Caramel Apples and Carved Pumpkins

My girl and I were playing a game coming out of the store today:

Me: If my life were a book, all three kids would like me at the same time on the same day (it's been one of those days).
Her: If my life were a book, I'd have a Westie (her favorite dog that she has asked for a gazillion times and will most likely keep on asking).
Me: If my life were a book, I would never have to wait in line at Wal-Mart (today was like the night before Christmas in that place).
Her: If my life were a book, I would have snow every day (one thing she misses about the Midwest is snow; of course, she never had to shovel it).

This went on for some time until I got swamped in traffic and could no longer think and drive at the same time. Had I known the impending disaster waiting for me at home, though, I would have added:

If my life were a book, my caramel apples would have turned out just as beautiful as the ones I watched Giada make last weekend on the Food Network.

No such luck. It was suggested that I look up the directions on the internet before making them. Whatever. I've got a good memory and I can picture those apples just fine. A bag of caramels, apples, sticks, chocolate chips for melting and black and orange sprinkles. What more do you need?

Evidently ability and talent is required. Who knew?

Maybe I was trying too hard. Today started off just rotten following a little teenage drama last night. Nobody's in trouble, nobody got hurt... just stuff that happens that I have no control over. I hate that.

We don't necessarily celebrate Halloween so I had the bright idea to make those apples just to do the "mom thing" and have my three kids ooh-ing and aah-ing over the motherly things that I do. I know this is stretching things a bit. They just don't quite look at me anymore with those you're-so-awesome-mom eyes that toddlers have when you hand them a cupcake. It's more like the you're-so-lame-mom look when I sing along to Bon Jovi on the classic rock station.

Of course, now they have the caramel apple disaster to consider:

Problem #1: Not enough caramel.
Problem #2: Redo's don't necessarily work.
Problem #3: Chocolate wouldn't drizzle.
Problem #4: Giada's weren't this ugly.
Problem #5: Wax paper permanently glued to the bottom of apples.

What a mess! I was determined to enjoy those apples, though, so with my shadow at my side, we each took one and armed with a towel, headed outside. She had chocolate on her nose and I had caramel stringing everywhere and to be honest, neither one of us could say that we completely enjoyed the whole experience.

Well, I take that back. I think we did enjoy it. I had to push her hair back because her hands were completely covered in chocolate that didn't quite set up (Note: Magic Shell ice cream topping does NOT work in this instance... her idea, not mine). We laughed and I sang silly songs and she rolled her mascara-coated eyes. She went in to get a wet washcloth and we warned the boys in advance to watch out for the wax paper and keep a towel handy.

Nobody was ooh-ing and aah-ing, though. Nobody hugged me out of the blue. So I did something I haven't done for probably fifteen years. I carved a pumpkin. That got their attention.

One joined me on the porch. One watched me through the door. And one said, "Wow. I can't believe you're really doing that."

I scooped out the goop, cut out a cross, and put a candle inside. Okay, maybe this one was for me. I needed to look at what crud I've been carrying, remind myself of my salvation, and then let my family see it.

I'm sure they think I'm crazy and wonder what in the world I might pull next. But then again, they're the teenagers, right? I wonder that about them almost every day.

How does this tie back into the caramel apple disaster? I have no idea. Except maybe when they look back on their childhood years and are swapping stories while I bounce grandbabies on my knee, one of them will bring up that time that Mom made a sticky mess in the kitchen and then cut up a perfectly good pumpkin on the front porch.

Of course, if they think I'll be able to explain it any better then, they're in for a surprise. I can't explain it now.

I can't wait to try those apples again next year, though. Next time I'll look up the directions and grease the wax paper first. Now that will be sure to impress them.