Monday, July 18, 2016

Birthday cake blues

So I am sitting in my car right now, feeling like a failure. A slightly poorer failure, because I just paid $31.99 for an ice cream cake for Baby Macaroni's 2nd birthday. (And yes, after her birthday I will drop the Baby and just call her Macaroni for the purposes of this blog.)

I have spent all weekend agonizing over whether or not to make her a birthday cake. I have spent more time thinking about that than anything else. Should I make the cake? Do I have time to make the cake? Can I make a Sesame Street themed birthday cake? Is there time to get to Scoop & Save before my husband has to leave for softball? Should I bail on my running group to watch a tutorial on icing? What if I make an ice cream cake, like the one I saw on Facebook? If the cake isn't Sesame Street themed, is the party still a Sesame Street party. If? What? Why? How.

Seriously.

My husband so kindly reminded me of the horror that was our kitchen last year with t-minus 1 hour until her first birthday party. The icing I made the night before was still rock hard from the fridge, then the piping bag broke, then I started yelling. Pretty sure I cried. Really sure I said never again, and that next year I would buy a cake.

And here we are.

But everyone around me, related to me, friends on Facebook, strangers on Pinterest, seem to be making their kids cakes. So if they can do it, I should be able to right? I can bake. I love to bake. Tonight The Babe and I made the cupcakes for the daycare birthday party, which in case you are taking notes, comes before the family birthday dinner and way before the family birthday party. Thank goodness we're not at friend birthday party age yet, because you might have to pull me out of a dark corner somewhere.

I never thought I would be the type of person who measures her parenting against other people's. I pride myself on doing what is right for us, and who gives a rats ass what everyone else is doing. When everyone else was buying dolls for their kids, we bought The Babe a toy workbench. But I made the cupcakes at that party. Why is this cake tearing me up? What about that tradition has got me so mixed up inside?

I'd love to make this a longer post, but truth be told I'm in the thick of it right now. And my husband's Blizzard is beginning to melt :p



~ H