Tackling a holiday bake sale

A few weeks ago the girls' school held a photo fundraiser. Parents who are professional photographers donated a day of their time and families got a half-hour professional photo shoot at a very reduced rate. A holiday bake sale was held at the event and of course, yours truly, along with trusted helper, Caroline, volunteered to man the baked goods table.

For the three years before this Caroline was at our local public school, a school with a wonderfully active community and strong fundraising abilities. The old school tackled a lot of bake sales that always sold well.

But the majority of the baked goods at those bake sales were not "baked", per se. They were bought. You know, the big, crunchy, chocolate chip cookies, the hard holiday cookies with hard blue frosting all packaged in the plastic containers that slice your fingers when you try to pry them open. And not that yummy, people. There was always a lot of pizza. A little greasy. A little soggy. Not yummy.

At one bake sale I worked the woman in charge arrived five minutes after it was due to open and unloaded one plastic grocery bag of junk food after the next onto the bake sale table. I was actually embarrassed to even ask the kids to pay for the junk: chewy doughnuts, rubbery muffins, stale pound cake. It was bad, people.

So imagine my delight when I showed up with my red velvet cupcakes at the new school's bake sale a few weeks ago and found only home baked goods, all beautifully presented with a list of ingredients displayed in front. Nothing was stale, hard or chewy if it wasn't supposed to be (although the chocolate chip cookies were a little burned!).

There were creative concoctions like the chocolate pudding poppers: a little container of chocolate pudding, with a small dollop of whipped cream and a candy cane.

There were lavender shortbread stars.

There were chocolate chip cookies.

There were sugar bell, tree and snowman cookies. Popular items.

And the most popular item of all? Chocolate chip snowman cupcakes. Decorate with eyes and a nose and the kids will buy!

This bake sale was held at a public school - an art charter so maybe there are more crafty, baking types in the parent body. But it gave me hope. Hope that bake sales can be elegant, delightful, greasy-pizza-free and stale-cookie-free.

Hope that bake sales can be more like I remember my own childhood bake sales.

And still make money.

How do you tackle bake sales at your schools? Do you bake? Do you buy and then repackage as home baked (come on, fess up, we've all done it!).

Or do you simply come to them as buyers? What do you think bake sales should be like?



This post is participating in Tackling Tuesday over at 5minutesformom.

Vegetarian or meat-eater?

Clip art from clker.com

Tim doesn't eat meat. He's been a pesco-vegetarian for fifteen years. He eats fish, dairy and eggs. The girls and I do eat meat, although we rarely eat red meat. We usually eat chicken, turkey and occasionally "the other white meat," pork. We also eat a lot of fish and vegetarian meals, too. The concept of vegetarians and vegans has frequently come up at meal times since Tim often eats something different.

Katherine's favorite school lunch of the moment is chicken teriyaki. She regularly orders chicken fingers and she loves turkey bacon. So it came as some surprise on Thanksgiving day when she announced that we were "really terrible people" for killing and eating turkey and she couldn't believe we were going to put turkey on the dinner table. Tim was having fish so we said she could eat fish for her Thanksgiving dinner, too.

As dinner time approached Katherine came into the kitchen, saw the turkey breast on the counter and began crying.
"Oh my gosh!" she shouted indignantly. "You already killed the turkey! I can't believe you killed the turkey! I can't eat dinner with you if you're eating turkey!"

This scene lasted throughout our entire meal, pretty much killing (pardon the pun) our Thanksgiving dinner.

We were completely perplexed. Hadn't she, just the day before, ordered turkey bacon at breakfast?

Caroline piped up in the middle of dinner with: "Mommy, why is it called turkey breast?" Not helpful.

A few days later I talked with Katherine about Thanksgiving dinner. I asked if a friend at school had said something to her about killing turkeys. She said no, it was just because turkeys were some of her favorite animals and if everyone went around killing turkeys and eating them they would become extinct and she didn't want them to be extinct. It didn't help her feel better when I assured her turkeys were not at risk of extinction. It struck me that it probably also wouldn't help to point out that some fish actually are at risk of extinction if we continue "to go around killing them and eating them."

The reality of raising animals for food is not a topic I am ready to broach with my six-year-old. The fact is it's not a topic I like to think about a whole lot myself. It's a lot easier to simply go to my local grocery store, buy the packaged boneless, skinless chicken breasts, preferably organic and free-range, or get the wild-caught salmon at the fish counter. Not anything to be proud of. But the reality of modern, urban living.

If I really thought about it or had to be involved in the process of farming I would become a vegetarian. Or maybe not.

When I was a little older than Katherine I had a good friend who lived on a farm where her family raised cows. They named all the cows and I thought it was rather fun to open the gate and let the cows back into the barnyard at night. One winter night as we ate steak for dinner my friend's mother announced, with an air of hilarity, that we were probably eating Bessie. I choked back tears and almost threw up. I never ate steak at her house again.

However, this incident didn't stop me from eating meat elsewhere.

So, I'm curious. If you're vegetarian do you raise your children vegetarian? If you do eat meat, how do you broach the subject of meat and where it comes from? Do any of you have children who decided on their own to become vegetarians? Do any of you live on farms where your children get a hands-on-experience of the food chain?

Thanksgiving post: This one's a troublemaker

I wrote about Caroline's birth in an essay on Literary Mama, but never wrote Katherine's birth story. Caroline got a beautiful first year scrapbook and Katherine's lock of hair, hospital bracelet and other keepsakes are still sitting in a box six years later.

So I'm sharing Katherine's birth story here, in Thanksgiving week, with you, because all birth stories are worth sharing and because I'm so thankful for Katherine's birth. After you read Katherine's, please share your childrens', if you care to, and link back to Sugar Bowl Mix. I love reading birth stories. Each one is its own extraordinary miracle.

When I was pregnant with Caroline I lived in fear of the delivery. I was terrified. I was a wimp for pain. At the birthing class at a San Francisco hospital I was the only one who stood up when asked who wanted the epidural in the parking lot. After watching a graphic, bloody birth movie starring a long-haired-Haight-Ashbury-1970s-hippy screaming in agony, the birthing instructor spelled out all the reasons why we should delay the epidural as long as possible and really, best of all, skip it altogether.

I tortured myself with Discovery channel's Birth Stories. One episode in particular haunted me: a woman whose birth plan dictated skipping the epidural changed her mind as she was pushing out the baby. She screamed and cried, pleading and begging in a high-pitched little voice: "Is it too late to get the epidural?" It was.

But then an extraordinary thing happened. My water broke, we went to the hospital and I endured back labor for nine hours with no epidural and it wasn't scary. Yes, it hurt. A lot. But I discovered I have a high tolerance for pain. And when I finally got the epidural it wasn't very effective and that last half hour of pushing was one major BURN-fest. But I survived. It wasn't terrifying.

I came to realize that for me the delivery was a piece of cake, though not chocolate cake. It was the nine months of pregnancy that was hard. When I was pregnant with Katherine I had to wear a pregnancy girdle belt for the entire pregnancy because of bad back pain. Not fun. When I was four months along I came down with a kidney infection and had to be hospitalized for two nights. Tim was in New York and we had no family in town. Not fun. The Braxton Hicks contractions started a a few weeks later and never stopped. Not fun at all. Sciatica set in at the same time. Maybe the worst thing of all. I still have it six years later.

After discovering the baby was breach at thirty-six weeks I decided against the C-section and had her turned. When my OB warned me it would be "a little uncomfortable" I knew I was in for it. Five minutes of my OB pushing and shoving my baby's bottom and I almost passed out from the pain. I'd go through fourteen hours of back labor again before I'd repeat that. But my baby was turned and the C-section averted.

When I was a week overdue I begged my OB to induce me. I couldn't take it a second longer. And didn't she know I had a wedding to attend in Carmel in ten days and my mother-in-law and niece were arriving in two days? I needed this baby out! I did everything I could to naturally induce the delivery short of drinking witch's brew. Still no baby.

Finally, eight days overdue and I got word that I could come in and be induced that afternoon. Hallelujah! By tomorrow I would no longer be pregnant! I rushed to Target to buy a last-minute changing table, I rearranged Caroline's room, rearranged the den, cooked, watered the plants, folded baby clothes and played with Caroline.

I rushed around all day, in major nesting mode, so elated at the thought of meeting my baby and not being pregnant anymore, but suddenly, as we drove to the hospital that afternoon, I remembered that while delivering babies wasn't terrifying, it wasn't a piece of chocolate cake.

At the hospital I waited for forty minutes while two women were checked in before me. One woman, in active labor, winced and groaned, paced, leaned over and finding no relief crumpled on to a chair, sobbing. A reminder of what lay ahead for me.

Finally, settled in to the delivery room, hooked up to various contraptions, with Tim-I've done-this-before-call-me-when-you-need-me reading a book by the window, a nurse came in to check me.
"You're five centimeters dilated and you're having major contractions," she said.
"Oh, these aren't contractions," I said. "I've been having these for months. They're just Braxton Hicks contractions."
"Honey, you're in active labor. How have you not gone insane with those huge contractions for months?"

Four hours later with no induction necessary, my contractions fast and furious, I was pushing hard. The OB arrived, ready to oversee the delivery.

Suddenly, my baby's heart beat dropped. A lot.

"Get the vacuum!" the OB shouted to the nurse.
"Vacuum needed in room **," the nurse called on the intercom.

I didn't want forceps or the vacuum. At any cost. Now, I lay there, helpless, a vacuum on the way.

The room was very quiet.

This is one of those moments. One of those defining life moments, I thought. What happens next will change everything. Everything. I breathed in hard. It hurt.

'Where's the vacuum?" the OB called out, her voice panicky.

The nurse called for it again. I appreciated her calm voice, her methodical movements. I breathed in long and deep again,  thinking the extra oxygen would help my baby.

Four people in surgery gowns charged into the delivery room in a blur.

The OB struggled with the vacuum.

"Shit, "I heard her say. Really? I remember thinking. Did she really just say that? Now? In this moment?

Then my baby was out. One of the surgery gowns grabbed her and flew over to an area I couldn't see under a bright light.

"We're going to make sure the baby is okay," I heard the OB say, in between heavy breaths. I didn't know who she was talking to.

 I haven't heard her cry, I thought. I waited, holding my breath, willing my baby who I couldn't see to cry.

I looked to Tim but he was watching the surgery gowns check our baby.

Then, just like that, a loud, forceful cry went up.

"There she goes," someone said.

I let my breath out. Hot tears slid down my cheeks.

They placed my baby, wrapped tightly in a hospital blanket, in my arms. I looked at her full head of black hair, her little, serious brown eyes and her round, red face. She didn't look anything like her sister. She didn't look anything like I expected she would, but I knew her already. I knew my baby who had  grown inside me, kicked me, punched me and hiccupped every night at nine o'clock. I knew her.

"Hi precious," I said.

"Watch out," the OB said, "this one's a troublemaker."

Tobacco stops the bleeding

Last week I cut the top of my thumb.

I was showing a contractor, working at the house for the day, a toilet that needed to be fixed. Somehow, with my expert ways around toilets, I managed to drop the top of the toilet onto the marble floor. It broke with a loud crash. I reached down to pick up the broken piece.

"Be careful!" The contractor shouted.

He was too late. I sliced my thumb across the top on the very sharp edge of the ceramic toilet top. I swore. Loudly. Then I turned on the tap and placed my thumb under cold running water. The blood poured out an alarming rate.

The young contractor's eyes widened when he saw the red run off in the sink. He got me the Band-Aid box and wrapped my thumb in several Band-Aids but they were soaked through before he was even done.

I wrapped my thumb in a white rag. After half an hour the contractor checked in on my thumb. It was still bleeding.

"You need tobacco," he told me.
"Tobacco?"
"Tobacco stops the bleeding."

He went out to his truck, got a cigarette, broke it in half and emptied the tobacco. He took a small clump of tobacco and pressed it against my bleeding cut. He wrapped another Band-Aid around the tobacco.

(Then he asked why I was taking pictures of my bloody thumb.)

I had my doubts. I really did. So I googled "tobacco stops bleeding" and was surprised at the results. Apparently tobacco really does stop bleeding. In my case it took twenty minutes.

It's hard to know if it was the tobacco or just the fact that fifty minutes had passed since I first sliced my thumb. I like to believe it was the tobacco.

Have you ever used an unusual first-aid treatment?

Order your holiday cards now!

Every year Christmas seems to be really far away. And then I get the first one in the mail. The first Christmas photo card from a far more organized family in which their children are actually smiling and the parents look relaxed. And I realize that Christmas is only a few weeks away. So I scramble to get a photo of the girls together. Never mind including us, the parents - we're always much to late for that. And I race to upload the photo to Shutterfly and place my order in time to get the cards out before the end of December. One year I had to send out New Year's cards.

But this year will be different. The girls' school is hosting a holiday photo fundraiser and we have our fifteen minute family photo session booked for 10:30 am Saturday, November 13th. This means that by Sunday November 14th, before Thanksgiving even, I can order my holiday cards from Shutterfly!

Shutterfly has literally hundreds of cards with many different designs to choose from. And they're all sustainably forested so you can feel good about sending out green cards! These are three of my favorites.

Mod Snowflakes

This card is hip, classy and the colors are perfect for a black and white photo.



Elegant Floral Black

This card is elegant and classy and yes, a little but hip, too. And the colors will work great with either a black and white or a color photo.

Joy To You

I love this card's simple, stylish graphic and its different hues of green. It will work well with a black and white or a color photo.

Which is your favorite? Help me decide which one to get!

If you're feeling ambitious and are one of those families that already has their holiday card done, check out Shutterfly's wall calendars. When the girls were little I used to custom make calendars for each grandmother and even some aunts. Since I'm going to have so much time with my cards already ordered before Thanksgiving, I may do it again this year!

This post is participating in a Shutterfly promotion.  Go here if you want a blogger opportunity to get fifty free holiday cards from Shutterfly.

Pictures I didn't take

This morning I started going through the six-hundred some photos on my iPhone. There are so many pictures that I didn't take. I was planning to throw most of them out but some are funny, some are weird, some are downright creepy and there's just something about them that made me want to keep them, made me want to drop them into a newly created "Pictures I didn't take" folder.

Beeing in the car seems to trigger picture-taking.

 There's an obsession with self-portraits.

There's an obsession with the car garbage bags. There were at least a dozen pictures of the garbage. I only included one here.

There's something kind of cool about this last self-foot portrait. Or, maybe it's just that it is the only picture  in focus.

This post is participating in To-The-Top Tuesday Blog Hop.  Link up and follow along. Looking forward to meeting some new bloggers!

Tuesday Blog Hop

Wow, I am so excited that my blog was picked to be the Twee Poppets Blog Hopper of the Week! Sugar Bowl Mix went public less than two weeks ago and I am only beginning to learn the ropes in the blogosphere. Any helpful tips in the comments are definitely appreciated, as are followers and subscribers!

Sugar Bowl Mix is a mix of thoughts and stories about life with girls in Los Angeles and my journey to get here. I'm a baker and a cook, too, and on Mondays I will write food-oriented posts, some of which will be recipes.

I'm looking forward to meeting many of you.  Thanks for stopping by. Take a breather and hang out a while!

This is how the blog hop works:

• Create a new Tuesday Tag-Along blog post. Include the Tuesday Tag-Along button by copying and pasting the code above. (You are also welcome to copy and paste these instructions in their entirety, or any portion of this Tuesday Tag-Along blog post!)
• Add your blog name and the URL of your TTA post to the MckLinky below.
• Follow Twee Poppets, the hostess blog listed in the first slot. Twee Poppets will follow you back! (Note: If you want Twee Poppets to follow you back, you MUST leave her a comment saying that you are a new follower and leave a link to your blog!)
• Follow the Blog Hopper of the Week, listed in the second slot -that's me this week! To learn how to be chosen as the Blog Hopper of the Week, read the red text below.
• If you can, please follow the blogs in the three slots before you (e.g., if you're number 20, follow numbers 19, 18, and 17). This is not mandatory, but it will help ensure that everyone who signs up gets a few new followers!
• Follow as many other blogs as you want. The more you follow, the more that will follow you back! Be sure to tell them that you're following from Tuesday Tag-Along! You may also want to leave a link to your blog so they can return your follow more easily.
• When you get a new follower through Tuesday Tag-Along, be sure to follow them back! It's just common courtesy. :)

The weekly Tuesday Tag-Along MckLinky opens every Monday night at 8:59pm Pacific Standard Time (that's 11:59pm Eastern Standard Time), and the TTA blog post will be posted well in advance of that time. The MckLinky will be open to add your blog until 11:59pm Tuesday night. You then have all week long to visit blogs and return follows!

There is a new list every week. The link you enter one week will not carry over to the next week's MckLinky. Please link up again each week to join in the fun!


Tuesday Tag-Along Blog Hopper of the Week:
Note: To be eligible to be Blog Hopper of the Week, you MUST place the Tuesday Tag-Along button somewhere on the main page of your blog or website (Inside a blog post does NOT count; it must be on the actual page, e.g. in the sidebar. And since I'll be checking for it manually, I must be able to actually find it). If the randomly-drawn winner does not meet this condition, a new winner will be randomly selected. If you do not want to place the TTA button on your site, you are still more than welcome to join in the blog hop, you will just not be eligible to be the Blog Hopper of the Week.

Each week, one blog will be chosen randomly from all the links, and that lucky blog will be placed in the desirable second slot for the following week's MckLinky! 


Thanks Twee Poppets, for choosing Sugar Bowl Mix! 


I hope I entered the MckLinky correctly so that you can add to the list from here.  If not, sorry....Please visit Twee Poppets and enter your blog in the list there.