Tuesday, January 22, 2013

CAKE: A Mommy Post

 Mommy: When Chloe turned one, I decided that I was going to be the cool Mom that made the cool cakes and that I was not going to buy cakes from the store.  I would meet every challenge.  I would be revered for my cakes.

I don't really bake that well.

But, what kind of a Mommy lets that stop her???  HUH??  I ASK YOU.

Yeah.  I need medication.

Anyway, on the one hand, I *hate* that I have started this expectation of myself.  Bakery cakes are YUMMY and professional looking and I.can.t.bake.

But, on the other, it's a fun game with Chloe at this point because the cake becomes the focal point of the party planning.  I don't spend crazy amounts on decor or party food.  If you come to one of our birthday parties, you get what you get and you don't get upset when it comes to the savory... I put all energy on the cake.

I thought that it would be all about cake pans.  Early efforts (Pooh, Elmo) were about the cake pans.  For Dora, I employed a little trick I learned at Pampered Chef parties.  But, then the Chloster started getting more and more difficult with her requests.  They do not make a Daisy Duck cake pan.  I think she was trying to test me.  But, I met that challenge: I free-handed that bitch, yo.

Amber wanted ducks, I made with a river.

And when Chloe said she wanted an Avengers party for her 4th birthday, I had a Capt. America shield all planned in my head.  I would do cupcakes on the side with little bought toppers and focus on my shield.  I would buy that new frosting powder stuff at the grocery store and EACH COLOR WOULD BE IT'S OWN FLAVOR.  I had a plan.

And then she announced that instead, she wanted a cheetah party.

Yeah.  They don't make that pan.

I was about to fold like a drunk on prom night and buy a cake, but then the internet came to my aid as it so often does.  Edible Cake Tattoos.   Never heard of 'em?  

That's cause you're not the Mistress of Birthday Cakes like I am.

Holla.

Yeah, yeah, there will be adorable pictures of the kids back tomorrow.  In the meantime, bow down before my fuckin' cake.


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