Cake

Today is my birthday, and I'm having a much better one than last year! I started out my day by putting Beatles Rock Band on at full-blast and treating my family to a noisy 7:30 AM performance of "Birthday". Then I splashed a little Irish cream in my coffee, pigged-out on a sugary, fatty breakfast and opened my presents (presented to me still in the mailing package they arrived in, and with a festive "I didn't wrap anything, or take the tags off." Aren't men great?!). It seems that the way you start your day is the key.

Last year, I woke up to a day that was grey and miserable and raining. I'd had to make my own cake because the Captain had been away all week and I'd just plopped it on the kitchen counter to decorate it, when my sister called to wish me a Happy Birthday. I wandered away.

When I came back to the kitchen no more than ten minutes later, the Captain was where I'd left him, drinking coffee and surfing the net in the dining room. Firstborn was still sitting at the table reading, and Rosemary's Baby was still standing in the middle of the kitchen. But something was different. He was covered in crumbs.

I turned, filled with dread, to see what he'd done to my carrot cake. It was still on the counter. It still looked, for all intents and purposes, like a rectangular sheet cake. But the centre was pitted with half a dozen little fist-sized holes. Rosemary's Baby had clearly enjoyed a good portion of my now-ruined birthday cake before it had even been iced. And at this point, I burst into tears.

I should say now that it was just starting to dawn on me this time last year that Rosemary's Baby was autistic, so I was already kind of going through a period of grief, and having him wreck my cake magnified things a little. For the rest of the day, I walked around growling at everyone and wishing the whole day would just end.

Even when you get to an age where you know it's just another day, it's kind of disappointing to have a crappy birthday. So this year, I went in with the intention of taking control of what kind of day I had. In addition to making sure my day started out just right, I originally intended to order myself some cupcakes (I pledge to never again make my own birthday cake) but the Captain was around this year, and wanted to mess around in the kitchen. So, with the help of Firstborn and Betty Crocker, after lunch today, he presented me with this delicious fire hazard:

Yes, there are 37 candles. I'm guessing he wanted to take a subtle dig at me like I did him a couple of weeks ago on his birthday. Here's the cake I made for him:

"What? I just thought you liked Oscar!"

Today, I've taken some time for myself, laughed at my kids, talked on the phone, enjoyed the weather, and eaten enough sugar to put myself in a diabetic coma. I'd call that a good birthday!

Happy Sunday!