Sunday. Baking Sunday.

Better than bloody Sunday.

We still aren't done with the baking. But we are dangerously close.

I swear I had the best intentions yesterday to be done. I really did. But it just did not happen. We made a lot of goodies. Translation: I made a lot of goodies. The Hub did dishes. The Big Kids helped some, but mostly sat around basking in the glory of the first day of winter break and the Wii. Ella ate. And napped some. That's what she does best. She's a professional eater.

This is what we ended up with (thus far anyway):

Peanut Brittle:

I slaved for HOURS on this. I mean it's CANDY, people. Do you now how hard it is to make candy correctly? It's HARD.

(It took 15 minutes. Including clean up.)

Peppermint Bark:

Three layers of it.

This has ganache. In the middle. Ganache is one of the best things. Ever. It's ridiculous.

Fudge:

Um... Yum. That is all.

Buckeyes:

This is what is in buckeyes.

Butter and peanut butter.

Powdered sugar.

Chocolate.

(By the way, that is my ghetto double broiler. Dutch oven + glass bowl. That's how I roll. Don't judge me. )

Don't ask me what the recipe is. I can't tell you. It's secret. What I can tell you though is that mixed in the right proportions those 4 things make a candy so good you might want to just go ahead and die after you eat it.

(It's not really secret.)

This is what they look like when they are done:

That one doesn't look like that anymore. It slightly more *ahem* pureed? In my stomach.

They look like an actual buckeye. Get it?

Only mine are delicious.

I confess: I was born in Ohio. Even though I moved when I was 10 days old I still like to say I'm from Ohio. I don't know why. Who really wants to be from Ohio anyway? My dad is from Ohio. He moved to California as soon as he could. He says the people who live in Ohio only do so because they haven't figured out how to get out of Ohio yet. No offense to those of you who live in Ohio. (Family: I love you all. Despite you living in Ohio.)

I digress.

Just as an aside... You should always have a wearable helper when baking. She doesn't look very happy but I promise she is. I look like I've been in the kitchen all day because I have and additionally like I don't own a hairbrush. My apologies. I do own a hairbrush. I'm like 98.7% sure.

Note: Don't worry I'm not going to set the Baby on fire. The stove isn't even on. The water was preheated to a boil, then shut off for safety. I haven't caught the sling on fire yet.

Back to business: We are putting the finishing touches on the sugar cookies and g'bread peeps. They aren't done because I am the Mother and I insist that all the children be present for the decorating. Non-negotiable. One of said children just left for a sleepover. Inside I'm secretly glad because I don't feel like making frosting right now. I do eventually run out of energy. Tomorrow is a new day my friends.

My couch and my behind are about to get reacquainted.

Like now.

But only for 15 minutes... then I have to go back into the kitchen and make dinner. I wonder if any mother has ever just put her bed in the kitchen?

Happy Holidays ya'll.

Sincerely,

the lady covered in various powdered ingredients