Baking Fail.

On a whim I decided to attempt to make some red velvet jar cakes, having never actually made or tasted red velvet cake or jar cake (yes, you can actually bake cakes in jars how utterly sublime is that?)

Yet despite emptying an entire small tube of red gel food colouring it remained an underwhelming brown.  Definately not at all red.

Never mind, onwards and upwards and all that jazz.  It's amazing what a speck of uncharacteristic optimism can do.

So I managed to make 12 cupcakes and 4 jars of cake.  The cupcakes were quite delectable, super light and fluffy.  However, the same cannot be said about the jarred cake which resembled a chocolate mess albeit a moist, squishy, rich, tasty, chocolate mess.  Having realised they weren't possibly fit, aesthetically, for the original top secret purpose I bunged a load of chocolate marscapone frosting on to them then plonked the lids on.  Thing One adores them, then again he literally inhales his food so that isn't exactly a dependable opinion. 

Back to the drawing board, am torn between admitting defeat and attempting a different type of jar cake.....

Meanwhile Thing Two's pot of melon seems to be thriving.... which will make it all the more devastating for her when they're transplanted outside and subsequently die.  Mayhaps we could buy some watermelons and sneak out one night leaving them outside where the seedlings go?




My ankle is still in pain, not that The Husband cares a jot.  However he was a smidgen more compassionate about my lack of sleep resultant from The Toddler feeding constantly due to teething and/or a growth spurt and 'allowed' me to whale in the bath for a while.  I haven't been out in a week, the cabin fever is mind numbing.  Thing One very helpfully dropped a full bottle of distilled vinegar on my ankle yesterday creating a brand new bruise to decorate the huge old one that still takes up the entire side of one ankle/foot.  Add to this I appear to have the skanky spots of doom devouring my throat I'm not a happy glamper.

Best dash, Thing Two is attractively lifting up her princess dress (complimented by stripy huggalugs on her arms) and pulling down her knickers (yes she remembered to wear some today, small mercies an all that...) to fart at Thing Two who's been howling (yes, literally as in wolf like) constantly just to irritate her.  She first tried to shut him up by throwing a tambourine at his head but that just got her into trouble.

The Toddler is stood next to where I'm sat, feeding (as usual) whilst transfixed to Willy Wonka, so mesmerised that he keeps forgetting to suck and then suckles furiously to catch up.

The room looks like we've been burgled and I must tidy it so The Husband can hoover. I'm half tempted to throw everything into The Toddlers house. If I wiggle when I bend over to do it, he'll be too distracted to care. He's fickle ( simple) like that.

'What happened to tidying your room [Thing Two]?' .... '...Another bomb must have gone off Mum' I have too many sighs and not nearly enough breath.