The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf and other Stressful Things

Oh boy am I ever reaching my mama patience limit. One child is eating seriously everything that comes into her path, whether that means a nice, ripe, organic banana or a shoe that has been walking the ever-so-delectable berlin sidewalks (as a matter of fact, she is eating my Wallpaper magazine at this very moment). She requires constant attention just to stay alive...one of mother nature's little flaws. I am anxiously awaiting the day when she does a little inspecting and then some careful, conscious contemplating about whether or not she wants to actually eat that dust bunny or that small, perfectly choking size and equally-covered-in-dust toy of her elder sister that she just found in the corner. The elder sister I speak of is in an similarly frustrating, but totally different phase at the moment. She is Drama Queen Number One, which means every slight brush against a chair that might cause a little tickle of pain merits howls and screeches that could wake up the neighbors on the other side of the neighborhood. The first 100 times or so that she did that, she got the proper, "Oh sweetie, are you hurt, darling? Come here and let mama kiss your owie and make it feel better." But now, no matter how much pain and how much blood, she gets, "Chill out! Remember the story of the boy who cried wolf?" to which she howls louder, saying through sobs, "No, it really hurts this time!"

For those of you who don't know the story, it goes something like this:

There once was a shepherd boy who was bored as he sat on the hillside watching the village sheep. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, "Wolf! Wolf! The Wolf is chasing the sheep!"

The villagers came running up the hill to help the boy drive the wolf away. But when they arrived at the top of the hill, they found no wolf. The boy laughed at the sight of their angry faces.

"Don't cry 'wolf', shepherd boy," said the villagers, "when there's no wolf!" They went grumbling back down the hill.

Later, the boy sang out again, "Wolf! Wolf! The wolf is chasing the sheep!" To his naughty delight, he watched the villagers run up the hill to help him drive the wolf away.

When the villagers saw no wolf they sternly said, "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry 'wolf' when there is NO wolf!"

But the boy just grinned and watched them go grumbling down the hill once more.

Later, he saw a REAL wolf prowling about his flock. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, "Wolf! Wolf!"

But the villagers thought he was trying to fool them again, and so they didn't come.

At sunset, everyone wondered why the shepherd boy hadn't returned to the village with their sheep. They went up the hill to find the boy. They found him weeping.

"There really was a wolf here! The flock has scattered! I cried out, "Wolf!" Why didn't you come?"

An old man tried to comfort the boy as they walked back to the village.

"We'll help you look for the lost sheep in the morning," he said, putting his arm around the youth, "Nobody believes a liar...even when he is telling the truth!"

Which reminds me of another person being called that boy these days:















Anyways, so I brought Suicide Baby and Drama Queen Number One with me to a little meeting this morning for this photo project I am working on. Its a darned good thing that "sense of humor" is a concept most people understand and appreciate, though there are definitely days when I would say otherwise (see German Oma entries). Here I was, shoveling bread, then breast into one mouth of bottomless pit baby and trying to keep Drama Queen Number One happy with a glass of milk promises of chewing gum to come. My arms must have been a blur to the old man sitting across from me, as they moved from one side of the table to the next with super mama, unconscious professionalism. I was downright moved by the fact that through all this double teaming, I was able to have a whole conversation, without too many lost, breastfeeding-brain thoughts, with a sense of seriousness and professionalism to boot. I extend a heartfelt pat on the back to me. Nevermind that my nerves are totally shot.

So to gulp down with all that stressful energy, here is a lovely

Carrot Cake Recipe:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (i would use about three times this though...you can never add too much cinnamon i say)
3 cups finely shredded carrots
1 cup cooking oil
4 eggs

mix wet and dry ingredients separately. bake at around 350F or 200 C for about 30 to 35 minutes. top with cream cheese frosting.

so as to not leave you hanging here:

cream cheese frosting:
beat together two packages of softened cream cheese, 1/2 cup butter also softened, and 2 teaspoons vanilla until light and fluffy. gradually add 2 cups sifted powdered sugar, beating well. then, after coming to terms with the fact that you are putting this much powdered sugar into something you will actually eat and offer to others, beat in another 2 to 2 and 1/2 cups of powdered sugar until icing reaches spreading consistency.

i think i'll make this one for my daughter's birthday next week. i would also like to try making a banana cake and a strawberry cake (which should be pink, of course) as well. they all sound healthy at least. if you know any good recipes for the latter, please let me know!!

okay, time to feed the masses.