A Recipe for "Pick me Up" Disaster

Ingredients

• rich, creamy things
• a strong sense of oneupsmanship

Directions

Tell the kids that they might have previously tasted Tiramisù, and you might have previously made Tiramisù, but you will now make it together, thus elevating your collective Tiramisù experience.

Say "Tiramisù" so many times, the word looses all meaning.

Decide to go with The Pioneer Woman's recipe, because it looks straightforward and tasty.

Go to a fine liquor warehouse with your kids and look like a degenerate as you debate Marsala wine vs. brandy and bark at them to keep their hands off the tiny bottles of vodka.

Remind your husband just how many steps there are to the recipe for you to potentially f**k up, to mitigate his expectations.

Begin cooking at 5:00pm, because there's nothing better than starting a recipe with the kids that probably won't be ready before bedtime.

Impress your kids with your ability to separate eggs.

Tell them that it's not okay to taste the brandy now, but it's totally okay to taste it once it's mixed into the recipe.

Double-boil the zabaglione like a pro and get a mild contact buzz.

Pull out the marscapone to bring to room temperature.

Make a mad dash to the store when you realize you don't have enough marscapone, because you apparently don't remember how many ounces constitute a pound. (Hint: it rhymes with brixteen)

Reminisce about the era when you and your husband fell in love with Tiramisù and tried it everywhere it was offered, even from the Trader Joe's freezer case. (Hint: take it fresh, or not at all)

Caress your stand-mixer as it lovingly whips your heavy cream.

Fold it all together gently, then swear you're going to use the beater for just a second, yet act all surprised when it ends up a bit overwhipped.

Whatever.

Totes cheat and use powdered espresso.

Layer with these weird soft lady fingers that taste awesomely like poundcake.

Be liberal with the cocoa dusting, because it's fun.

Tell husband you're going to add the extra liquid to your morning coffee; Nod when he says "drunk."

Let it marry for 2 hours in the fridge and feed some to your bath-fresh sweethearts directly before lights-out.

Cackle at your previous concern that you wouldn't be able to eat it all up in the 24-36 hour window of deliciousness while eating your second chunk.

...And I'm All Out of Bubble Gum

Congratulations, 2012: you kicked my ass.

Don't let the final score fool you--I'm still standing, but last year put up a good fight and landed many good punches.

Bam! If you watch enough news, you'll hear that someone you always/never suspected did something terrible/wonderful to someone who did/n't deserve it. Thanks, 24-hour news cycle.

Blamo! Rejection by others doesn't mean you're finished, it just means it's time to explore alternate routes. Thanks, graduate programs.

Hiyaaaaah! You can't control anything but your self. You can mold your children, you can try to mold/manipulate others, but they don't come with controls or power switches. Your life is a story, but the people in it aren't "characters". Thanks, family.

Shoryuken! Home ownership...is great? Sucks? Both? More? Renting is...challenging? A godsend? Refined torture? Dumb? Thanks, house.

Biff! Good things sometimes happen to bad people, and bad things sometimes happen to good people; usually good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people; more things than we can handle often happen to all of us. Thanks, life.

I spent the first week of the year watching food documentaries, one after another, on the Netflix. That's not all I did, but it's most of what I did. Now I'm full of an even larger spoonful of healthy skepticism about the American food system, and my family is paying for it in organic groats and kale. There may come a time when I cannot afford to eat this clean, or cannot easily access such healthy, whole foods, so I'm doing it now while I can. Two weeks and it becomes habit, right? Here's to becoming a habitual clean eater.

I spent the second week of the year at a writers' retreat in Chicago. It was splendiferous.

I will likely spend the third week of the year doing the same thing I'll do all the remaining weeks of 2013: parenting like there's no tomorrow; reading like it's going out of style; talking too much; hugging to the point of annoyance; petting the cat; writing until I get it right; traveling to the corner, to the city limits, to infinity and beyond; living like there's not enough time; loving like there's only this moment. Probably throw some baking in there, too, and some Elementary, Glee, The Mindy Project and Parks and Rec. And New Girl. And Doctor Who, clearly.

Cannonball.