The Infamous Cool Whip Cookies

Cool Whip Cookies

Cool Whip Cookies

I’ve seen them all over Pinterest lately, so I had to try to make them.  Easy, yeah… sure.  Messy, definitely.

I hate to make anything where I actually have to play with the dough.  I hate getting food stuffs stuck under my nails.  I hate having to hurriedly wash my hands and still have them gooey to answer the phone/door/dogs.

But they turned out delicious in the end.  Which is good, as I made 10 dozen of them for my daughter’s youth group tonight.  I did have to modify the recipe slightly.   I had to add an extra 1/4 cup of cool whip per batch.  And add a significant amount to the cooking time, from 8 to 12 minutes.

Cool Whip Cookies
Author: Clever Housewife
Recipe type: Dessert
Prep time:  
Cook time:  
Total time:  
Serves: 20-24
  • 1 package (18.25 Oz. Box) Cake Mix
  • 1 cup Cool Whip
  • 1 Large Egg
  • 1 cup Powdered Sugar
  1. Preheat oven to 350°.
  2. Mix all ingredients, except powdered sugar, until well combined.
  3. Roll a spoonful of dough between hands, forming a ball. Then roll ball of dough in powdered sugar.
  4. Place on a cookie sheet and bake for about 8 minutes.
  5. Voila!

Again, I added a 1/4 cup of Cool Whip, and upped the baking time from 8 minutes to 12 minutes.  They definitely weren’t done at 8 mins.

Parenting Fail – Truck Edition

th (3)We’re sitting in the truck at the grocery store, waiting for hubby to come out. My daughter says, “Mom, the kids on the bus saw a bumper sticker that made them really laugh today, but I didn’t get it.”
So I of course asked what it said, first mistake.
“Ram the daughter, Dodge the father.” She innocently replies.
Panicking, my mind goes blank, I don’t know what to say. She’s watching me intently, waiting impatiently for my answer. The logical side of me kicks in.
“It’s a play on words referring to a truck. Dodge’s truck is called a Ram.” I quickly reply, pointing to a Dodge Ram parked across from us.
“I still don’t get it.” She says, looking even more confused.
“Well, you know our trucks are Ford F-150s.” I reply digging myself in even further. “Ford trucks go by F-150, F-250, F-350. Chevy’s are Silverados, they go by 1500, 2500, etc. Dodge calls their full sized trucks Ram, and the sizes are like Chevy, 1500, 2500, and so on.”
“I still don’t get it. What about the daughter and the father?”
I see Hubby coming towards the truck. I sigh in relief. “Ask your dad.”
Hubby climbs in the truck, and she instantly asks him. He laughs and looks at me. “What did you tell her?” He asks.
I shake my head, “I explained that it’s about a Dodge Ram truck.”
He rolls his eyes at me, and turns to her. “That’s it, it’s just talking about Ram trucks. Hey, I got us some ice cream and hot fudge for tonight. What movie do you want to watch when we get home?”
Her mind changes gear, you can actually see it. She’s mentally reviewing what movies she wants to see.
He looks at me and sticks his tongue out. Embarrassing moment over…  Why didn’t I think of distraction?
What would you have told your child?

I’m not your mother…

fde976fd0d5e753b689f62289cd649ceI love my hubby dearly, but he can sometimes be a bit thick-headed. He got a new job back in June, instead of an hourly rate they get paid by the job. The pay scale is hard to understand sometimes, even for me a veteran accountant. I get it, but I can’t seem to get him to understand it, so I try to explain it to him, and he gets confused. Then he starts asking the other guys, who get him even more confused.
This morning though he really caught me off guard when he actually asked ME to call the office and have the payroll clerk explain it to me. I sat and stared at the phone in horror for a while. Really, a grown forty-something man wanted his wife to call into work and have his paycheck explained to her, because he didn’t get it. The first thought that popped into my mind was that even my nineteen year old son wouldn’t ask mommy to call into work for him, for any reason beyond a serious injury or illness. But my husband acted like it was no big deal, like all wives do it.
I finally texted him back: No, I am not your mother, and I am not calling your employer to have them explain something to me that you don’t understand. It doesn’t look good for either of us. You just got a promotion, and are up for another one soon, do you really want to mess that up? I understand what’s going on just fine, I was trying to make sure that you did too. I will explain it to you tonight when you call.
But he couldn’t let it go until he had time to call me tonight. Instead he polled the other guys on his crew and each one had a different answer. Then he called the girls in the office, and each of them PR and HR gave him a different answer. After about a million texts, of him arguing with me, and reporting what the others had to say, I finally, got out the handbook, looked up the pay scales and sent him examples that he could understand. I should have just done it in the first place, instead of, you know, trying to get my own work done…
This is not the first time he has made me feel like his mother, instead of his wife. At least once a day he calls to ask me a question from his employee manual. I’ve actually read through it repeatedly, and no longer even have to look up most things. I don’t even work for the company. He refuses to pack the book in his luggage – because then it would be packed up in his bag in the back of the truck, and not available when he has questions – his reasoning, not mine. In his mind, it’s much easier to call me to ask a question, rather than searching for the answer himself. Now, if I’m not available, or if I can’t sufficiently answer his question (usually because I can’t understand what exactly he’s asking, after all I don’t work for the company) he calls the girls in either HR or PR, depending on the question. Then he calls me to have me, tells me what they said, and asks me to explain it to him better… It makes me want to tear my hair out!
I love him dearly, but he reminds me of Chrissy from Three’s Company… He gets stuck on one subject and can’t let it go until he understands it – but you can never get him to understand it. (“What color did you paint the inside of your mailbox?” Chrissy to Mr. Furley, about a bill for paint found in his mailbox.)
I didn’t get married, I just adopted a large man-child, that may never actually grow up…