Easy cupcakes to impress kids without spending much time in the kitchen

Today's post is all about giving you star mom power, without sacrificing much time. I'll give you two cupcake ideas, that will impress kids, cost little money or time. In fact, your 8-year-old, if she knows how to bake from a box, can do these herself. 

Do you ever promise to do something for your kids and then wish you hadn't? I like to be creative, but not in a time-consuming repeat-over-40 times way. Last spring I promised to make Bird soccer cupcakes to take to school (yes, at her school you can still bring homemade baked goods). I did it, even made enough for the soccer team, but it took over 6 hours. While the end results were awesome, I didn't want to sacrifice that much time on consumable food again. 

Bug's birthday followed a month later. She wanted cupcakes with equal wow-power. I couldn't give up so much time again. We found two cupcake designs, with high wow-factors that took very little decorating time. Even better, Bug and Bird were able to decorate several themselves without sacrificing quality. Since school is in full swing in every city (well, not Chicago...). And birthday girls and sports teams LOVE wow-factor cupcakes. And moms LOVE to serve them but don't have the time, let me share. 

For both cupcakes, I used Betty Crocker, butter recipe yellow. Because, well, they are cupcakes, and need to taste good and butter makes all baked goods better. For added wow-factor, find cute cupcake wrappers, my girls were excited about shiny foil. (I didn't show them the more expensive and fancier wrappers in Wilton sections at Michaels.)

Adorable monkey cupcake. Super cute. I found this image on Clyde's Cupcakes (the original site had a few other cute pictures if you want a monkey-themed party) and just imitated it. I made a nice chocolate butter cream frosting, used squeezable gel tubes for the eyes and mouth. The nose is a vanilla wafer and the ears mini vanilla wafers (I found snack size ones at Kroeger). Simple. Bake cupcakes. Decorating took enough for a class took less than 15-minutes working with my Bug. 

Fish Cupcakes. This year was Bug's turn to have a friend party for her birthday. She wanted to go swimming. Easy (I didn't even need to clean the house). But she wanted fish cupcakes. Hmm. Thank goodness for the Internet. The design I found was from Family Fun magazine. 

It was spring so pastel M&Ms were easy to find. I wanted pastel because matching the color of the frosting to the M&M would be easier. The mouth is an M&M cut in half (yes we bought the pastel and the regular M&Ms). The tail is a gum drop fruit slice, easy to find in a generic brand at most gas stations and drug stores. I bet you can't guess which fish I did and which ones my daughter did? 

Happy decorating. 

For the mom (and her friends) with a child who fails to thrive

I am so excited to restart the Mentor Mom series on Mondays (late today due to technical difficulties and a long weekend of traveling). I love reading the wisdom and hearts of other moms. I love encouraging each other. Take a deep breath, slow down, and read the touching words of Amber who returns for another potent sharing of her heart as a mom. Send this post to moms who need it, because many do. Remember to leave Amber some encouragement and please pray for her and her family.

Terrified. Complete darkness. Lost in my own room. As a child I woke up one night lost in darkness. I had walked in my sleep and awoke to a pitch black room. I grew up on a farm in Kansas. No street lamps. No porch lights. On cloudy nights not even the moon and stars could dent the darkness of my basement bedroom. 

On this particular night I had sleep walked around the room and ended up on top of my desk. I huddled on the desk’s ledge, not knowing where I was, scared to death, and desperate for light.

Twenty years later the feelings of desperation and panic aren’t as faint as I wish they were. It’s no longer a dark room that scares me. (The darker the room, the better I sleep these days!) Now my fear grows from the black hole of unanswered questions. Questions that have hung like a curtain for two years, rustling around me as our family has inched our way backstage into the world of special needs. 

This special needs world became our backdrop in September 2009. I didn’t know it at the time. All I knew on my youngest child’s birth day was that I was in love. My baby was sweetness defined! His two older siblings adored him. My husband proudly snuggled him. The grandparents found him adorable. And the doctors declared him perfectly healthy.

Chase came home with us to expectations of sleepless nights, endless feedings, diapers and lots of irresistible cuteness. I was after all a mom now to three– practically a professional in the mommy career. I knew what to expect.

What I didn’t expect was the first medical test at two months old. I didn’t expect the doctor’s concerns over Chase’s “failure to thrive.” I didn’t expect the MRI, the CT scan, the ultrasounds, the blood work. I didn’t expect Chase’s grandma, who always beamed over his accomplishments and sweetness, to point out his floppy body and lack of interest in toys.

Tests continued. Physical therapy started, along with occupational and speech therapy. Scared, but trying to ignore it, I gladly accepted the extra help. Chase just needed a little assistance to reach those initial developmental milestones. He would of course catch up to “normal.” Plenty of friends affirmed this thought, telling me stories of kids who had started out slow and were now just fine. 

But then the doctors started talking about finding a diagnosis. Doing genetic testing. And the darkness that had inched its way into my life crashed down on the boundaries I had set up to contain it. I could not keep it out.

This unfamiliar world scared me. I spent hours googling genetic syndromes. I searched for answers just as desperately as I had searched for the light switch in my basement bedroom. I wanted to identify the problem. I wanted to know what to expect. I felt sure a diagnosis would banish the darkness.

Chase will be three this month. We still don’t have a diagnosis. We still love him just as fiercely as the day we first held him. And I still feel a bit lost sometimes, not sure of where I am and where I fit within this new world of special needs.

Chase’s needs seem fairly mild when put on the special needs spectrum. He can finally walk, so the special walkers and ankle braces are gone. He doesn’t need a feeding tube. He looks like a pretty typical toddler. Without a diagnosis I have no specific support groups or websites to which to turn, even though I long to fit somewhere, to talk with moms who have seen this darkness.

Some days the darkness fades. Other days I panic because I can’t see answers. I don’t know if he’ll talk. I don’t know his cognitive abilities. I don’t know how long past normal diapers will remain in our house. I don’t know if I can ever expect normal sleep patterns.

On those days when the darkness is inky black, I have to choose to turn from the questions and focus on what I do know, on what I definitely can expect.

I know that Chase will always melt my heart. Even on the frustrating days when I cannot decipher his angry cries or day-long whimpers, I will never lose my love for him. And I know that the belly laughs and flirty smiles cannot stay away forever.

I know that my friends will always care about me and my child. They may not always say what I wish they would say or completely understand my feelings because half the time my emotions baffle me. But I know my friends will always care. If you are a friend to a mom with a special needs child, listen to her. Pray for her. Love on her child. Don’t minimize her concerns even if you’ve heard them before. Look for resources that could help her. You may not understand all that she is going through, but there are people and organizations out there that do. Help her find them.

I know that I will find help and resources from other moms in the special needs community. While I may not feel sure of how I fit in this world, I have found acceptance, resources and encouragement in this community. If you are a mom within the special needs community, be on the lookout for those of us who enter through the backdoor. We don’t have a diagnosis. We don’t know if our children have gene mutations or long-term disabilities. But we are desperate for answers, desperate for a light switch… or a flashlight. You can help!

I know that the One who sees light in the darkness is also the One who created my son. And I can trust him. 

"If I say,'Surely the darkness will hide me

and the light become become darkness around me

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day, 

for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

Psalm 139:11-14

Amber is a mom to three, including one princess, a photographer and a writer. She shares her heart for Jesus and for mothering on her blog Here...and the hope of glory. Previous posts on Pruning Princesses include Girls and Boys, When You Feel Like the Wrong Mom for Your Kid, and What a Youth Group Leader Wants Parents to Know. 

How to strengthen your marriage while you parent

My husband is a natural teacher. Give him a group and a subject and he can impart knowledge and make people laugh at the same time. I think there is a wind up key inside of him and it only gets wound right before a group presentation. 

He is a math teacher at a community college. If a biased wife can believe her own heart and the ratings on Rate my Professor, he is an amazing math professor.

And if they had a Rate my Coach site. I think he would have amazing reviews as a soccer coach. He passes on a love for football (the real name) and a high skill level that is rare in Michigan, north of Detroit.

But talent at coaching does not equate to ease in coaching your daughter. Having a dad for a coach is tough if your dad is serious about the sport rather than serious about making the sport all about fun. Sports teach discipline, mental toughness, teamwork, and passion for excellence. Fun is a side benefit, according to my husband.

My daughter has benefited from my husband's skills. She is a good player. But sometimes she comes home from practice with a scowl on her face. She is usually mad at her father--the emotions of taking a command to do something differently have clouded her mind and she confuses correction with anger or lack of love.  And in the dark space of her bottom bunk she unloads her frustrations to me before sleep. Except that more recently, a look of pained pause passes over that freckled face. She doesn't know what to tell me.

Telling me can be equivalent to telling her father. Nothing is safe. And some nights she begs me, "Don't tell dad." And some nights, wanting to pull the burdens out her heart, I am tempted to agree.

But I know better than to ease into the friend role, first I am a child of God, then a wife, then a mother. The order cannot be switched in the name of friendship with a child. Because secrets from your husband, even kept for your dear daughter, put cracks in the parenting wall that you and your husband form. And sometimes, my husband needs to know how she is feeling so he can address the issue or misunderstanding.

Wise words, read or heard somewhere, popped in my head. "Bird, dad is my partner is parenting. I can make no such promise. If I think your dad needs to know, I will tell him. If I think you are just venting and he doesn't need to know, I will be quiet. But I make no promise other than a commitment to pray about it."

Bird turned her back to me, said good night, and asked for her Bible. At least she would be pouring her heart to the One who could help.

When your own abilities are not enough

Oh Joy. It's 5-minute Friday day at Lisa Jo's. Link up with us and write, won't you? Today's word: Change. I went over time today. I had to finish the story!

For three years both girls went away for the day when school started. The first year, I struggled with how to spend my time. A whole seven hours without kids was luxurious and confusing. I adjusted. I loved it. 

Now we're home--to stay. Knowing how much I would sacrifice in time and friendships, I knew it wouldn't be easy. Now, learning is rich and connected and together. And the teacher, in me is loving this learning life. 

But the pressures are building. Every hole in their education, it now comes from me. Home all day means messes, all day. Figuring out how to still meet my friends, or to grocery shop, or just to steal an hour without someone needing me, touching me, or calling me. We have new habits to learn, changes to make (Can anyone be my cook for free?)

Yesterday it was too much. And small touches or too much wiggling. It all set me off. I cried at the sight of a friend at  a door. I was the extra mess yesterday. Unsure how my poor organization and introverted needs would survive the year, the tears refused my command to stop. 

Putting away some groceries in the deep freeze at 8 pm, God nudged me, "Surely I am with you always, even to the end of the age." I looked up (not at a beautiful sky but at the basement ceiling). On top of the upright freezer was one of those reusable grocery bags. It had stuff in it. Frustration filled me, as I grabbed the bag muttering about how I am the only one who picks up around here. Inside? My missing Bible, gone for for 6 months, the one I've had since my engagement-- with all my favorite verses underlined, the list of scriptures the girls and I have memorized, the dates of scriptures I've prayed. A long time friend, with leather soft from travels. I still hadn't found a comfortable replacement.

"Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age." --Matthew 28:20