>As if my ego wasn’t already big enough from RUNNING A HALF MARATHON, I am still feeling quite smug from throwing Zoey a successful first birthday party. This is no joke people. Birthdays are hard work. If there was such a thing as a mom resume, successful birthdays would be HUGE. Markers of major achievement! Evidence of highly specialized skills! Proof of tremendous intellect! Especially when one’s husband cancels TWO cake orders and then decides to make the cake himself.
Now, I’ll spare you the suspense and tell you the cake turned out great. Wonderful even. But we had quite a few ‘discussions’ about it, if you know what I mean. I pretty much lost all the ‘discussions’. So much so, that I was dragged against my will to Bed Bath & Beyond three nights before the party to purchase “professional cake making supplies” (i.e.-frosting tubes and tips). In the car I was forced to listen to a one way conversation about “cake crumb strength” and “icing consistency”. In the store I had to put on my patient face while my dear husband read every box/book/pamphlet about cake decorating. And then I had to pretend to seriously debate the merits of the 3 cake decorating kits he was deciding between.
As a result of our ‘discussions’ it was decided that I would have nothing to do with the cakes or cake decorating. I have an extremely low frustration tolerance for all things culinary and we agreed that my special skills would best be used entertaining Zoey during all the cake madness. Except that, while my husband has numerous wonderful talents, time estimation is not one of them. When he tells me something will take X amount of time. I double it. And then add a bit more. So while Demetri estimated that he could bake 3 cakes, cool them, shape them, frost and decorate them in about 2 hours, I thought not.
In an effort to make up for some of my less that stellar moments during the Cake Discussions (“WHYCAN’TWEJUSTBUYTHESTUPIDCAKE?!?!?! DON’TYOULOVEYOURDAUGHTERENOUGHTOBUYHERACAKEONHERFIRSTBIRTHDAY?”). I offered to bake the 3 cakes during the day while Demetri was at work. With the help of the trusty red Betty Crocker box of course. I baked for 3 hours. That is a major record for me. At the time I thought, There should be a parade in my honor. I should be given a medal. My picture should be on the Wheaties box.
But then Demetri shaped, frosted (with frosting made from scratch), decorated, and in general did amazing things for 3 hours. THREE HOURS. He even made a little yellow duck with an orange beak out of frosting. OUT OF FROSTING PEOPLE! Really the parade should be for Demetri. And instead of just feeling smug about the successful party, I’m feeling pretty gosh darn smug that I have a kind, smart, creative and cake-decorator-GOD for a husband.