubys and go out in a blizzard without your hat. But overall, I try not to indulge her every whim.

Some of them. But not all of them.

This week I got an email from her school suggesting that I bring in treats to celebrate Thalia's half birthday.

Half birthday.

I balked.

Indeed, yesterday was Thalia's half-birthday. And I think that's pretty cute. Kids love saying they're ____ and-a-half, right? I don't mind acknowledging it. But is it really necessary to celebrate all the summer birthdays early so that our fragile little darlings won't feel left out of the chance to blow out a candle on a mini cupcake in front of the classmates whose names she doesn't even entirely remember yet?

I'm going to say no.

(Don't hurt me, coddlers!)

So, Thalia's birthday is July 6. So, she'll never have enough friends around that weekend to fill a jumpy castle. Sage, whose birthday is in May, probably will. But you know? Thalia will always have fireworks. And warm weather. And open beaches, parks and amusement parks for smaller celebrations. She can wear a sundress and walk around barefoot. She can eat ice cream with her cake in season. (Take that, Capricorns.)

I am in love with our school and Thalia's teachers. I don't think it's about them, it just seems to be a trend that you bend over backwards to treat every kid equally, even if that means celebrating a totally uneccesary half-birthday. Or playing little league games that don't keep score. Or giving every kid an award who runs in a race, even the one teeny little kid with the spazzy run who flails her arms and comes in like ten minutes after all the other kids.

(I can say that by the way because that pretty much describes Thalia.)

I think I get it from my own mom when I say that treating kids fairly doesn't mean treating them all exactly the same. That's my take.

Nate's take?

He's in the kitchen right now baking an inordinate number of cupcakes from a gourmet Barefoot Contessa mix, making cream cheese frosting that somehow incorporates a lavender simple syrup, and experimenting with food coloring shades for the perfect shade of pink. Also, loving every minute of it.

The things we do for the people we love

1.
Watch this 600 times in a row. Because apparently if you're three, it's the single funniest thing in the world. FUNNIEST. EVER! THERE IS NO EQUAL. Watch it with your own children and share in my misery.



2. Say snarky things about our friends who are going through a tough time in their lives. Well, not really snarky. More like...funny snarky? Click over to Cynical Dad to check out part 1 of the blogger roast for Tanis, the Redneck Mommy. Because if any blogger merits a roast, it's a mother willing to suck Redi-Whip right out of the can on her blog like some adolescent My Space whore.

And Tanis? I'm sorry I called you an 82 year-old Jewish man from Boca. I meant to call you an adolescent My Space whore.

After a mere 94 hours of deliberation, the cats have names

Okay you crazy cat-namers you. I'm am stunned at the response here. Was it the prizes? You're all secret Mariah Carey perfume fans? Or you all just really like naming cats.

In any case, the names have been chosen after much deliberation.

(And really, what in tarnation would ever make me think Nate and I could agree quickly considering it took us 8 months to figure out what to name the baby.)

Here were a few typical conversations around cat names that I had this week. Just so you know what I've been enduring here.

1.
Me: Thalia, what would you like to name the cats?
Thalia: Poop and Doop.
Me: I'll add it to the list.

2.
Me: Nate, we really have to name the cats. Did you look at the list on my blog?
Nate: I have to say, I'm actually leaning towards the person who wrote #8 and #8 Green.
Me: That was Christina's 4 year-old son.
Nate: Well, it's awesome. He has a future in comedy.
Me: I'm not naming our cats based on a possible punchline for a joke you will never write.
Nate: Why not?
Me: Just...no.
Nate: Think about it. They're great names.

3.
Me: Thalia, any new names for the cats?
Thalia: Maybeeeeee...Cat and Dat.
Me: Awesome.
Thali: I made a rhyme! Cat and Dat!
Me: Good job honey.

4.
Me: We're thinking of naming the brown one Chorizo.
My Dad: That's a terrible name for a cat!
Me: Thanks a lot. And this is from someone who named their fluffy white dog after a designer handbag.
My Dad: Well, we didn't know at the time. We named him after the country, Cuba. Where he's from.
Me: I told you right away about the bag.
My Stepmother: Well we had already named him by then. It was too late.
Me: And Fendi was taken.

5.
Me: Okay, I've pulled out a few that I really like.
Nate: And...?
Me: Eartha Kitt. A few people suggested it.
Nate: No.
Me: Kafka? Mrs. Kafka?
Nate: What about the people who suggested Taylor? Or Gibbs? Or Monk?
Me: For the Redskins? No. These are not your cats! They're for the girls! Church was kind of fun. Like Churchill?
Nate: How about Atheist?
Me: Sushi is really cute.
Nate: I would like it if they looked even remotely Asian.
Me: Yeah, they're kind of generic cats aren't they. I also liked either Pancake or Waffle - the kids' favorite foods.
Nate: Their only foods.
Me: Cheerios? White Rice?

6.
Me: You know, someone just suggested Fluffer.
Nate: Heh.

7.
Me: Okay, so we kind of have something for the brown cat. What about the gray cat? What's gray? Oh wait! I suddenly get the Dorian/Agnes reference. That's funny!
Nate: Grey Goose?
Me: Someone suggested Earl Grey.
Nate: Better for a boy cat.
Me: The Gray Lady...the New York Times. We could name her Maureen Dowd. Or Food Section.
Nate: Frank Bruni. Or Iamtheassholefrankbruni.

8.
Me: How about something Shakespearean? You know, in the spirit of Desdemona.
Nate: WHAT? That's horrible! A writer using a literary name. How pretentious! How stupid!
Me: But Nate, you're a foodie. You work in a restaurant. You want to name the cats after your favorite cured meat product.
Nate: What? Totally different. Not even the same.
Me: Right.

You can see what I've been up against.

In any case, I let Nate name one (what can I say, it grew on me) and Thalia name the other.

May I present to you...

Chorizo

(Sagey says 'Rizo and that's good enough for me. Plus it sounds like Riso which is indeed one of the girls' four foods!)

Pipi.

And Oh my God if it's not the cutest thing in the world hearing a 19 month-old yelling HI PIPI! HI PIPI! while chasing a terrified little kitten around the house - well, then I don't know what.

Now onto the prizes.

Ginrod takes it all.

I'm convinced that her suggestion of Pork led Nate to Chorizo (although he denies it). Plus after Thalia threw out Pipi, I checked the comments, and wouldn't you know it, Ginrod had that one too. She's like a cat-naming savant! Email me and we'll talk prizing. (And damn lady, do you have to live overseas? Sheesh.)

Thanks so much for the help everyone. You are all amazing. I'm almost thinking about getting another one just so you can name it. But not really.