Frumpification

I ran out of eyeliner a couple of weeks ago.  When we went shopping on Friday, I finally remembered to get some more, but the store was fresh out of my shade of choice.  No big deal, I thought.  I've got no one to impress.  I don't wear much make-up anyway, and I figured I could get by with just mascara.

Getting ready for church this morning, all I did for my hair was pin my bangs back, although to be fair this is more than I usually do.  I'd love to be one of those ladies with nicely coiffed hair, but I don't have the patience or the hairspray.  Or the skill.  My bangs are currently at that awkward phase where they are too short to be incorporated into the rest of my hair, and too long look great.  So pinned back they went.

Family pictures consist of Lewis, Jack, and me trying to make Jack smile.

During the first hour of church as I was headed back to the mothers lounge to feed Jack, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and discovered that I look decidedly motherish.  Inside I still feel the same as I did when I was fifteen.  But between my frumped-up face, practical hair, and squishy post-baby belly, I definitely do not look it.  I like to think that when people see me out and about with Jack they think that I am just his spunky baby-sitter.  After that look in the mirror, I know that that idea is more than a bit deluded.

Whatevs.  I can always hold on to that moment when that realtor came to my door last week and asked if my parents were home.  And my legs.  I've got good legs.

This pictures is an illusion.  I don't look like this.

Let's Make it Official

Today... I officially became a mother.

Just in time, too, what with Mothers' Day just around the corner.

But wait, Alyssa.  Isn't your child seven months old?  Haven't you been a mother all this time?

To that I say: sure.  But today it became official.

Today I was confronted with my greatest fear and I protected my child first.

Oh, are you now wondering what my greatest fear is?  Death?  Heights?  Public speaking?

No, no, and no.  My greatest fear, for the two of you who don't already know, is...

Dogs.

Yep, I'm a super lame-o who is peepants terrified of Canis lupus familiaris.  Nothing happened to me in my childhood to cause this.  I can't explain it.  It just always has been.

I recognize that as far as fears go, this one is pretty silly.  Sure some dogs are mean and/or vicious, but most, I'm told, are quite nice.

Don't care.  Still scared.

Go ahead, make fun.  I've heard it all.

This afternoon Jack and I were playing outside on our front lawn.  During a rousing rendition of "Pat-a-cake," our neighbor came out of her garage (our garages are not attached to our houses) with her two little humongous dogs, who immediately turned and began running in our direction.

My first instinct was to bolt inside and shut the door.  But it's not about me anymore.  It's about Jack.  Jack, who probably would have just been fine had these dogs sniffed him a bit before going inside.  But that's not the point.  The point is that dogs are scary.

But my mothering instincts kicked in and instead of saving myself, I grabbed my baby and held him and comforted him (he happened to be crying already) and pretended I was just fine as my neighbor apologized.  It's cool.  They're just dogs.

Shudder.

Then Jack tried to eat a rock and I saved him from that too by scooping it out of his mouth.

But really, who wouldn't save this face?

Jack's Eating Habits

Now that Jack has gotten used to solid foods, we have had fun giving him different things to try.  He still doesn't have any teeth yet (thank goodness, never been so glad I was wrong), but he sure does love to gum stuff.

When Jack likes something you give him, he will almost cry between bites if you don't give it to him fast enough.  When he doesn't like something, however, he gags like he's dying.  The first time he did that, it was after I gave him a small spoonful of pea puree.  He's not a fan.  Don't blame him.  Jack gagged again when I have him a tiny chunk of hot dog, while we were over at his grandparents' house.  Everyone thought he was choking while I just rolled my eyes at him looking like a callous mother because I knew the truth.  Jack can be a bit dramatic.

Jack LOVES to feed himself.  He warmed up considerably to both peas and hot dog when I let him eat them by himself.  And he's surprisingly good at it.  The way he picks his little bits of food up isn't quite a pincer grasp, but it's too advanced to be a mere raking grasp.  It's sort of a hybrid of the two.  And highly effective.  And then, the first time he managed to get the spoon from me (he reaches for it every time it comes near), he surprised me by putting the right end directly into his mouth, using his free hand to guide it.  He's such a smartie.  Now I let him feed himself for a portion of every meal.  Not the whole meal, though.  He's messy.

After fighting with him for half an hour, I finally just dumped his peas onto his tray and let him play in them.  He will eat them when mixed with carrots, however, which he also does not like by themselves.

Jack's favorite thing, though, is definitely to just grab fistfuls of food and stuff them into his mouth as quickly as can be.  The only reason he practices his pincer grasp at all is because I will usually only give him a single cheerio or tomato bit or what-have-you at a time.

Last Saturday night we went out for Thai food with Lewis' parents.  Lewis' mother thoughtfully brought along a banana for Jack and while we were waiting for our food, I mashed it up and fed some to him.  When our food arrived, however, I want to eat so I placed a small scoop of rice in front of Jack.  Oh em gee, he went nuts.  Absolutely crazy.  He couldn't get enough of it.  He squished it through his fingers.  He rubbed it all over his face.  He dumped it down the front of his overalls.  He occasionally got some in his mouth.  It was adorable.  We kept having to replenish his supply.  I feel bad for the people who had to clean up under his high chair after we'd gone.

He does the same thing with bread.  After finding a tasty sandwich bread recipe that only takes an hour, start to finish, I've taken to making my own bread regularly.  Last week I forgot to add salt to the dough.  But guess who doesn't care?  Jack.  A while after one meal I found bread crumbs all over his diaper while undressing him for his bath.  He had dumped them all down his shirt.

I've got to say, I really appreciate having a kid with such a passion for food because Lewis and I really like to cook and bake.  It's been a lot of fun to plan his meals and watch him enjoy them (or not and gag on them as the case may be), even if it means a bigger mess for me to clean up each day (I sweep all the time now).  Plus we discovered his affinity for ginger snaps which gives me an excuse to buy them cause I love them too and I don't have a satisfactory recipe to make my own.

Now if only he would outgrow his milk allergy.  Lewis and I make a lot of dishes with or that would go well with dairy.

Take a Trip to Taste

If you are looking for a fun, educational and, most importantly, delicious night out, may I recommend you head to Gardner Village to take a cooking class at Taste Culinary Boutique?

Lewis and I got to do just that for our first date since before Jack was born.  Right?  We're awesome.

We took a couple of cooking classes last year and really enjoyed them, so we were eager to take some more.  When I heard about Taste, I was especially excited to take classes there.  Taste specializes in international cooking, something I have been wanting to get better at making.  I've got a few good recipes from around the world, but they are all decidedly Americanized.  Learning to make more authentic dishes has been at the top of my to-do list.  Enter Taste.

Pan con Tomate - with bites already taken.

Last night's class was all about Spanish tapas, taught by Laila Hardman.  If you are like me and do not know what "tapas" are, they are appetizers from Spain.  Amazing appetizers, that is.

Chorizo - my favorite of the tapas.

Laila demonstrated how to make six different tapas.  The best thing about them was that they all used accessible ingredients.  It's a pretty great feeling to know that I don't have to go out of my way to make authentic Spanish food.  I've been to other cooking classes where the instructor has used ingredients that have to be special ordered from who-knows-where sketch town, but that's not how they roll at Taste.  I can get all the ingredients I need, for all six tapas, right her in lil' ol' Utah.

Patatas Bravas - Lewis' favorite.  He is making some as I type.

The format of the class was very easy-going and laid back.  Laila demonstrated each of the tapas while we took notes and - more importantly - ate the finished ones.  Oh my heavens, they were delicious.  

Tapas de Cangrejo

Throughout the lesson, Laila showed off several cool gadgets that they sell right there in-store.  Lewis and I kept a running list of all the stuff we just have to get now.  If anyone feels the need to buy me a present, come talk to me first.  I have some ideas (coughcoughMother's Daycoughcough).

Honey and Vinegar Drizzled Peppers

Taste offers a variety of classes, taught several nights a week.  If you find yourself in Utah or Salt Lake counties, you should definitely make your way to Taste and learn to better your mad kitchen skills.  And give me a call when you go - I want to come too.

Gazpacho - I forgot to take a picture until I had eaten half of it.  I was eager.  Sue me.

Date Night Anxiety

Tonight we hit a new milestone.  Jack had a baby-sitter for the very first time.

And I was terrified.

Not for Jack.  I knew he would be fine.  No, I was terrified for my dear brother, who volunteered for the job.

Since we wouldn't be home until well after Jack's bedtime, the plan was to put him to sleep before we left, with the hope that he would just sleep peacefully the entire time we were gone.  This wasn't an unreasonable thought.  The starting time of our engagement required us to leave our home a mere thirty minutes prior to Jack's usual bedtime.  And he was a peach and got up thirty minutes early this morning - perfect!  Most nights he has no trouble at all going to bed and staying asleep for a good seven or eight hours initially.  We planned to be gone for only three.

And yet terrified I was.

You see, since Jack is such a precocious little lad, he has been in the throes of separation anxiety for many moons now.  This is especially bad at night.  We've tried to have Lewis go in his room to comfort him when Jack wakes up at night only to have the poor child trying to claw his way to the door from whence he knows I will come.

Sometimes a menace comes in a small package.

We're working on it.

I knew that if Jack did happen to wake up while we were gone, and I was not there, he would not even kind of be a happy camper.  I knew that if this were to occur, Daniel would get screamed at.

And it would be unpleasant.

While we were out, Lewis sent a text message asking Daniel if Jack was still asleep.  When he did not respond, we had our answer.

Sorry, Daniel.

But miracles do happen.  I fully expected to come home to a crying baby that needed me, his dear mommy, and who would be desperately happy to see me.  Instead I came home to a peacefully sleeping baby.  Because Daniel is awesome like that.

And I was only a teeny bit disappointed that I didn't get to cuddle Jack one last time tonight.

In other news, the reason we were out was to attend a cooking class at Taste Culinary Boutique.  We learned how to make delicious Spanish tapas.  Tune in tomorrow to read my review.

The Great Utah ShakeOut

I spent a full minute under my kitchen table today.

Oh, you want to know why?  Well, I will tell you.

Utah, the state in which I live, today hosted "The Great Utah ShakeOut" to promote awareness about how to respond during an earthquake - evidently we've been overdue for "a big one" for some time now.  At 10:15 this morning, everyone in the state was invited to participate in a minute-long earthquake drill.  I could have downloaded a thing so that sirens played on my laptop at the designated time, but I trusted myself Siri to remember to do it.  Plus Jack is usually napping (and was this morning) at 10:15 and I didn't think a fake earthquake was a good enough reason to rouse him.  I also don't believe sirens will spontaneously ring forth from my computer during an actual earthquake.  I invite the government to prove me wrong.

Some things I learned today, in relation to the earthquake drill.

* I really need to clean better under my table.  Especially since its Jack's new favorite hangout.

* I'm getting old.  My bones ached after just that measly minute.

* If there really was an earthquake that caused us to need our 72 hour kits, we would have plenty of candles, food, and toothpaste.  Clothing?  Not so much.

* That doorway thing is a myth.  You will not be any safer during an earthquake if you seek shelter in a doorway.  Which is a real bummer cause that sounds much more comfortable than under my table.

* Considering we had a table collapse in our kitchen a few years back, and we purchased our current kitchen table from Craigslist, I'm not confident that under it is the safest place during an earthquake either.

* I really should get out more.  That earthquake drill was the highlight of my day (closely followed by a trip to the post office).

You can read about other people/groups who participated in the ShakeOut by following this link.  Their experiences were far less lame than mine.

Yes, I did register.  As an individual.  Cause that's just how I roll.

Oh yeah!  My brother visited today.  That was the highlight.  Sorry ShakeOut and post office.

My Daily Workout

I know that I blog a lot about poop.  But that is because it consumes so much of my life.  So get ready for another one!

Jack has always liked to move.  I feel confident this is something I have mentioned before.  Until recently this was not a problem during diaper changes.  Times change.  Now that he can crawl, sit up on his own, and pull himself to his feet, it's... difficult.  His favorite thing to do the second I put him on his changing table is to roll over and scoot to the edge to peer over the side to the floor below.  Gone are the days that I could distract him by giving him a toy to chew on.  No longer can I con him into looking at me by making silly faces.  Now he twists and turns and tries to wiggle out of my grasp throughout the entire process.

This morning was the worst.

Jack was poopy and I was not very awake.  He's had a rash, so I had to put cream on it, adding an extra layer of challenge to the process.

I recently discovered that I could keep things under control by holding his ankles in the air, the entire time.  I've gotten very adept at doing everything else required for a diaper change one-handed.  So this is what I did when Jack began his hippin' and hoppin'.  But the little booger seemed to have grown in strength overnight.

Poop everywhere.  Diaper rash cream all over my hand, arm, and Jack's leg - pretty much everywhere but his bum.  At one point Jack was upside down, completely in the air.

Yep.  I have a lot of poop in my life.

This pretty much sums up Jack's life nowadays.

Premature Wear and Tear

I have gray hairs.

I first noticed them cropping up when I was about 21.  Since then, they have steadily increased in number.    Lewis told me that they must be preemptive - they showed up early because I would have a kid that would cause so many my head would probably explode if they all showed up then.

After today, I think I believe him.

Jack is more than a little ambitious.  Now that he has mastered crawling, he is desperate to move on to bigger and better things.  I was hopeful that getting over his fear of crawling in the kitchen would take longer and he would be stuck on that one for a while.  He wasn't.

Now Jack's big thing is trying to pull himself to his feet.  He can do it, but he has really bad balance.  He moves so much and he's got what I lovingly refer to as infant ADHD so he falls over essentially all the time.  And bumps his head and stubs his little toes and scrapes his knee, etc., etc.

My point is, he spent most of the day crying because he kept hurting himself.  And it was exhausting.

He's a smartie, though.  He does stuff like the following just often enough that he has me completely wrapped around his little finger.

Jack woke up too early, but then snuggled with me until a reasonable hour.

Good Gratitude

If I am to infer anything from my baby pictures, I liked to get into stuff.  I have photos of me digging through grocery bags, the VCR, and my mother's purse.

Nothing was safe around baby Alyssa.

So who could have predicted that I would have a child who also likes to get into stuff?

Jack has been dying to tip over a trash can for ages.  He watches us throwing stuff away all day long and it's all the stuff he wishes he could have.  Tissues to bunch up in his hands and rub on his face.  Pieces of cardboard that are quite tasty and full of fiber.  Plastic grocery bags that make delightful sounds when you wave them about.  The trash can is a treasure trove of dreams come true for my little seven-month-old.

Luckily for my floors and Jack's hygiene, I am pretty good at not leaving him alone in a room with an accessible trash can.  The kitchen trash used to be safe because Jack was afraid to crawl on the linoleum.  He got over that fear today, so I will have to be extra vigilant about watching him when we are playing downstairs.

Another recent obsession for Jack is the little spring door stop behind our bedroom door.  He loves flipping it and listening to the sound it makes as it wiggles back into place.  Jack can play with that door stop for minutes at a time, which is a lot for a baby.  He loves it so much, I have felt comfortable leaving him to it while I do my hair or makeup.  I can hear him playing from there and he doesn't have to be trapped in baby jail for no reason.

But apparently Jack has been picking up on some magic trick tips from his father.  He does something for so long that you fixate on that while he is secretly plotting against you.  This morning I left him playing with the doorstop while I used the bathroom's facilities.  I was so confident in his appreciation for all things springy that I didn't even notice when the sound of his playing changed from "boing!" to "swish, swish."

Lewis and Jack exchanging tips.

Upon exiting the bathroom I discovered my dear son with a big silly grin on his face, playing in the garbage he had dumped all over himself.

But never you fear, there was a bright side!  First of all, the fact that it he knocked over the bedroom trash can rather than the bathroom or kitchen.  Second, the piece of garbage he selected for his chewing delight was an empty paper prescription bag, rather than the abundance of snotty tissues that had previously occupied space in that can.

I feel like I've shown a lot of maturity today by being so grateful in spite of Jack's capers.  I better turn in early.

Smell Bad!

If you ever wondered what the Bog of Eternal Stench from the movie Labyrinth smells like, all you need to do is come visit us and take a whiff outside our front door.

Holy mother of snow peas, it STANKS.  I'm not sure what it is, exactly, that is causing the odor, but whoever the culprit is needs to get their ducks in a row and soon.  I'm just glad that it's spring break and Lewis and I have a lot planned away from our neighborhood.

The following is a list of things we have decided it smells like:

-A chubby baby's neck when it's had a bunch of gunkies stuck in it for several days.

-A teenager's armpit soaked in fermented melons after he ran a marathon in the jungle.

-The Febreze couch before they spray it.

-Someone who has sulfur gas and has been sprayed by a skunk.

-A school bus full of pre-pubescent boys who have not yet learned about deodorant after a field trip to the dump.

-An airplane what is full of naked people with no doors and no windows (thank you for that one, my dear nephew).

-An old gym sock forgotten in a locker with September's ham sandwich, discovered in March.

-Hockey skates filled with salmon eggs and poop.

-Death.

Chirp, Chirp. I'm Crazy.

A few weeks ago the smoke detector in our guest room started chirping.  No big deal, Lewis took it down and removed the battery.  Awesomely, the detector continued chirping after the battery was removed, so Lewis had to take the detector completely off the ceiling until we could get a new battery in it (which we couldn't right that second).  A little inconvenient, but whatevs.

The next morning, just after Lewis left for school, the smoke detector in our bedroom started chirping too.  Now I like to think of myself as a reasonably competent woman.  I may not be able to properly fry an egg, but I can certainly change a battery in a smoke detector.  That is, so long as I can reach the smoke detector.  You see, our lovely bedroom in our lovely house has lovely vaulted ceilings.  They're not super high, but they are high enough that to reach the smoke detector I would probably have to put a chair on a step stool on a chair.  And about seven plus nine months ago I promised Lewis I would stop risking my life to access things out of reach (which, coincidentally, is the reason we have a step stool in the first place).  So I planned a whole day for Jack and me to be out of the house to remove ourselves from the incessant chirping.

But then the chirping stopped and we stayed home and I forgot about it.

Jack woke up to eat at 5:30 this morning.  Shortly after I started feeding him, the chirping in our bedroom started again.  Lewis usually gets up at about this time to get ready for school, so naturally this had to happen during spring break and he was still asleep.  It hurt my heart to wake him up (I'm a nice wife), but I wanted to go back to sleep so awake Lewis needed to be.  The five inches he has on me were just enough to shut that chirping down.  We both settled back down to sleep and all was well.

That is, until, I heard three small clicks and that shock of fear ran through my body.  I just knew that that was our front door and someone had just broken into our house.  I was terrified, particularly since Jack was asleep on the other side of the house.  Lewis and I slowly and illogically crept downstairs to confront the intruder.  Why we didn't just hunker down in Jack's room with a 911 operator on one of our cell phones, I will never know.  I guess we really like our TV.  I suppose it's probably a good thing, though, that we didn't because there was no intruder.  We peeked outside and found our neighbor fiddling with the Christmas lights on our shared tree.  Turns out that three of them right outside our door had exploded (the three clicks we heard) and he was trying to fix them for us.  Makes sense.  Who doesn't need Christmas lights on in April?

What a night!  I remember distinctly thinking that I should definitely blog about this adventure.  And then I woke up and realized that I had dreamed everything that had happened after Lewis replaced the smoked detector battery.

Yeah, I think I need more sleep.

I blame him.

Easter Sunday

I usually use this blog to amuse myself and to get others to validate my outlandish and/or stubborn points of view, but occasionally (re: the last post) I like to get serious.  This is one of those times.

In my adult life, I've always had a difficult time bearing my testimony.  I know that it is an important thing to do, but I've always been a scaredy-pants or something.  Recently, however, I've recommitted myself to being better about listening to the promptings of the Spirit (call it my General Conference resolution), and I've felt like I should share my testimony on here.  It's kind of weird, and definitely out of my comfort zone, but here it is.  Out there.

I'm a Mormon.  Most of you probably are already aware of this, but just in case you didn't, there it is.  I am grateful that I have a knowledge of the restored Gospel on the earth.  I know that Jesus Christ died for me and suffered for my sins, as well as those of my family and friends.  And yours.  I also know that he was resurrected, paving the way for us to be as well.

I haven't always had a strong testimony.  There was one semester in college where I really struggled.  I was taking a class for my major at the time and some of the required reading left me rattled.  In the end, I nearly failed the class and ended up changing my major, but my testimony was retained.  Worth it.  I now know more than ever that the Gospel is true.

Since today is Easter, please follow this link to a video, commemorating Christ's suffering, death, and resurrection.  He is our Savior and He lives.

Happy Easter.

I am Mother, Hear Me Roar

"You're doing a great work."

While Jack and I were at the mall today, an elderly gentleman stopped us and said this to me.  I wasn't doing anything particularly special.  Jack was in the baby carrier and we were just walking towards the store I needed to visit.  But I was very touched that this man recognized me as a mother and acknowledged the work I do to raise Jack.

While I can't now imagine making any other choice, it was a difficult decision for me at the time to leave my career to stay home with Jack.  I loved being a teacher, and I like to think I was pretty good at it.

Now, though, that I have spent the past seven months with my baby, I am so so glad that I made the choice I did.  I miss teaching.  A whole lot.  But to miss everything I get to see Jack do every day, crawling and babbling and finally sitting up?  That would be unbearable.

I'm very blessed that I even get to stay home with Jack each day.  Some mothers don't have that luxury.  That doesn't make them bad moms.  I know that those moms love their kids just as much as I love Jack.

Being a mother is work.  But that man at the mall was right.  It's a great work.  Every mother that loves her child, no matter what her situation, is doing a great work.

Whew!  Heavy stuff!  But I was touched, and I've been trying harder to be appreciative of those moments.  So there you go.  Go moms!

What Goes In Must Come Out

"The next time you're tempted to groan, you might try to laugh instead.  It will extend your life and make the lives of all those around you more enjoyable."
Joseph B. Wirthlin, "Come What May, and Love It," October 2008

It's 7:20 and I am ready for bed.  Today was just one of those days.  When he wasn't getting into mischief, Jack was incredibly fussy and clingy.  I was recently reminded of the above quoted talk and found that it was very applicable today.  There were several opportunities to groan and while I might not have quite succeeded at laughing at the time, I feel like I could have had much more negative reactions than I did.

Jack recently learned to give kisses.  He will only give them to me, though, because Lewis is bearded.  They are open-mouthed and insanely slobbery, but I love them.

Allow me to illustrate.

First of all you should know that Jack is your classic baby.  Anything that he can get into his mouth, he will put in his mouth.  I even caught him licking up his own spit up off the kitchen floor once - sick, right?

Before he decided he had to be in my lap full time today, Jack was playing quietly on the floor in the TV room.  Too quietly.  I paused in my cleaning of the kitchen to go see what he was doing.  I discovered him with a clump of carpet in his hand and little bits of it in his mouth.  Apparently we have had some loose stuff around the back door.

Later when I was trying to feed him before his afternoon nap I discovered he still had a piece left in his mouth.  Fabulous.  I will discover tomorrow how much carpet made it to his stomach.

And then there was dinner.

A few weeks back I made the executive decision to tuck his bib behind the tray to his high chair when he eats, because if it is on top of the tray, it ends up in his mouth.  He was having his regular amount of food for dinner - some oatmeal and a few ounces of a vegetable, in this case, butternut squash.  He was eating it all hungrily and wasn't even making as big of a mess as he usually does.  He was almost finished and Lewis had just come home from school.

And then he burped and it came back up.  ALL of it.  And maybe a little extra, because I'm pretty sure I didn't feed him that much.  Since his bib was tucked into the tray, the spit up went all the way down his front, and pooled at his seat.

Remember to laugh remember to laugh remember to laugh.

Especially since this was the happiest I had seen Jack all day.  He thought it was hilarious.

I think I just sat there and stared for several minutes, trying to figure out what exactly to do.

What goes better with an orange bib than orange food?

Thank goodness Lewis had come home when he had.  He ran a bath while I gingerly removed Jack's tray, bib, clothes, and diaper.  Actually, Lewis had to help with the clothes.  He unsnapped the onesie and pulled it off while I held Jack at arms length.  Of course Jack picked that moment to not bear any of his weight for the first time ever.

Into the tub Jack went and his high chair made its way to the shower to be hosed down.  No harm done.

Baby seats were made to be cleaned.

Right now he is sleeping peacefully.

And I am laughing.

Upcycling

I've always liked the idea of the mug cake.  I like cake, but it takes too long to just make a cake, and then what if I were to eat it all?  No good, no good at all.

Enter mug cake.  A single serving of cake, conveniently cooked in the microwave.  Craving to stomach in under five minutes.  Perfect!  Right?

Wrong.  Mug cakes are gross.  Go ahead and leave your comment about this or that great mug cake you've come across in your days of interneting or one-serving snacking, but it won't make any difference to my opinion of them.  I have tried countless mug cake recipes in the desire to find an ideal convenient sweetness satiator.  And I've come up with nil.  Cakes just weren't made to be baked in the microwave.

Last time I made a mug cake, I let Lewis (who understood from the start that mug cakes are not a good idea and has consistently declined my offer to make him one) take the gooey dregs to pour over his ice cream.  All we had was vanilla, see, and to have just plain old vanilla ice cream felt, well, a little vanilla.  Any topping was better than no topping at all.  As it turns out, it was pretty darn amazing.

For FHE tonight I mixed the batter for a mug cake and stuck it in the microwave for half the required time.  What exited my microwave was a gooey delicious mess of heaven.  It made the perfect topping.  I'm not normally one to boss people about, but you should try this.  Post haste.

Unless of course you don't like chocolate.  Or ice cream.  Or happiness.