cookie baked

Today we made Snickerdoodles.

Snicker ( no pun intended) and snort all you want about me…I’m baking again – don’t bash me folks- didn’t you read my previous post about Letting Go- No more no’s in my life!  Nothing is off limits at this point, the sky is the limit, ready to try anything…

Ok you sickos, get your minds out of the pornos – I am not doing that or that  –  And to hubs, don’t get any crazy ideas.

I never made snickerdoodles before but Gia loves them so I figured I would try them. There was a time when I had never even heard of a snickerdoodle before- sounded like something with chocolate and nuts, until this annoying roommate I had years ago in Hoboken made them.  Boy was she irritating- she would talk nonstop during funny sitcoms and eat her cereal really loud like crunching and munching and slurping away. It was enough to make you never want to pour a bowl of frosted flakes again- oh wait -did I say frosted flakes? I don’t know what made me say that- I spent my twenties choking down Fiber One and Kashi Good Friends in attempts to get things moving down below.


Did you ever see these cereal boxes for Good Friends, pretty hysterical with those smilng faces- Why is this cereal called Good Friends? Is it because you’re going to be a good friend once you get the poop out? Or perhaps the smelly presents you leave in the toilet are your good friends?  A former male boss of mine who was also gay, once came back from a trip to the little boys room ( I hate that expression but if the shoe fits…) and said that he “took a shit and it felt great and that releasing your bowels felt just as good as an orgasm.” I think I must have turned as red as a tomato and was rendered speechless…

These days I don’t bother with the fiber- these kids have me running on fumes and I really don’t have time to visit the loo so that’s that.

Back to the snickerdoodles, yikes all that potty talk, and now back to scrumptious sweets baked with delicate hands. This seems like the perfect time to show you that my muffin did indeed wash her hands today…

You can lick off these hands, they’re so clean!

When we were baking last week, Big D (remember him, my contractor) happened to sneak up on us while G was licking her fingers and going to town on the pink frosting we made…aww, snap – caught in the act!

Snickerdoodles are like the only thing that G wants in Target.  Well, that and the Pizza Hut pizza they serve there- this is my mistake or wait- I think I’ll blame my Mom for this one- yup, grandma bought her this once in Target and you know what they say about addictions, it just takes one time.  The thing is G doesn’t actually eat pizza, she takes all the cheese off and just eats the bread so the Pizza Hut personal pizza is a Godsend for little miss cheese-less.  The small brown box contains a mushy, doughy, greasy, sink your teeth into some old school deliciousness and she’s in heaven.

Not going to be stealing the secrets of Pizza Hut and recreating pizza in my kitchen so I decided to make cookies.  I always see foodie blogs where people show all the steps they took to make their delights so I figured I would be all professional and do the same.

Here’s the recipe I found on

makes 16-20 cookies

1/2 cup butter, at room temperature

1 cup sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

2 tablespoons milk

1/4 cup sugar + 1 tablespoon cinnamon for dipping

Preheat oven to 375.

Cream butter and sugar with an electric mixer until smooth. Add egg and vanilla, mixing well until combine, about 2 minutes. Stir in flour, baking powder, salt, and 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon. Mix until dough comes together. Add in milk. If dough is still crumbly, add milk 1 tablespoon at a time until it comes together. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

In a bowl combine remaining sugar and cinnamon. Remove dough from fridge and roll into big 1 1/2 inch balls. Dip in cinnamon sugar mixture and place on baking sheet. Lightly pressdown on dough to flatten it. Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes.

dough dough
Delicious dough that almost didn’t make it.

The little one saw this, dragged her chair over, climbed up, and turned the bowl over so she could use as a drum- her music class is really inspiring her to make music in all the wrong places…

Thank goodness she washed her hands!
ready to heat up
cookie baked
The entire house smelled of sugar and cinnamon!

Poor Daddy never gets any treats by the time he comes home.  We have either eaten them, given them away, or had children gobble them up during a playdate. We made a plate just for him.

That’s you daddy

It’s all just poop

Poop, poopy, a stinky, a smelly – It’s amazing how often this subject comes up in my day.

“I smell poop.” “Did you make a poop?” “Do you have to go poopy?”

“Mommy, I made poop.  You need to wipe me!” (This is something my daughter insists on although she is 4 and goes to preschool)

“Gia, can’t you do this by yourself at this point.  I’m sure the teachers don’t help you at school,” I exasperatedly say.

“No, at school I do it myself but when I’m home you have to do it!” she stated.

Hmmm, I think to myself, um ok, I seriously don’t have a clever response to this.

“Ok then, bend over.”    

“Mom, now the baby stinks! I smell a poopy”…and on and on it goes with the poop saga.

Growing up the very idea of making a poop was a private bathroom issue that was a solo act, nothing to be shared or spoken about.  This was certainly something I didn’t talk about with others. I never even heard my Mom say that she did this sort of a thing and Dad never used the guest bathroom, it was a very sequestered matter for him and he would never even dream of saying he had to poop.

The funny thing is that when you have small children, any sense of modesty disappears.  We are having our bathroom redone and the contractor was talking to me about the fan he’s going to put in the bathroom.  He said he was going to pick one up at Home Depot and it’s great because the fan he had in mind has a muted motor without the typical loud whirring noise. … “It’s super quiet, and…”

“Wait!”  I had to stop him there…

Super Quiet! 

 “You can’t get that one! How will our guests feel comfortable pooping!”

He’s like “Oh right true, especially when your bathroom is right here.” (close to the kitchen, where everyone gathers…) “People probably ask if you have a bathroom upstairs,” he chuckled. There is currently no fan. 

We discussed the fan and the poop noise more over coffee and came to the conclusion we would try a variety of types of fans, have one person use the toilet, while the other listens and then make a decision.

KIDDING! That would be disgusting! 

Later that day, I was thinking about our conversation- I didn’t even flinch or feel my face  suffer the flames of embarrassment talking straight poop.  Bathroom talk aside, he’s a man, which would have upped the embarrassment factor even more.  I suffered from extreme shyness talking to boys when I was a girl, in fact, even as an adult I found myself red faced and mumbly when I talked to men, other than my husband and family members!  Don’t know what that’s about but the way Arianna cries when little Johnny tries to kiss her in music class leads me to believe she suffers from this ailment as well.

Not so sure about my oldest, Gia.  Perhaps she isn’t comfortable with boys either, as of late, she is a tattle tale, telling on the boys.  She has just figured out a different way to deal with them – make them out to be the bad guys! 

Anyway, the point is, for me, having my girls around, makes me feel completely uninhibited when it comes to matters of the toilet bowl or really any matter.  There’s just something about being a Mom that makes you feel like a lion who can deal with anything that comes her way.  Watch out world- Momma Jill is queen of her castle…yes Tom(that’s my husband), it is a castle:)