It isn't like I didn't make a cake for Maddie's birthday. It's just that her birthday was on the first day of Joy School. And I taught. And it was a lot of work to get all the supplies ready for the lesson that day and get the entire year organized. And I was still figuring out how to juggle kindergarten bus stop pickups and infant nap time. I made the cake. The day before her birthday in fact. I just didn't get it frosted. Or decorated. I suppose my desire to be a cake decorator has lead to high expectations of myself. I wanted to try a new medium. Fondant. She wanted a princess castle. Perfect match. Maddie's low expectations - Simple design - My zero skills with fondant.
Turns out the box of fondant scared me. It looked at me and stared at me and glared at me and taunted me to open it up and try it. I was scared. I was weak. I didn't open it. In fact it's still sitting on the counter today all the way on November 2. Long past the day I had to throw out the original birthday cake because it was covered in mold in the giant cake Tupperware that had to be decontaminated for bio hazard reasons. Long past the time I made a second cake, frosted it in plain white and shook a plastic container of colored sugar sprinkles across the top and drew a little "3" with black icing. She had been asking me and mentioned twice to other people that she didn't get a cake for her birthday. Yeah, she's old enough I can't fudge stuff anymore. 
Five weeks later, she asked at a time I didn't have anything completely pressing that needed attention or the world would end. When she asked me point blank why she didn't get a cake for the third time I dropped everything and said, "Let's make your birthday cake together right now!" The smile stretched from ear to ear and maybe even a little farther. She didn't care that it wasn't her birthday. She didn't care that I was no longer under the delusion of making a gorgeous princess castle sculpted with fondant. She just knew that I loved her enough to make her a cake. She lasted all of thirty seconds in her helping, but we had cake that night. She felt like a million bucks.
Just to set the record straight before I start getting hate mail, we did celebrate her birthday on her birthday. We had a party at preschool that day when I taught. I made cup cakes to her exacting demands on decorations. We sang. She blew out candles and had fun together with 15 people in the house. Brian came home from work early so I we could go to Chuck E. Cheese and live it up. She had a blast and by the time we got back to the house it was all I could do to crawl into bed with the flu. You know you feel bad when you are standing at Chuck E. Cheese and want to lay down on the greasy bench or the filthy carpet if need be and sleep as tears start to slip down your face from the body aches. We went home, opened presents and Brian basically put the kids to bed alone. I couldn't have eaten cake that day anyway. So we did celebrate. I gave it all I had. In the end, she just really, really needed a cake. And a cake she got...five weeks late.
This is one of her favorite presents. She was elated to dress up the next day as Cinderella.
2 comments:
Saying yes in the moment she asked, making that cake together, was probably a better gift than having it on her actual birthday. You're amazing! Thanks for reminding me to stop and say yes more often.
Way to go, Ang! Isn't it funny how the things that matter most to our kids (especially when they are so small) isn't what we buy them, but what we DO with them? I know it will shock you to hear that my Ben really just wants me to push him on the swing. That's it.
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