Cookie Time Tuesday

I am a fan of the cookie.

And, when I say fan, I literally mean that I can (and occasionally do) eat them as my whole source of nourishment for the day.

I think that if the Cookie Diet featured Tollhouse and Snickerdoodles I'm certain that I could lose weight, no problem.

But, as it stands, I'm like 96% certain that cookies are to blame for at least one of my love handles and part of my double chin (the rest is likely from pies, chocolates, and sugar infused coffee beverages).

I know you're not gonna believe this, but I really don't eat a lot.

I know, I know, all heavy people say that.

But, in my case it's true!

I really don't even eat a lot.

At least, not a lot of food.

But cookies, I kill cookies. Kill them.

As in, stop it with the oh-no-she-didn'ts because yes I did just eat an entire bag of Chips Ahoy all by my lonesome.

Before lunch time.

But, those days are gone (no really, they totally are. Seriously. I swear.).

I'm not the cookie monster I used to be now that I'm trying to lose 10lbs before Christmas live a healthier lifestyle.

Doesn't mean I can't still appreciate a good cookie from time to time.

Cookie addiction is not like alcohol addiction. You can have one and not totally fall off the wagon. At least I can. Usually.

But, even if I can't be trusted in a room alone with a cookie, doesn't mean you can't and it doesn't mean that I'm not gonna be baking the heck outta some cookies for the holidays.

Because I am. And you should too.

So, let's start now, because Tuesday is a holiday in my cookie lovin' book.



Tonight we tried a new confection, Cinnamon-Chocolate Chip Butterballs (Recipe found in Betty Crocker Christmas Cookies).

Ingredients:
*1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
*1/2 cup powdered sugar
*1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
*1/2 teaspoon salt
*1 cup cold butter
*1 cup mini semisweet choc. chips
*1 teaspoon vanilla
*1/2 cup powdered sugar
*1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Mix flour, 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon and the salt in a large bowl. Cut in butter, using pastry blender or fork, until mixture looks like coarse crumbs. Stir in chocolate chips and vanilla.



2. Use your hands to shape dough into 1-inch balls. Place balls on ungreased cookie sheets 1 inch apart.



3. Bake 6 to 8 minutes until set but not brown. Immediately remove from cookie sheets and cool slightly, about 20 minutes.

4. In small bowl, stir together 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1 teaspoon cinnamon. Roll cookies in sugar mixture. Shake excess back into bowl. Cool completely.



5. Eat up!



What I learned:
1. I probably used a little too much flour (I'm not a precise measurer) so I added a little water when I started to roll into balls.

2. Using my hands just didn't work for me. My hands nearly sealed themselves together. Use a spoon to moisten the dough some and then it rolls up easier.

3. If you don't have mini chocolate chips go ahead and use the bog ones, they work fine too.

4. Keep thieving baby hands away from the cookie plate and watch them like a hawk or else...



My favorite part about the whole video (which you may have missed because of my loud voices drowning his out) is when I asked him if he stole it and he says no, but then quickly changes his answer to yes.

I guess my lying-is-bad-you'll-burn-in-Hell soliloquies, though intended in large part for #2 (aka professional fibber), have made an impression on him as well.

Way to go Dumb Mom's parenting skills!

And, have fun baking!

Swagger *Addendum

We need to have a brief discussion about the over usage of the word swagger.

I’m sad to report that swagger has begun to go the way of other, once acceptable, terms like da bomb and tight. Sad because it truly had promise, but once certain members of society got a hold of it, they ruined it by using it to death and often incorrectly.

I think the main problem is that many people are confused about the true meaning of the word swagger.

Swagger, friends, is more than just an adjective, it is a personality trait, an undeniable element of ones persona, a way of life. Apparently, those with swagger hop up out the bed, and turn it on immediately (thank you Soulja Boy. Caution! This links to a ludicrous video that embodies the true essence of swagger, proceed with caution, you will be ashamed to get caught watching this crap, but I had to make a point!). You do not happen upon it accidentally, or attempt to channel it for the sake of one American Idol performance. You do not invoke swagger when you take a lucky game winning shot that you, to the surprise of yourself and all watching, happen to make. Swagger can not be encouraged, requested, or inspired; it’s kinda like sexy, you either have it, or you do not.

According to the Urban Dictionary, swagger is to move with confidence, sophistication; to be cool. Swagger is to conduct your self in a way that would automatically earn respect.

Operating with that definition I’d like to take this opportunity to provide all of the Ryan Secrests, Kara Dioguardis, Simon Cowells (seriously, Simon Cowell?), misguided sports announcers, trying to be cool newscasters, and failing reality show hosts with viable alternatives to the word swagger. Because, sadly, you have taken a perfectly viable word and turned into a never-to-be-spoken-by-any-true-swagger-owners cliché.

Instead of swagger please consider:
Confident
Sophisticated
Cool
Awesome
Fresh
Inspiring
Respectable
Amazing
Boldness
Brashness
Poise
Spunk
Mettle
Could go on for days, but I think you get the picture

Any of these terms could easily work in place of swagger. I would greatly appreciate if you would consider these descriptive words before using swagger to describe someone so that we may save what little street cred that is left of this word.

Thank you, Feamom for bring this bull crap to my attention (not a huge CNN fan previously and at this point I think I fully reject them, I joine Ashton, for the record).

This (another hideously embarrassing clip that I caution you against viewing) is the exact kinda crap that has GOT. TO. STOP.

Not that Obama is not a good example of swagger, it's that it doesn't matter.

Swagger/Swagga/Swag, however you want to say have all officially jumped the effing shark.

If I ever hear that word again, it will be too soon.

And, as a side note, how the hell did T.J. Holmes qualify as a swagger expert? He appears to have less swagger than my 4 year old.

Actually, my 4 year old is a darn good example of swagger. So, let me rephrase, he has less swagger than my pleasant, compliant, self deprecating, eager to please 7 year old.

So give me an effing break.

Swagger expert?!

Again?

#1 has perfected the art form of throwing up in his mouth.

Let me start from the beginning.

I'm on a new health kick b/c I'd like to end my life as Two Ton Tilly.

In order to do that everyone in the family has to change the way they eat b/c I'm weak, I have a problem, and I can not control myself.

So, in order to make things more interesting I've been trying to add some new vegetable entrees to our palette. Trying to spice things up, make dining exciting.

Apparently, they don't like exciting.

The eggplant was a bust, the squash was rejected, and the zucchini... well the zucchini is what led to throwing up in the mouth.

I ask them (OK force them) to at least try everything I put on their plates because they can't know if they don try it, yada, yada, yada. Just some leftover parenting advice from my days with Mimi and Papa.

As soon as I put the zucchini on his plate and slid it across the counter, the protesting, negotiating, begging, and crying (in that order) ensued.

I held my ground (another new technique I'm trying). I did not give in to the pressure. I even forced some into Hubby to make him (the resident picky eater) a roll model. I rolled out the chocolate chip cookie dessert in order to use it as a bribe.

And victory was mine, or so I thought.

He agreed to try one piece. He popped it in and began to chew.

I immediately noticed something was awry when the eyes began to water.

And then the gagging started and I watched as his cheeks quickly began to look like this.

For some reason he decided to run in place instead of run to the bathroom. #2 began screaming in an angry fit of disgust (he hates when people barf), #3 began to copy #2 (bad, bad, bad) and Hubby began to run in place himself fighting back his reactive barf response.

WTH? Must I do everything? I swear, these people are ridiculous. I efficiently ushered #1 to the bathroom where he proceeded to puke his 7 year old brains out for the next five minutes.

My life has gone to a strange place wherein I can be sober and still thoroughly enjoy my dinner (my biscuits, for the record, are DOPE!) while listening to someone call Earl in the nearby restroom.

Even stranger is the fact that he barfed, he flushed, and he came back to the table and proceeded to eat the remaining parts of his dinner. Who does that? Didn't even want to rinse the mouth out a bit, have some water, take a break? Nothing?

All righty then.

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch.

I did not require #2 to eat the zucchini. #3, the human garbage disposal, ate all of the remaining zucchini. And #1 vowed to never eat zucchini again.

And, just so you know, the zucchini was NASTY!

Mud

It is not my friend and I hate it.

The dudes think that it is their best friend and they love it.

So, we need to come to a meeting of the minds on this one, because I just did something I never do, something I hate to do.

I just gave a midday bath.

I know, crazy huh?

I guess I should have known that the park would be muddy, and the slides would be wet, since it rained for about 16 hours straight yesterday.

But, the weather today is amazing, and school is out, and the kids were driving me cuckoo (by 8am), so I went ahead and set up a play date at the park.

And, Girly Mom (what I'll call my friend who has daughters) was all for it. I'm not sure that I would have listened, but she didn't even try to talk me out of it.

So, off we go for a play and a picnic at the neighborhood park. Hooray!

And, when we finally got there the place was disgusting. Every slide was wet, the swings were hovering above murky puddles, and even the grass was peppered with mini mudslides.

What's a girl to do? I have to let them play, of course.

I encouraged them to stay out of the wettest parts. I cajoled them away from the deepest puddles. I steered them towards the driest play equipment. But, alas, it was for naught.

The three of them (along with our Girly friends) were dotted with mud and grime after only a few minutes of play.

Which was okay (not really, but whatever) for the most part. They were having fun, they were not fighting, at least not as much as usual, and I was talking to grown ups. Hooray, again!

And then, #3 somehow (somehow being #1 & #2 tussling) got knocked flat on his back in a puddle, where he squirmed and flailed about, unable to free himself while I made my way over to retrieve him.

It was in his hair, his shirt, his pants, his socks, and his shoes. And for good measure, he rolled over on got some on his nose.

Ergo, the midday bath.

On a positive note, midday baths lead to something I love: nap time. Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!