Thursday, February 12, 2009

Burnt Chocolate Heart Lollipops: Mommy Made Them With Love!

Today I discover that is possible to sleep sitting up, and ruin a chocolate lollipop recipe. My chain of mishaps begins over night, when baby brother gets up and screams like Freddy Krueger is in his bedroom wielding an ax, ...six separate times. That's right, zombie mommy trudges into his room SIX times to comfort him. He wears me out until I break and do the unspeakable Super Nanny no-no. I take him back to my bed on blood-curdling scream number six, at 4 a.m. At this point, I know I am defeated. He smiles and cuddles up with me under the blanket. By five a.m., baby Bigfoot has slid down to my feet under the covers, and I awake with real tears in my eyes, frantic from a nightmare involving him smothered to death. I pull him up onto the pillow between Milk man and I, then I feel his tummy. He's still breathing, and smiling in his sleep. The knot in my throat sinks back down.

The day is a giant blur. Big brother's teacher calls me and confirms that it is safe for him to bring in chocolate heart lollipops for his class on Friday. It's a good thing she does, because I almost forget to make them. I decide to do it in the afternoon before dinner. By five p.m. I sit down on my favorite chair with Norman Whiskers on my lap, just for a minute. I'm so tired, and I feel dizzy.

In my dream, big brother and the princess are standing over me wearing long curly white wigs, like our forefathers. I'm on trial for something. "Mama, wake up! You and Norman have slept for hours! The clock says seven, zero, six!" Big brother starts hitting me with a gavel.
I open my eyes, and discover that it is in fact, suddenly dark outside. Mr. Whiskers is still out cold on my lap. "Seven, zero, six?" I sleepily wonder what these random numbers mean. Big brother and the princess lean over me, looking forlorn, minus the George Washington wigs.

"Mama, you forgot to feed us dinner. I'm hungry." The princess is whining and rubbing her tummy. That's when the numbers attach to a meaning in my brain. It's past 7 o'clock at night, and I've slept for two hours. I leap up and run to the kitchen. I have a million things to do.

I decide to make macaroni and cheese, melt the chocolate for the heart lollipops and get all three children dressed for bed at the same time.

The dog is biting my heels; she wants to be fed too. I run around the kitchen clanking pots, pouring cheese and chocolate.

"There are 23 students in my class, so you have to make 23 lollipops," announces big brother. I only have three molds. I decide to make 15 lollipops, then keep the chocolate warm on the stove while they set in the refrigerator, and make the rest after those are done.

I'm sliding the princess' legs into her pajama pants when she screams in my ear.

"Why did you do that?!" I scold her.
She's shrieking: "Mommy! There's a fire on the stove. Everybody has to GET LOW and GO!"
I turn toward the oven and see my pot of chocolate ablaze. I figure I have two options: grab the fire extinguisher on the wall that I do not know how to operate, or douse the pot with a bag of flour and turn off the gas. I grab the flour and dump the contents of a five pound bag on top of my commercial gas oven.
Now all three children are laughing. "Ha, ha! Mama you look like a ghost," says big brother.
"Boo!" adds the baby, in his deep little voice.

It's not funny. Now, my oven needs to be cleaned and I still have to make ten more lollipops, not to mention put the kids to sleep. This is not a good day, I think. "Who the hell ever heard of burning chocolate?" I complain and swear at myself as I pile the children into the car at 8 p.m. to get more at the store.

The pot ends up in the garbage pail, a casualty of St. Valentine's Day. The kids go to sleep, with books read, by nine, but it's close to 11 p.m. by the time my stove is clean again. All the lollipops are wrapped with cheerful tags attached. I crawl into my bed thinking that all I really want for Valentine's Day is for the baby to sleep through the night. As I fall asleep this Black Eyed Peas song is stuck playing in my brain:
"Where's the love, y'all?...Yo! I don' know!... Where's the peace y'all?... Yo! I don' know!"
Somebody make it stop!


Louise said...

Oh, poor you. But you make it all sound so hilarious! I hope you get some sleep.

Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

Colored chocolate actually burns very easily. My son got a homemade lollipop that didn't look too good, but I knew it was made with love, and he didn't care it was a little lumpy.

jenx67 said...

LAUGHING MY BUTT OFF. i was with you every step of the way. i thought only my kids screamed at night like freddy was in the room. i thought i was the only mother who forgot to feed her kids or take them to the drug store at 8 p.m. to buy something it would have cost me half the price to buy somewhere else if i hadn't ruined the first bath.

Loren Christie said...

Thanks Elizabeth, that must certainly be the reason why the chocolate burned, since I am SUCH a gifted chef and baker. :) And Jen, If you do the same thing then I MUST be a normal mom?! Oh, thank goodness. :)

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