Cole is going to hate this, but I don't care. I have to brag about how he is truly the best dad in the world. Cole was SO jazzed from the very second I told him I was pregnant with Ian. He was absolutely ecstatic to become a dad, and as soon as Ian was born, he gave fatherhood his all. He has ALWAYS changed diapers without ever being asked, and he was always happy to feed the boys their bottles when they were babies. Before the boys slept through the night, I got up with them during the week since I could catch a nap during the day, but on the weekends Cole would get up in the middle of the night so I could have two nights of uninterrupted sleep each week. (Yes, he did this without a single sigh of exasperation.) Cole stayed home for one week after Eli was born, and he did EVERYTHING while I took care of Eli and rested as much as possible to get ready for wrangling two boys on my own. He gives the boys their baths every night because having my hands in water that frequently makes them so dry they crack open and bleed. Plus, Cole is more than willing to watch the boys in the evening and do the whole bath time/bedtime routine by himself while I go to night class. He will also take long lunch hours to watch the boys while I go to class during the day and then make up the lost time in the evening. Any time he has a job to do at home, he gets Ian and Eli in on it, and the three of them TCB. The boys adore Cole. He is SO involved in every single part of the boys' care and daily lives. Cole is just amazing. I don't know of any other wife/children who have such an incredible husband/father. Cole is the poster boy of "involved" fathers, and I'm so, so, so proud that he is such an amazing provider for our family that I have the incredible opportunity to stay at home and raise our children without babysitters or nannies. I am unbelievably thankful that we are a "traditional" family.
So for Father's Day I wanted to let Ian and Eli show their appreciation to their wonderful dad by choosing their own gift. While we were discussing the plan to buy Cole a fire pit I asked Ian what he would like to give his daddy for Father's Day. Ian said, "Let's make him a cake!" I thought that was a perfect idea. It was Ian's choice, and he would get to help do something nice for someone who lives to please him. When we went to the store Ian chose a chocolate cake mix, chocolate icing, and blue sprinkles. He looked so adorable in the baking aisle. He studied the shelves upon shelves of cake mixes so carefully. I'm sure he was just overwhelmed by all of the options, but it looked like he was getting ready to answer the million dollar question on a game show. My plan had been to bake the cake while Cole was out golfing with his step-dad on Saturday, but they got rained out and the boys and I didn't have any privacy to create our surprise. Unfortunately, the weekend slipped by and we never did get the cake baked. But Cole isn't big on sweets or junk food, so I don't think it was breaking his heart. However, today we spent Friday morning in the kitchen playing "Cake Boss", and we had a fantastic treat waiting for Cole when he got home from work.
The Little Chefs
The cake mix only required three additional ingredients: water, oil, and eggs. I chose the biggest mixing bowl we have knowing full well that anything smaller than a horse trough was going to be too small with Ian and Eli in control. But I wasn't about to go to Rural King, so I settled. I measured 1 1/3 cups of water first. I thought, we'll do water first so he can learn to pour things into the bowl slowly and if it spills, oh well. However, I had a bad case of white knuckles when it actually came time to hand Ian the measuring cup. I did not want to relinquish control because I was fairly certain there was going to be a sizable spill. I was picturing a mess similar to that caused by Prymatt Conehead's water breaking. How quickly my mood had changed. One second I was a carefree super-mom who was going with the flow, and the next, well, the next I was back to the neurotic woman who secretly refolds all of the bath towels after her husband folds them because the thought of terry cloth not folded to her exact specifications makes her panic. Ian was bouncing around in a state of jubilation while my heart raced. "It's only water. It's only water," I repeated to myself. Ian kept saying, "I want to do it!" Finally, I worked up the courage to let go of the measuring cup and place it in the hands of a very excited two-year-old. I coached from beside Ian's chair. "Slowly. Pour it slowly." The first 1/8 of a cup trickled into the bowl while I proudly watched Ian obeying my requests. As soon as I was ready to praise him for being a good listener, he decided to act like a lunatic and threw the rest of the water into the bowl. I watched in horror as the water rushed up the side of the bowl like a tidal wave. It crested just shy of three feet above the rim and was going to break right on top of Eli. I envisioned Eli being knocked backward off of his chair in slow motion: limbs flailing and screaming for help as he was carried down the hallway by the tsunami. Due to some inexplicable force of nature, the water changed directions in mid air and slowly lowered itself gently into the bowl without a single drop landing on the counter. I stood there in complete shock and awe. How in the world did Ian manage to do that? We all should have been drenched, and yet here we were looking at a mixing bowl with exactly 1 1/3 cups of water resting inside. Ian was beaming with pride. "More!" he called. Eli clapped enthusiastically in recognition of his brother's unbelievable pouring capabilities. What a pair.
I finally was able to snap out of my stupor and went back to measuring. 1/2 a cup of oil. Oil. I shuddered at the sight of the word. I really did not want to clean up oil. But, then again, Ian did manage to keep all of the water in the bowl (miraculously). I decided to just start coaching Ian earlier this time. As I was measuring the oil in the measuring cup I was already telling him, "You have to pour the oil sloooooooooowly. Very slowly." He didn't hear a single syllable of what I was saying because he and Eli were way too busy jumping up and down on their chairs while seeing who would be the first to shatter a glass with their shrill, unending screams of excitement. Sometimes I don't know why I bother speaking at all. I walked over to the island, and before I knew what was happening, Ian ripped the measuring cup out of my hands and once again threw the contents into the mixing bowl. "Aaaahhhh!!!!" I yelled while Eli laughed hysterically at his madcap brother. I felt like I was watching my towels being shoved into a linen closet without a single hem matching up and absolutely NO uniformity in folding technique. My heart was racing out of control, and my head was spinning. If this is what Ian and Eli consider civilized behavior we might as well get pet goats to live in their rooms. And while we're at it, we should just hang one of those disgusting sets of plastic testicles on the bumper of Cole's truck so the whole world knows just how "civilized" we are! "Calm down," I told myself. "We are not getting goats or plastic testicles. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are doing really well, and you need to get back into super-mom mode and tell that neurotic woman (my true self) to get the heck out of here!"
Half of the ingredients were already in the bowl. All I had to make it through was one more addition: the cake mix. I cut the entire crimped seam off of the top of the plastic bag. My hope was that when pouring the mix into the bowl, the water would instantly be absorbed and a fabulously lumpy mound of brown batter would be created within the large mixing bowl. This time I would not let go of the bag. I would simply trick the boys into believing they were the ones in charge. I gently shook the dry mix into the mixing bowl 1/8 of a cup at a time. Ian was holding onto the bag as well, shaking gently. Apparently the slow and controlled mixing was a little too boring and Ian needed more excitement, so he took matters into his own hands. I soon realized that Ian had that crazy "I'm two years old" look in his eye, and before I could subdue him he absolutely crushed the bag of dry ingredients in his remarkably strong little hands and sent a giant cloud of pulverized cake mix soaring through the kitchen. This was a complete riot in the eyes of Ian and Eli. While the two of them laughed like hyenas, I watched in horror as the cloud of cake mix dissipated and covered every surface of the kitchen with an even layer of brown dust. So much for carefully measured ingredients. For the next several minutes I scraped and pinched every speck of cake mix on the island and placed it into the bowl. With every new deposit into the mixing bowl, Ian would laugh and say, "What are you doing, mommy? You so silly!"
Admiring their handiwork
"OH, MY GOSH! WE ARE GOING TO EAT CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!"
I cracked the eggs far away from the boys' reach. I couldn't stand the thought of them possibly contaminating themselves with raw eggs. I tried several times to convince Eli to wait in the other room while I used the hand mixer. Eli HATES the vacuum, and I knew the hand mixer would be no better. He refused to leave so I started the mixing anyway. As soon as I flipped the switch Eli became absolutely hysterical. He was wailing like a banshee, and from outside the kitchen window it must have sounded as though I was giving him a root canal with out any novocaine. The screaming did not stop until the cake was mixed and the hand mixer unplugged.
Cake batter can also be a wonderful countertop decoration
The next hour and a half were spent waiting for the cake to bake and cool. It also gave me a chance to calm down a bit. I never knew that baking with toddlers would be so stressful. Last summer I took the boys to my doctor's appointment, and it went so poorly my Rheumatologist had to hold Ian through the entire appointment and a resident had to be called into the room to hold Eli the entire time. THAT was less stressful than baking with the boys. I needed to just relax and follow the advice of my self-penned calming mantra, "Nobody is going to die. We are all going to be just fine when this is all over."
I gave each of the boys a large serving spoon to use to frost the cake. While I was peeling the protective foil cover off of the frosting can, I turned my back to the boys. Big mistake. When I turned back around Ian was licking the top of the cake while Eli was digging out bites with his spoon. I swear, they can't be trusted for one second! Thank goodness the only person being served this cake was Cole.
"Sampling" the baked goods
I got the frosting all stirred up and softened and dropped a large dollop right in the center of the cake. I began smoothing the frosting in all directions while instructing, "Just smoosh the frosting all around like this." I left out the fact that intense pressure need not be exerted on the cake in order to frost it successfully. Ian hit the cake with his spoon as though he was in a championship Whack-A-Mole tournament. In no time at all the top layer of the cake was pulled off and mixed into the chocolate frosting. "Oh, dear me. The stress. It's coming back quickly!" I thought. "We just started decorating and already the cake looks half digested!" I tried adding another gigantic dollop of frosting to hopefully cover the raw cake top thickly and prevent it from being mutilated even more. To Ian and Eli, this looked like an invitation to snack, and they quickly began devouring the "excess" frosting by any means necessary. Every two seconds I was pulling a hand out of the frosting or a spoon out of a mouth.
Eating frosting from a spoon
Eating frosting off of his finger
Eating frosting from a spoon
The chocolate is kicking in and holding still is no longer a possibility
The entire cake is frosted. The dark spots aren't placed we missed, it's cake mixed into the frosting.
Now it was time for sprinkles. Ian had chosen blue sprinkles at the store, but I had white sprinkles in the cabinet. I thought we could jazz the cake up a bit with TWO colors of sprinkles instead of just one. I took out two cupcake papers and put about a half a teaspoon of each color of sprinkles in each one. I showed the boys how to cover the cake with sprinkles. To my astonishment the boys watched carefully during my presentation. "Well, at least this part will go smoothly," I mistakenly thought. As soon as I smiled approvingly at them, they plunged their hands into the sprinkles and shoved the little sugar crystals into their mouths. "Boys!" I hollered. "Don't lick your hands. That's gross!" Of course, they didn't care a bit about what I had said and kept merrily consuming the sugary goodness. After several dips into the cupcake paper, Ian and Eli looked like the were the models for the cover art of "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. I finally said enough was enough. Not only was I grossed out by the copious amounts of sprinkles stuck to their hands by a never ending supply of saliva, they had spilled so many sprinkles on the floor that walking through the kitchen now felt like walking across Miami Beach. I got their hands cleaned up and we started sprinkling the cake with fresh sprinkles in fresh bowls.
The Final Product
When Cole got home Ian couldn't wait to tell him that he had baked him a cake. The boys led Cole into the kitchen to proudly present him with a true gift from the heart, and Cole was absolutely thrilled by the effort the boys had made to show their appreciation for their wonderful dad. I'm pretty sure that in Cole's eyes, it was the most delicious looking cake he had ever seen. And the boys' efforts were greatly appreciated by Cole.
I want to make sure that the boys know it is important to show people that they are important and they appreciate them. A well thought out gift purchased from a store is wonderful, but something that requires your time and effort is so much better. I also want them to know that it isn't enough to assume that people just automatically know how important they are, you need to show them and remind them. I think we are off to a good start. It was worth every sweep of the broom and scrub of the counter top, but it took quite a while to clean up the gigantic mess that accompanied their efforts. Maybe next year we'll make Cole a batch of dry trail mix.
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