Baking Across America – The Tollhouse Inn Chocolate Chip Cookies

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Happy Independence Day, Americans! I mean, United States-ians. 

And having fallen behind somewhat in the once a month baking from Baking Across America, here is some catch-up. I picked two iconic – in my mind and heart and stomach iconic, at any rate – dishes: the original chocolate chip cookies, and brownies. This post is all for the cookies.

The year after I finished school, dad took some study leave and I was able to go with him and mum and my younger brother for some travel. We stayed in a town just north of Boston for a couple of months and it has a special place in my heart. And I must admit, I got rather hooked on certain foods. For quite some time, whenever I was feeling nostalgic, I would make a batch of chocolate chip or M&M cookies and listen to the soundtrack for Forrest Gump. 

Recently, there have been competing bids in our family for the title of Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookie. I had my favourite – it is possibly still very much, at any rate, my favourite – but then along came Geronimo Stilton with his recipes here and there, and so I made a batch of those and they were suddenly crowned the winners by the girls. It felt fitting, then, to bake these Tollhouse Inn Cookies, as apparently they are the original of all the chocolate chip cookie recipes. 

In an effort to be as proper as possible, I even googled what “semisweet chocolate” is in Australia (dark, if you’re interested, but the 50-60% variety and not the 70+). Then in a further effort to be as proper as possible, I bought the actual Nestle bakers bars and chopped them as directed. No cheating with chopping up melts or even just using chocolate chips. 

I like my cookies chewy, not crisp, so when I saw that they would be crispy I thought, well, at least they’ve got chocolate. But goodness me! Yes, they’re crispy, but they are not crunchy, as not-chewy cookies often are. These are crispy AND chewy, in that glorious combination that is rarely achieved. Having non-uniform chocolate dispersal also adds a level of excitement. Could this be hiding a lode? Is that top a hint of what’s within, or is it the best it’s going to be? Ooh hang on, what’s this on the bottom? CRISPY GOOEY CHOCOLATE!

Ahem. 

Also, I like that these are – in my increasingly old-fashioned mind – normal size cookies. Like, one or two with a cup of milk for an afternoon tea snack after school for a primary school-aged kid before they run outside to ride bikes and do cartwheels up and down the street with ten other kids before the streetlights turn on and “DINNERTIME” is sung out across the neighbourhood. The size of cookie that can fit in the smaller portions of my girls’ lunchboxes without me having to break them in half or put them in a separate container altogether. 

Because of their size, there is also the bonus of just how many cookies this makes. Now, this didn’t come across like portions to feed a football team or anything. I wasn’t reading it thinking, wowsers, HOW much flour are we using here? Or, are we seriously putting this much sugar in this I thought this used to be rationed. It was really very normal, and produced a normal quantity of cookie dough. 

A normal quantity of cookie dough that so far has made 52 cookies and still I think another 26 or so to go. I had to fridge the last bit of dough, for no other reason than I felt a little like I was in Fantasia: The Cookie Edition and would have to store any more cookies in random jars and bags and have Surprise Cookies that we randomly uncover when looking for a rolling pin or dishwashing liquid or something. Enough! 

But seriously though these are amazing and maybe I need to get serious about running again.

The Leaps and Bounds of April 2026

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Well hello, May. April – let’s talk about April. There were developments that weren’t even Developments. They were more in the category of DEVELOPMENTS. The sort of leaps and bounds that new parents experience in those developmental leaps that also come with total chaos as the baby gets a software update and system reboot. 

S is developing great drawing skills. I love seeing pictures of us drawn by her. And her writing, too. The other day after she’d had breakfast and the big girls were doing everything possible (it felt) to avoid doing anything necessary to get ready for school, S just got herself a piece of paper and some pens and did (from my perspective) a collection of random letters. She handed it to me and announced, “Now we’re at a fancy restaurant!” I looked at her menu and she hopped off her chair and went to get ready. Have I mentioned she is very different from the other girls? She’s very different. That evening on our way home she was chatting and said something like, “And I drew an S on the fancy restaurant menu. It’s yellow”, and then continued on with telling me about her day. At the first opportunity when we were home, I had a look. Sure enough, in among all the letters was a yellow S.

The Sunday after Easter, C started serving at church. That Sunday – Low Sunday – was also when I started serving at church many years ago. I’m too tired right now to try and work that out but more than 20 years ago. Goodness. This was something that E had brought up a few weeks before Easter – “When do we get to wear white at church”, or words to that effect – so I had contacted the person in charge of servers and here we are. C has found her church thing. E is desperate to start, too, but has to wait a few more weeks before a special permission try as she is only 5, not 8. 

Also with C, she can reach the ceiling now. She’s pretty tall. Oh wait, what I actually mean is she can shimmy up the walls in the hallway and touch the ceiling and will either shimmy back down or, more likely, jump down. Fun times. Acro lessons are definitely worth it. C has long been able to be a bridge between the wall at the start of the hallway and the sofa. This week, E had the length and the strength and the brave to do it, too. “CAN YOU TAKE A PHOTO” and “CAN YOU TAKE A VIDEO” are phrases on high repeat in our household.

Speaking of E. Last weekend – wait, back it up. School mornings are cereal for breakfast. I can prep it before they’re up, and I don’t have to start their day with a question. Weekends are more varied, and I often make scrambled eggs. Girls often help. S is still a bit wild when cracking eggs but generally they are all quite capable, and always supervised. Last weekend, E made our scrambled eggs nearly entirely on her own. She asked for help tipping the eggs into the pan and I did a couple of stirs but that was it. Then on Monday C and E insisted on frying their own eggs. They both did fairly well, both scored a minor burn when flipping their egg, and we were late out the door, but that sense of achievement!

Two weeks ago, E came out with the sudden need to ride scooters to school. It had probably been in her head for some time but she hadn’t mentioned anything to me and so when we are heading out the door and her face lights up as she asks if we can ride scooters to school she is then so utterly crushed when my panicked on-rails brain has to say no. Thankfully I am learning how to parent E a bit better and we were able to have a relatively speedy conversation where I explained we haven’t even scooted outside our place before and we need to practice that first. 

On the weekend, I took E and S with scooters and helmets and RULES to the park, where they ignored the path around the park and just played on the playground equipment most of the time. But we had that exposure to more hills and roads, so when Tuesday morning Go Time had an extra request with a face lit up with delight, I had to pause but figured, yes, we could do this. I could do this. Girls now scoot to school. C scoots ahead and I let her know our next point of meeting up. E sticks fairly close to me and randomly stops in front of me and counts to something (19, 81 with a few skipped numbers, and no. I have no idea why she does this), and then scoots on. I always have bandaids with me but haven’t needed any for scooting tumbles just yet.

Yes, this scares me enormously. The capacity for injury is high. But I have been reading things and noticing things and need to take deep breaths and let go. Not to the point of letting a kid cross a road with no visibility and fast traffic, but, you know. Chilling out a bit more. What I’ve been reading is geared towards ADHD but there’s also the underlying attitude of trying to parent as if my girls are all neurodivergent, regardless or whether they are or not. I’m fairly sure E has an ADHD brain. Kids with ADHD are corrected 20,000 more times by age 10 than their non-ADHD peers, and every correction eats away at confidence and self-esteem. 

I have already heard from E that she feels she is dumb because C is so smart and knows everything. Every time E is trying something and is told how to do it, or it doesn’t work out, or she is corrected – there is so much correction in her life. So I’m actively trying to let go so she can try things in her way in her time, clean up the mess, and feel she is capable of trying things and learning how to do things. Maybe this is my April Achievement.

What We Read This Week (26/04/2026)

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This week, or so. Recently. Books that we have been reading in the near enough past that I can recall them. You know.

S has been not quite obsessed but definitely returning to Spot books at every opportunity. A few nights recently, when she should have been asleep because TIRED but hasn’t been able to get to sleep because of sisters (and that horrible phase of the overtired-but-can’t-sleep that I abhor), I have found her sitting in bed, quietly looking through a Spot book before tucking it under the bed and flopping like a felled tree and being apparently instantly asleep. She has also been loving Ruby’s Feelings, one of the books in the Ruby Red Shoes world. I haven’t actually read it to her much so she doesn’t have the words in her brain and it irritates E immensely to hear S chattering/reading her own interpretations of the pictures and what the bunny is doing. 

E has continued to impress me with her diverse picks. We’ve had books from different religions, books from different cultures, books with cross-dressing drag queens and non-binary kids. This week’s school library picks: Camilla the Cupcake Fairy, which I have read at least once a night since it came home – which I quite enjoy and it doesn’t make me groan inwardly or cringe or make editorial comments as we go, so, tick – and Speak Up, a graphic novel with an autistic main character and a non-binary side-kick. Without being able to read (much – although she is cracking the code!), E has worked out most of the storyline with only a little bit of help from me. I am impressed. It is from the big kids’ area, and I thought C might enjoy it.

I was right. She devoured it, and there was a whopping great fisticuffs fight when C had about two pages to go and E snatched the book away. I could see both sides, but oof. That was a tough battle. C was devastated not to be finishing her book that was not really her book but she was really into it – straight away. And then we had a big, big, BIG discussion about neurodiversity and different brains and how different brains can manifest itself in different behaviours. It’s been big. C has also been rereading Gangsta Grannies – and I mean, on repeat like a chainsmoker – as well as a few Geronimo Stilton books that are astronomically late back to the local library. Although part of me is always a bit in the zone of, “Why why why is there so much stuff on your bunk” when I go to change the sheets – a question directed at the walls as she is usually at school when I do this – another bit of me is in the zone of, “BOOKS yay keep as many as you like up there I will not impose any limits”. 

Easter Holidays 2026

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Easter holidays. Pretty much done and they have had their moments (like nearly the entirety of Thursday and Friday) but also loads of good. This was the first school holiday with two girls at home. If I just put here that C likes quiet and E likes loud and very physical, that may go some way to enlightening anyone interested as to how time at home can go for us. Especially when S is home, too. Loud, and also can be very focused on something, which is amazing from my adult perspective, but infuriating for siblings who think that even though she can play with something for hours on end and not break it or bust it or eat it or bin it or ruin it in any conceivable way, the fact that she might have done that two years ago is still apparently a strong factor in their brains or may it’s just the infuriating THAT’S MINE that maybe I’ll have on my gravestone. 

Here’s some of what happened for us over these holidays.

We recovered. Good Friday I realised was the first morning in weeks and weeks that we didn’t have to be somewhere and we were all well. Girls needed a rest. I needed a rest. I made hot cross buns for the first time in years only I didn’t do great crosses so I scored the raised eight-year-old eyebrows of doubt as to their validity. Fair. I was really frustrated that, being a very crafty person who really likes making things and who has a whole heap of Easter crafts saved on Instagram and Pinterest, nothing of the sort happened. As I said, girls were wrecked. The place was an utter disaster as I’d been working so much (I did NO work over the Easter weekend though) so I did what I could to make that less … you know. The closest we got to craft was the girls playing with rainbow clay for a bit. I was sad, but also mindful for next year. I have plans.

Thanks to Bluey, the Easter Bunny did a bit of a hunt with clues for the girls. The most talked about bit was that he left socks in their Easter baskets!!! So the next clue was where their socks go!! And it was a fridge magnet and he had hidden some Easter eggs in magnet houses on the fridge!!! And so on. Unfortunately, there were not enough clues for E so she was moaning about that all morning. We actually made it to church on Easter Sunday, also for the first time in a long time. This was huge for me, and it made such a difference to my inner being. There were so many kids in the children’s area I didn’t even count but at least 30. 

This was a holiday of park visits. We went to parks, as many parks as possible. On Easter Monday, we went to one which is a bit of a walk away but has a bus just outside to take us home. This park is big and lovely and the big open spaces and tall trees always do my soul some good. At one point, C asked me to pretend to be a fox and she was a rabbit, and it ended up with me chasing all my three girls plus another who looked she could have been my child. It turned into me being Mr Todd and they were all little bunnies and that was then the game for the holidays. Throughout the holidays, we also kept running into E’s best friend. Both girls have younger siblings still at the same daycare and we would all either collide at drop-off and then sometimes go to a park together, or pass each other on the way home… and go to the same park together. Sometimes they would have their dogs which would have C over the moon. 

E’s big request for the holidays was to go to the hose park with this friend, so we actually coordinated a double family trip (although Glenn was working. Sigh). Ferries were caught. The hose park – a play area outside GoMA with a giant hose sprawled around it on which my kids will play for hours and hours and hours – was played in and new friends were made and ice creams were screamed about and consumed and then we went to the pink park – the playground in South Bank with pink slides – for more playing there before coming home in the middle of a stupidly hot day. Girls slept well that night.

This was the holiday of the flu stab. I mean flu shot. My plan had been to take E and C on the Wednesday in the first week, slather C in the numbing gel, get them both their stabs and then on Friday, S and I would get ours done and Glenn would get his as and when he could. Great plan, except C has been working up to this for two years. Two years of anxiety over the pain that the previous two flu shots caused her. She is, shall I say, rather sensitive, but also super interested so every nurse and pharmacist and phlebotomist trying all the tricks just fails as she will pay enough attention to answer their distracting questions but still keep a very close eye on the stab site. She screamed so much while E was having hers done that the pharmacist and I bailed. C tried again later with Glenn and closer but still no, so I forked out for the new nasal spray for her and four of us had our shots on the Friday. Yay for free flu vaccines!

This was the first holiday of a holiday activity. The dance school where ballet and acro happen holds holiday workshops and C and E both wanted to do the Disney princess one. Drop off 8.30-9, pickup about 3.15, and I could actually get to do some work without E suddenly at my side to tell me, “Mummy it’s ten dot dot four six. It’s ten dot dot forty-six!” Or being asked on repeat for colouring in pages or to take photos of drawings or loom bands or whose turn it is on the iPad and can we play a game on the iPad. Goodness. I love it when they do acro in the hallway – C can climb up to the ceiling – but the screaming when someone walks underneath without announcing it, and the arguing over whether a move should be classed as a bunny hop or an L-stand or a handstand, not to mention all the thuds of young people landing nearby – it gets a bit much. We all really appreciated that dance workshop.

Since then, though, it’s just been four days of frustration and fighting. Mostly. We have a rental inspection on Tuesday and so I am busy chucking stuff and getting frustrated that, not having done well in being a good example for keeping the place nice nor installing any form of respect for our home or just don’t just drop your used bandaid on the floor, girls are trying to run and hide at most mentions of making the place look nice. Or even just less bad. I am anticipating two days of intense stress followed by about the same of ooh isn’t this nice and clear and … ahhhhh. Wish me luck.

Baking Across America – Smörbakelser

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Now, I know I said I would do at least one of these recipes a month and I know I did two in January and one in February and we are suddenly in April and what happened there? I am here to reassure you, or to plead my case or something, but I promise I made these in March. The very end of March.

So. Smörbakelser. Swedish-American shortbread, which is easier for my pronunciation brain to get around having never learned a Scandinavian language. Shortbread is so clearly what this is. As for any Swedish or American component, well, I’m not sure. I am uneducated in the factors that make shortbread Swedish or American or Scottish, although I think I could pick out a Scottish shortbread recipe if you gave me a few. Recipes, that is. I’m not confident I could pick a shortbread region from a lineup of actual cookies. I have typed the word “shortbread” a number of times in this paragraph. Time to move on.

I have mixed feelings when I consider my experience with this cookie and recipe. I attempted it after taking E (with S) to dancing on Saturday morning. I also made a baked oatmeal at the same time and it seems that the kitchen gods could only allow one recipe to flourish. Not from the recipe, mind you, but from all that surrounded it. Girls can only play nicely for a certain amount of time. Glenn was home and had plans for the kitchen. Girls needing my attention protracted the time spent on the recipe which caused stress. Softening butter by placing it next to the air fryer vents worked too well, so I ended up with quite a soft mix that I ended up putting in the fridge for later. 

“Later” turned out to be Sunday after church, but that meant I had buttery batter coming to room temperature the way lumps of anything do: not uniformly. When it came to rolling it out, some parts were a bit floppier than I would like and other parts still felt like a butter brick. And for extra fun, the weather was still too warm – even though we have definitely hit autumn now – so any re-rolling of dough had very very very soft and floppy dough to work with. 

Also, note to self. A rolling pin with the measuring tool will come in handy in your life and you know this and it’s not like spending all the money you have on a Thermomix or anything. Measuring rolling pins are inexpensive. Get one. 

Oh, also. At the cutting out the dough stage was when I realised we do not have a 4cm fluted circle cutter. We have a 6cm one, though, so that was what was used. Great for using what we have, and that was not a difference that would affect the recipe in any great way. Not so great for how many cookies you have or anything. I’m here to inform you that an approximately-rolled dough with a 6cm fluted cutter will yield (shudder) 17 cookies. I do not like prime numbers.

On the upside, these are a success. They taste like what a shortbread cookie should taste like. But. They spread a bit more than was indicated they would (“a tiny bit” instead of “none”). They were very much enjoyed by girls (yay) but that led to E, having been told a firm NO for any more because it is late in the afternoon, just taking another anyway from a still-hot tray. No injury, thankfully, but the sudden reach to stop her arm touching a hot tray meant my yoghurt tub flipped onto the floor so instead of having afternoon tea I got to clean up the floor and my legs and feet first. 

So I am trying to remember the good. The container of cookies that won’t last the day helps attest to their worth. The firm crumble with a crunch of coarse sugar on the top is a winner. I’m not sure if I’ll make them again but you never know. I suppose I should learn how to pronounce them authentically first, though.

Lunchboxes

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I’m fairly sure that people who sell lunchbox recipe books must know that, in Australia at least, January may be the second-best time for sales, as parents are gathering ammunition for the lunchbox campaign. But then there are mums like me, who maybe think they know what they are doing for lunches for kids, who are all smug about having systems in place for prepping and freezing sandwiches and healthy sweets, who have all that upended as the reality kicks in of a preppie who doesn’t eat sandwiches and there’s only a certain time for eating before you get to play and who wants to miss out on playing just because of some boring basic necessity like food? Not any kid I know. 

So. A brief recap because that is what I like to do. When C started school, I didn’t want to do just sandwiches. Also, I was really worried about her eating anything at all because she could take a ridiculously long time to eat anything. Like, two hours for a muffin. She scored mini quiches and savoury muffins and filled croissants and all sorts of things, but it turned out what she really liked were sandwiches. I can’t remember if it was the start of grade 1 or 2 for her – I do remember I was slightly peeved that it had taken me so long to work it out – I got onto freezing sandwiches, and had a nice little flow of getting a loaf of bread and making three sandwiches to freeze. I had my way of lunch prep, and I could fill her lunchbox in about 18 seconds on the way out the door, as it turned out. C has been an ok lunch eater, and this year she has turned into an amazing lunch eater.

E started out well. Corn thins and a yoghurt would be more eaten than Biscoff love heart sandwiches, but generally she retuned empty or near-empty lunchboxes for the first two weeks. Then week 3 happened, where I discovered they start the routine of eat then play (instead of careful eating away from the rest of the school before playing just in the prep area), and I swear in week three her total food intake amounted to half a Biscoff sandwich, a bite of pancake with homemade raspberry and chia jam, three pieces of popcorn and a pickle. Oh wait. And a packet of Bluey Poppeasys every day, and a serve of fruit each day.  And a packet of tiny teddies. For a girl who does a walk of a mile each morning to get to school, and comes along to dancing for C two days a week, and does Irish dancing herself one day a week and has to walk home three days a week and does 90 minutes of dancing on a Saturday, this was not enough. 

Coincidentally, in week three I also just happened to find a number of posts in my feed for lunchbox recipes and ebooks. I looked. I investigated. My finger hovered over the Add to Cart button a few times. I bought one. Okay, fine, I bought three from the same company, but one was for lunchbox recipes, another was for bliss balls, and the third was party food and ideas, and as this was right before the “simple party just a birthday cake”, and as C will be having a birthday party in a few weeks, and S really wants a proper … you get the idea. But they were all greatly reduced in price so, you know. I have no regrets.

Also – proud mum moment here – I actually listened to what E told me at the end of week 4. “I can’t eat all that food”. A brain cell perked up and I realised she was suffering from too much eyes. You know when they’re ridonculously tired and have been active all day and you want to feed them up at dinner to replenish all that expended energy so they don’t wake up at 4.43am absolutely ravenous and ready for the new day, but what happens is they look at the normal serve of dinner in front of them and can barely manage a bite because this looks like too much of a job for their brains to handle and instead of eating even a little bit they get overwhelmed and don’t eat anything. 

Week 5, I had some new recipes, and I also reduced by about half what I put in the lunchbox. Mostly success! E really doesn’t like pancakes, though – actually, she never has, now I think about it – and two mini muffins in one compartment was still too much. Weeks 6 and 7, I am very smugly proud to report, have returned entirely empty lunchboxes for E and almost entirely empty lunchboxes for C. 

It has been a bit of a mental exercise for me to work out E, but – have I mentioned she is very different from C? – I go more for categories for her, and balance out the nutrition across the lunchbox. So. She is my crunch-lover. I aim for something crunchy, something protein, something sweet. Like, a corn thin and a yoghurt pouch, veggie straws and a flower sprinkle cookie. Or mini chicken drumsticks, baby cucumbers, and a mini chocolate chip and raspberry muffin. Or pea crisps and pickles and chocolate chickpea slice. Last week she asked if I could please also include poppeasies and as nothing has come home in the lunch bag, we’re good. That may continue.

This whole escapade has also boosted my happy super mum cup. By that I mean, I have been feeling more like a good mum – like the mum I always thought I would be and definitely wanted to be but lots and lots of things got in the way – and making loads of this myself. Caramel popcorn. Bread. Yoghurt bread. Flower sprinkle cookies. Banana oat chocolate chip cookies. I have found it possible to make the time to make the food. Partly, I am beginning to discover (as my oldest is about to turn 8, so that does deflate the new super mum feelings somewhat), as my focus is on calm and happy that then helps my girls be calmer and happier. And, admittedly, letting them watch a movie or some shows while I get things done in the kitchen helps. It helps.

So this weekend – which had birthday parties both mornings AND insistence from S about what I make as presents – I made the banana oat peanut butter cups that I love, green chocolate chip muffins, yoghurt bread, salted caramel popcorn and salted popcorn. There are still flower sprinkle cookies, blueberry bliss balls (try saying that three times in a row), banana oat choc chip cookies, chocolate chickpea slice and blueberry buckle available. I’ll make some more sandwiches with the yoghurt bread and then I guess I’ll be making another bread soon as we are out. Which makes me immensely happy. 

I still have to think when doing E’s lunches. I haven’t made it to the auto phase just yet. But super organised mum me is also planning a visual aid to help speed it up. Of course.

What We Read This Week (08/03/2026)

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We have reached a new level. In her school library borrowing time, C has been borrowing Amulet books. They are only allowed to borrow one graphic novel a week, and this has been all she has borrowed from school this year. She and a friend have been reading them together at school, and C has been devouring them (along with a whole host of other books) at home. A couple of weeks ago, E came home after her library borrowing day with an Amulet book, too. Another example of her trying to do something nice for her sister and also keen to see what all the fuss was about. So for a couple of weeks now, C has been reading Amulet to E at every opportunity. Heart melt.

C also started Home Story Time, where all three girls put a bunch of cushions and pillows on the floor in their bedroom, arrange themselves and the current favourite toys upon said cushions and pillows, and C reads to them. For all it is hard raising three girls close in age in a small space, it definitely has its delights.

Last week, on the night of the full moon/blood moon eclipse, it was one of THOSE nights where girls just kept each other awake. Not for any annoying reason, it was just one girl would be close to sleep and another would think of something they had to say or find, or they wanted to look at the moon, and I … I did not cope so well. Although, giving myself some credit here, a whole lot better than me of a year ago would have and definitely a big improvement on me of a few years ago. But still. Not great. One of the issues was that we have been choosing lullabies to listen to, which sounds like a lovely idea, right? Except this is on the internet, which has more lullabies for kids to go to sleep than there are stars in the sky. I finally had enough of who gets to choose first, how long they would take to find The Right One, and the annoyance from other girls at someone else’s choice. It’s still making me cross! 

On Wednesday I realised a lot of the sleep delay was from lullabies, and a lot of my bedtime stress was from lullabies, and so I realised I needed to replace the lullabies with something else. I realised I needed to be reading to them, and not reading picture books, and definitely not reading funny or exciting or scary books. No. I needed to be reading the slower, gentler chapter books that I have been reading to C for the last couple of years. Wednesday night I read the first chapter each of Heidi and of Pollyanna, and S was asleep before I even began reading, and E fell asleep just before 8 for the first time in over two months, and C … well, two out of three ain’t bad.

We also had a rainy Saturday afternoon trip to the library. C promptly chose, borrowed, started reading and then squirrelled away on her bunk two books. The usual sort. Animal rescue. Dragon hunting. S – I think?  – borrowed a Holly Webb Christmas book. I will check that, but it will be perfect for nightly chapter book reading. E borrowed an Easter egg hunt book and a picture book. She seems to have a knack for finding books that are diverse and inclusive. This one we read this evening: Before We Met. When she showed it to me, I knew it would have me crying. I warned her, but also reassured her they would be happy tears. Oh my. There is so much in this book! And if we had had difficulties having babies it would be even more so. It’s one of those where the words are beautiful and can encompass all the parenting love, and the pictures add all the nuance that grownups understand and kids will come to understand in time. Goodness. Here I go again. Needless to say, there were cuddles and forehead kisses galore tonight.

Baking Across America – Lowbush Blueberry Buckle

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I must admit, even having been to Maine and enjoyed their blueberries (and yes, even contemplated ways in which I could move to Maine), I only understood two of the three title words in this dish. Yet having left my February Baking Across America baking to the very last day of February (two family birthdays with a birthday party over the course of eight days had a bit of an impact), this dish kept coming to mind. It looked good. It looked achievable. It looked summery, which was appropriate for our last day of summer. I had to find the suggested alternative for graham crackers (digestives), and order them alongside sour cream and frozen blueberries, and then I was good to go.

This was one of those dishes that got started one day and finished another. Thank goodness for dry ingredients. After trying to break up digestives for a bit on Friday and then Saturday morning, I then remembered our new and lovely and powerful blender. Bliss. Blitzing bliss. Sugar and digestives and cinnamon looked like sand in no time. I discovered I cannot hold a knife in my left hand (come on, who does?!), so my Scottish crumble skills came to the fore. Sorry if that makes this less legit, but honestly, it was pure luck that the blueberries were tiny, as specified in the recipe, and not the giant ones of the previous packet. Aussies are not so particular about our blueberries as this dish specifies. 

I actually managed to get to the last step of the process before putting it in the tin before S came in hauling the ladder to help me. Then by the time she had washed her hands then told her sisters she was helping me then blown her nose and washed her hands again, it was actually time to put it in the oven.

This was one of those dishes that as I was putting it into the tin I thought, “This is too stiff”, and as I was bringing it out of the oven I thought, “Did I burn it?” Yet, having let it cool for several hours, slicing into it was a dream. A crispy promise of baked sugar with moist cake beneath. Goodness.

And because it was our last day of summer, we took a few pieces to a friend’s place for a swim in their pool. 

Which. Was. Glorious. 

We had it to ourselves. It was clear and summery and warm and just utterly perfect, and having a treat by the side of the pool made it the best swim of the season. Our host enjoyed a piece with me while the girls got straight down to the business of swimming. But after a bit, S was out and having half a piece before wiping crumbs from her face with her sleeve and getting back into the pool. I think she had three pieces in total. S and C relaxed on the deckchairs with a piece each when I finally had everyone out of the pool and I have been assured that it will be a welcome addition to lunchboxes. What a win.

A Simple Birthday Party

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

A few months ago: E – “for my 5 birthday party, I want”… Me: Sure.

About six weeks ago: Me – “We’d better start working out what you would like for your birthday party”.  E – “I don’t want a birthday party. I just want like what S had for her 3 birthday. That cake with strawberries”. Me: Sure. Are you sure? Because I don’t want us to get to your birthday and you decide you want a party after all. 

Hahahahahahaha

There was much flip-flopping. She wanted a party. She didn’t want a party. She wanted a party but NOT inviting these two people. She wanted a party and inviting kids from her class – remembering that school started at the end of January – who she had not told me she had ever played with. She didn’t want a party. She wanted a party.

Eventually, I took the reins. Party, BUT the whole class is invited as we are absolutely NOT playing favourites in prep at all, really. Play date at the park for whoever can come on relatively short notice and I am just bringing a cake. No food. No drinks. No games. No balloons and streamers and all the other stuff. Just. Cake. 

It couldn’t be the weekend before her birthday as that was too soon. Despite the ominous forecast for rain, rain and more rain, that meant the weekend after her birthday. Saturday is ballet in the morning – and at least three other girls in her class do Saturday morning ballet, too – and there was a school disco in the evening. Saturday was not looking great for a birthday party. Sunday. Sunday? Sunday. Glenn will be working all day but as it’s just a play in the park and I’m just bringing cake, this will be fine. Right? Yep. Fine. No problem at all.

Hahahahahahaha

This turned out to be the limit of what I could handle. The number of times I pulled the “Am I cancelling this birthday party?” card out. The number of tears that I shed as various things pushed me over the edge. The number of times I muttered to myself about the futility of trying to ice a cake in February in Brisbane what was I thinking why do I forget this every year. The stress I felt held over from the last birthday party, for C’s 6th birthday when we forgot a knife to cut the cake, the stress exacerbated by me starting to pack the things we needed for the cake like the cake knife and candles and matches WHERE ARE THE MATCHES sobbing and feeling like even the most basic party is beyond me it’s just a cake how hard is it?!

I found the matches.

I got three girls and one cake and one bag of cake-related necessities and 3 bags containing 30 party bags to the park. And girls started playing and kids started arriving and having a big play at the park, as I had hoped they would. Parents got to know each other. I found out most of the parent names and forgot at least a third of them. E played with two kids she’s never mentioned playing with before. I loved hearing her say over her shoulder as she got up and started running, “I’ve got to get more enchantments for the campfire”. In fact, E was having so much fun that when I found her and said I thought it was probably time we did the cake her response was, “No, thanks. I want to keep playing”.

Thankfully, she found me about 28 seconds later to say, “Actually, I changed my mind. I want cake now”. Thankfully, I had a mum take a photo of me with my girls instead of it just being me taking a photo of the girls. Thankfully, a mum stood next to me and helped me dole out cake and told each child to take it and sit under a tree so by the time every child had had a slice and some had had seconds, I looked up to see eight kids sitting on the big roots of a Moreton Bay fig tree with dappled sunlight splashing through as they all ate cake. Thankfully, people had to head off after cake and I wasn’t left being the Bad Mum who was actually having to drag her children away from her own child’s birthday party because dinner isn’t going to happen by staying at the party. Thankfully, one family coordinated their children and their own parents and their dogs and took one child home and came back with their car to ferry home all the presents. Thankfully, Glenn called on his way home and prepped a very simple dinner so girls could come in and wash hands and rip open presents oh my goodness me the presents and then eat and wash and go to bed and not sleep until stupid o’clock because what a day.

It was simple. It was more stressful than I anticipated. It was lovely. It was actually just what we wanted it to be. A simple birthday party for our E.

Linguistic Quirks

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

The main reason I started this blog was to document the now for our family. The big things like dropping naps and sleeping through and starting school, but also the little things, like the differences in how my children go to sleep or the way they like their food.

We are currently in a linguistic phase that I love. I know I should be doing gentle reminders of the way it should be, but honestly, my linguistic training taught me that that will come without me interfering anyway, probably. But the double past tense is here in E and I love it. And there are a few things that have disappeared that I knew would disappear but … small sob. I miss them.

Double past tense gems, that are probably really just gems for Glenn and me, but things like “gotted”. “I gotted some more popcorn but then I spilleded it”. “I slepted all night in my own bed”.  “I forgotted what I wanted to say”. “I wented downstairs without my shoes on and I gotted a prickle”.

Farewell to little turns of phrase that still are with me, like “by my own”. “I did it by my own” will likely remain with me for years to come. “The balloon has blown down” is one that actually will probably never leave us. When C started saying it as a toddler, my natural instinct was to correct, but what do you correct it to? She was perfectly correct. I have to really think about it to work out how to say “The balloon has shrunk” as what I would have said pre-C. “Another one more” has been like a little wisp of smoke that I can’t catch, but hearing “May you please give me another one more cookie”, for example, is a phrase that just melts my heart.

And there are little things that are just little things but make me smile every time. Like hearing E or S say – not putting it on, this is just how they say it – “Aww that is so adawable” – I mean, the way they say it is so adorable. Hearing E or S announce, “That is so hilarious”, or S declaring, “That’s wild”. When they think about it or are corrected, E and S will say “hotel” (or more accurately, hotail), but left to their own brains, it’s “fairytale”. “When we stayed at the white fairytale”. I have lots of “crickles”, which is what S says for freckles despite numerous attempts at correction. Which is fine for me, but when she says with a big smile to another dance mum, “You have crickles just like my mummy” and the dance mum thinks she means wrinkles and is not smiling quite so much anymore… quick explanation and she was back to smiling but oof.

When E started dancing towards the end of last year, she had ballet (or ballaig, as S calls it) then, according to class schedules, jazz and tap. Not for E. Jasmine tap. Which she totally adored, and even picked a jasmine flower to give to her teacher the next week. It took a few goes, but she (sigh) now does jazz and tap, very carefully, after ballet.

I didn’t notice it until daycare staff mentioned it in January, but they’re right – kids don’t use words they haven’t heard. So if a kid is saying multisyllabic words, it means they’re hearing them somewhere. Hopefully from parents and not so much from screens. The conversation with the staff then had me noticing all the times E will say something like, “It’s so soopendously hot”. It sure is, kid. It sure is.

S still comes in for cuggles. E still has huggles. All girls have BFF neckerlaces. Bracerlets are precious and definitely owned by their owner and returned to their owner if ever found in a random place. The last few days we haven’t needed sun scream because of the rain. S likes the ghosters at Halloween. I tell you all of this on Valentimes Day, when growmups did smoochy kisses and dinner was love heart pasta with parsley pesto and cherries and drizzled in olib oyal … or is it oller boil? So hard to distinguish. 

I know I have missed some. I know they will disappear, at least mostly. But my goodness me, I love these elements of language and childhood, so fleeting and precious.