Halloween (pity) party

I’m feeling really sorry for myself right now. No nesting urges. Just pity partying.

It may have something to do with being beaten out at delivery by my sister, who had the same due date (a full week from today). Darn it, if only I had been hiking the Y twice a week like her (I know!)—hello, I mean, if only I had been walking anywhere other than the house to the car more at least twice a week during the last 9 months….

Or maybe it’s because of an irritating project I initiated with Sage at 8:30 tonight. She was asked to bring 18 treats to her preschool Halloween party tomorrow. We got home late from visiting my new niece, Amy (not Lily, don’t worry), so the project got started way too late.

We decided to make pumpkin-shaped Rice Krispy treats. After using nearly all the marshmallows to make the first batch, which yielded a paltry 7 pumpkins, I realized we were in trouble. What other ingredient has the consistency of a marshmallow? I was even desperate enough to wonder if I picked out enough Lucky Charms marshmallows, would they possible melt down to an appropriate consistency? Right.

That brought me to wonder why in the world I was making 18 treats. There are only 12 kids in Sage’s class (she loves to tell me there are 6 boys and 6 girls), and probably 9-10 who come regularly. Does the number 18 include the teachers? Their kids? Their pets? It was then that I decided there was no way I was making 18, even if it had been physically possible at that point in time.

I set Sage to work making faces out of chocolate chips on the pumpkins while I made another batch (heavy on the Krispies and food coloring and light on the marshmallows). Just as I was finishing stirring, I looked over and noticed that Sage was picking off the chocolate chips we had just put on. “What are you doing?” I asked incredulously. “I want them to have ‘o’ mouths” was her response. The problem was that now that she’d endowed every pumpkin with an “o” mouth, the chocolate chips no longer looked like faces—rather a random sprinkling (due to preschool imprecision with locating the mathematical placement of the eyes, nose and mouth--whether “o” or other).

I know that kids’ crafts and projects just aren’t bound to look great every time. In fact, sometimes I have to reign myself in to not take control of the art projects I set up for Sage. (Like the Halloween foam project pictured below that Danielle coordinated--notice Sage's fluffy pink "pig" at the top.) But Sage's pumpkin Rice Krispy faces were intended for public viewing and consumption. And they looked like monster-alien pumpkins. Which I guess, is a Halloweenish thing. Even if it's weird.

Partly because the marshmallow mixture was hardening, and mostly because I didn’t have the energy to wage this battle, I decided to ignore her artistic license. Distract and conquer. I asked Sage to put the drops of food coloring in the marshmallow mixture. She successfully over-dyed the marshmallows with red (what kid can resist an extra squeeze or two of those tiny, squishy little bottles?), and when she picked up the yellow she looked a little guilty and unsure. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “This one doesn’t work.” “What happened to it?” I asked pointedly, recognizing the look she wore. “I put a sprinkle in it.” What? Sure enough, Sage had found a single sprinkle ball (from a cooking project several days past) that had escaped all my table wiping and Eliza’s hobby of sprinkle-drinking, just to be found and inserted by Sage in the tiny opening of the food coloring bottle. What a perfect fit. Perfect for sealing up the bottle.

My energy, patience and interest in this project and in helping Sage have homemade treats to take to her party were waning. As in, they were gone, and I was trying not to throw a fit. I pried the whole food coloring lid off with a knife, and ignored Sage when she said “What are you doing that for, Mommy?”

I pressed out the last few pumpkins—which were probably ½ as thick as the first ones I made—but hey, we made 16 total! Then I started cleanup, and I looked over to see Sage licking the ice cubes left in the tray. What a classic end to our project.

In Sage's defense, she's usually a great cooking and craft partner. Usually. But it’s going to be a long time before we attempt Rice Krispy pumpkins again. Like until I get Alzheimer’s.