So I was going through pictures today and I realized that I really like making funny food. For special occasions I’ve been in the habit of challenging myself. Whether it’s making candy sushi, a robot out of cupcakes, a cake with skating rink or bikini cookies I always seem to make things more complicated for myself.
My husband’s last birthday was my crowning feat with the 6 hr Power-Up birthday cake.
What started out as a stress relieving project left my hands shaking, my eyes squinting and my heart palpitating. I felt like I needed a holiday after devoting all that time to something that was destroyed in less than a minute. I won’t deny I felt a little bit of glutinous pride upon it’s presentation, but thanks to the world wide web you don’t have to search far to find a nicer looking cake than mine.
I am definitely no Cake Boss.
Perhaps the reason I like to devote so much time to these projects is that I feel the need for external affirmation. I’d like to fancy myself a confident person, but when I really look at why I would spend 6 hours on a cake that I would never make if it was just my family, I have to wonder. To my credit, it’s not like I spent 6 hours on a birthday cake for myself, and the reality is that whether my intentions are noble or not I’m going to continue to make my funny food.
P.S. Never put icing on a hot cake.
Parenthood has changed me. When I first envisioned being a mom, I had this picture in my head of what I would be like and how I would parent. I would share my love for creating things with my children in a light filled studio while listing to Nine Inch Nails or Johnny Cash. I would have the patience of a Kindergarten teacher and my children and I would have an amazing relationship free from discipline. HA! I neglected to take into account that once my first son was born I would loose myself in a sea of anxiety, worried every night that someone was breaking into our house to kidnap my son. I neglected to take into account that I would be the mom of a child who less than perfect, or factor in that I was less than perfect.
In the beginning, I was naive and idealistic, but life happened and I changed.
When most people become parents there is a natural adjustment to taking care of a little life, and as they become more independent we continue to adjust. For every milestone we celebrate, we pack five more into our mental archives until ages one, two and three become distant memories. I have begun this blog to chart some of our family’s moments, excitements, discoveries, struggles, and milestones that I feel are worth sharing. So here is where I begin.