My Kermit the Frog Moment

The beautiful, yet hard as rocks, cupcake.

Warning: Before reading this post, I must warn you that what you are about to read might challenge your faith in me as a baker. But, have no fear, I still have the baking skills needed to create those yummy baked goods we all desire.


One day, on a date, my hubby and I got into this discussion about if we were one of the Muppets, who would we be. After going through the list of funny characters and their personalities, I heard my hubby say that he thought he was most like Kermit the Frog. I had to agree with him. Kermit is organized, runs the show from his front desk, has a bald, round head, and, periodically, has what we call in our house "spaz out moments". Moments where all emotions overflow, the world tips, and you share your thoughts at rapid speed. You've seen Kermit do this, right? The little green guy runs around the stage, long, wobbly arms flying over his head, usually shouting, "Miss Piggy!!!!".

Well, I, um, misheard my hubby and he actually meant I was most like Kermit. What??? I thought for a brief moment then I chuckled because one must chuckle at oneself when the truth is told. Yes, I run the show at our house. Yes, I keep the three kids moving in the right direction. I drive the bus basically. I also do, occasionally, have my "spaz out moments" but, don't we all?

Saturday was one of those moments and I laugh about it now. You would have laughed too had you watched the whole scene unfold that lovely afternoon. I had mentioned out loud that I was wanting to make a Red Velvet Cake and asked what celebration it could be for. The random celebrations that people came up with made me smile. Celebrations such as "Happy Epiphany Day!" "Happy I Got New Sheetrock in My Kitchen Day!" And, "Happy I am Your Friend and Never Had Red Velvet Cake Before Day!" And the list went on.

So I decided to make the cupcakes Saturday afternoon. Sounded relaxing. The kids seemed in a good space and so was I. They had had Daddy time in the morning. I had gone out with a friend. My dream afternoon. They would play, I would bake. All seemed good. Or so I thought....

My hubby went off to exercise and I begin to gather all the ingredients for this mouth-watering cake. I realized, as I was pilfering through my pantry, that I was missing 3 important ingredients: sugar (gasp! I know! When am I ever without sugar?), buttermilk (makes the cake oh-so-tender), and cake flour (essential, essential, essential). I can imagine by now that you have guessed this was not going to be gluten-free. But remember, this falls into that 20% gluten category. Gotta have my cake!

Without those ingredients, that should have been my warning sign. Stop now, Amy, stop now. But I forged ahead and made substitutions (bad idea!). As I begin to mix the first three ingredients, the doorbell rang. I stopped what I was doing, answered it, and had my ten minute conversation with my neighbor. By that time, my littlest one, who is always attracted to the kitchen when I am baking, had sidled up to the counter and proceeded to stick her fingers in the butter that was in the mixing bowl, leaving little finger tracks and then buttery fingerprints across the counter.

My littlest one loves to bake with me. She also loves to give me a play-by-play of everything we are doing while baking so it turns into this long one-sided conversation. I listen, try to figure out where I am in the recipe, nod my head a couple times, say uh-huh some more, and forget where I am some more. Baking to me is like running, a beautiful activity that requires no added talking. Obviously, my littlest thinks differently.

As I am continuing on through this recipe, my middle child is busy in the living room building with legos. An independent activity, you might think but, on this Saturday, it required many Mommy-Interventions and explanations.  Back and forth we went. Mom? Yes? What does this mean? Once again, I multi-tasked by trying to build a beautiful cake, carry on a conversation, lose my place in the recipe, and help build legos.

While the recipe-reading, one-sided conversation, lego-intervention adventure was going on, my oldest was marching around the house with a recorder, tooting it as loud and as cheerfully as she could. (A glimpse into my future as a musician and wife of a band director.) Background music at it's finest. There was much happiness in that recorder playing as I slid the doomed cupcakes into the oven and sighed.

As I set the timer, my hubby walked back in the door and I proceeded to have my "Kermit the Frog Moment" about the afternoon cupcake adventure and all of it's mishaps. How my dream of them playing quietly and me baking did not turn into a reality. I don't believe my arms were flailing around like Kermit's do, but probably pretty close. He just smiled, nodded, and sympathized. Good man.

How did the cupcakes turn out, you ask? Like little rocks. They looked beautiful and the frosting was fantastic, probably the best I have ever made. That night, for snack, we just licked the frosting off and relished in it's fluffiness. The kids commented that I must have forgotten something. Maybe the baking soda, Mom? Bless their little hearts...

By the way, I just finished baking a second batch of cupcakes. They smell amazing! Still got the skills, still got the skills! Whew!