Getting my Christmas Cheer On

I have really enjoyed my time off work over Christmas. I’ve been busy promoting my new ebook, AMBER FROST, writing the sequel to it, and even finding some time to blog, read and take a few photo’s. We’ve visited friends, visited Santa, taken a family trip on the local “Christmas Train”, and even been to Church (for the first time in… umm… 7 years?).

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to spend lots of time with you families and friends. That is exactly what I did this year and I couldn’t have imagined a more special time – or more hilarious. Because that’s what happens when the crazy-people-who-I-call-family all gather together.

Oh, where to start?

This was my son’s second Christmas but it will probably be the first that he’ll really remember (we think but who really knows!). It was amazing how quickly he grasped the concept of opening presents – this is the same child who frequently walks around with a bucket on his head and eats sand while saying “yum-yum” - my special Little Man. He caught on to the idea of opening presents very fast, but he definitely did not “get” the idea of giving presents. When we tried to encourage him to hand out the presents that were from him (he loves to hand out pictures of himself, modest little man) he freaked. There was a lot of “noooooo!” and “miiiiiiine!” and trying to open other peoples’ presents and run away with them. He’s not even 2 yet so he deserves a little bit of a break. But still – it was a little embarrassing. He did remember to use his “peas” and “dank-doos” appropriately though, so there was that at least!

My son’s Grandparents all went a little overboard this year in the "giving" department. The Little Man is the only grandchild on the hubbie’s side of the family and the only one in the country on my side. Our little monster actually got so tired of opening gifts at my in-laws that he started to say “no-no” when offered a present and would run and hide. He just wanted to play with his new, toy car on the kitchen floor and chase the in-laws’ dog. At my folks’ place his favorite toys were a fly swatter he found out on the deck and a penguin magnet he stole off their fridge. Isn’t that always the way?

As for myself, I was quite spoiled too. I especially enjoyed the Amazon gift card from my folks so I could load-up my Kindle (check Goodreads to see what I’m reading now) and also the Paderno cookware set from my in-laws. I never thought I would hear myself squeal in delight over a set of shiny, new pots and pans. My eighteen year-old self was definitely rolling her eyes.

The best gift this Christmas though was the arrangement made between the hubbie and I, and his sister and brother (and their respective partners). Instead of each couple buying gifts for the others, we each took the money we would have spent and donated it to our local food banks. It was a great idea; kudos to my sister-in-law and her fiancé (still haven’t forgotten about the Giant Evil Bunny incident) for coming up with it. To be perfectly honest – it was fast, convenient, there was no wasteful spending and it felt SO good! The lady at the food bank was almost in tears when we dropped off our cheque. She thanked us profusely when really, all we were doing was dropping off a cheque – she was the one who was volunteering her time and effort! It still felt good.

The absolute best part of Christmas though was all the time spent with my loved ones; waking up Christmas morning, warm and happy in my husband’s arms, watching the joy on the Little Man’s face as he pulled a little train out of his stocking and starting yelling “CHOO-CHOO! Mumma! Dadda! CHOO-CHOO!” And all the good food and hugs and laughter – oh, it’s so corny but it’s true. It really is the most wonderful time of the year!

No matter where you were, what you were doing and how you did (or didn’t) celebrate the Holidays, I hope you had a perfect time.

Suzi

The Scariest Halloween Ever

It was Halloween morning and I was in my son’s room, changing his diaper. The Little Man was in a pleasant mood having had a good night’s sleep and a big breakfast. He was smiling, babbling, and being all kinds of cute, distracting me completely from everything else that was going on.

If I’d just been paying a little more attention, I might have thought longer about the fact that my sister-in-law had just pulled up outside our house and she had come from the wrong direction. When she came inside, I overheard Hubbie mention that he’d thought she’d said her fiancé (hahaha, I know how much she’ll hate me using that word) was coming too – but strangely, she had arrived alone.

I didn’t think about it though, I didn’t question what was going on. I was just happily doing my own thing, tickling my Little Man and making him laugh as I finished cleaning him up and redressing him. Sometimes I am so naïve and much too trusting.

My head was down as I walked out of his bedroom, dirty diaper in hand. My Hubbie (yes, he was involved by now in the conspiracy too) casually asked if I’d seen what was outside? He sounded so excited, I thought for sure I was about to see something pretty or funny or cool. I was sooooo wrong.

Peering through my living room window, its giant, distorted head just above the level of my couch, was an evil bunny. Have you seen the movie, Donnie Darko? Remember Frank the Bunny? Well, he was standing right outside my house, staring straight at me. You might be starting to make some connections here between this incident and the Evil Bunny statue (click here for a refresher) that my sister-in-law likes to move around the outside of my house and position so that he’s peering in my windows (yes, same sister-in-law). That Evil Bunny figurine is only about 9 inches tall though. What I was now looking at was a full-size, 7 foot, psychotic-looking bunny who had definitely caught me by surprise.

None of us were prepared for my reaction.

I screamed bloody-murder; the sound even scared me a little. I don’t remember doing this, but my traitor-of-a-husband and sadistic-sister-in-law assure me that I launched the dirty diaper in my hand into the air (narrowly missing my poor Little Man) and dove back into his bedroom like I was being shot at. I curled up into a ball on the ground beside the change-table and my whole body instantly started shaking. Even though I already realized that Frank the Bunny must really be my sister-in-law’s FIANCE in his Halloween costume and that this was all some kind of prank, I was still scared $hitless. I tried really hard to laugh but I was so scared I could hardly move or talk and tears were already uncontrollably sliding down my face.

My sister-in-law was horrified, I think they all were. It obviously wasn’t very funny. I have to admit though, it became funnier later once I saw the Frank the Bunny costume from a distance and was prepared for it. Watching my Hubbie organize a little photo shoot with Frank the Bunny peering through our windows and posing in our front yard even made me crack a smile too. I even laughed a bit when Hubbie described how he’d looked out the window when his sister first arrived and had seen Frank the Bunny walking slowly down the street towards our house along the neat sidewalk in a fairly quiet neighborhood at ten in the morning. I wonder what our neighbors think of us now?

Anyway, today was a Halloween I will NEVER forget. I guess the prank ended up working out because we’re all laughing about it now and not only did they manage to scare me but I got to scare all of them too!

Hope you all had a safe and happy Halloween!

Suzi

10 Things I Wouldn't do Again

I’ve been incredibly busy lately with work and getting ready for the launch of my Young Adult/Teen paranormal-romance novel, Amber Frost (available Dec. 7, 2010 through all major ebook sellers!). I apologize for the lack of recent posts. I’ve been thinking about writing a lot lately – it’s just finding the time that is the challenge. Anyway, at some point over the past week or so I realized I started creating a list in my head of Things I Wouldn’t do Again and I had to write it down. I decided to cut it off at 10 because… well, why not?

1. Setting-up Friends
Who doesn’t love the idea of taking credit for someone else’s successful relationship? On some small level, don’t we all want to be pimps? Or at least just wear a pimp hat? No? Just me? Anyway, setting-up your friends is a horrible idea because ultimately, most couples break up. And when they do you’ll have to take a side – it’s unavoidable. I thought I was a genius for setting up two of my friends in University. They were so obviously perfect for one another and dated quite happily for several months; I couldn’t have been more smug. Then the messy breakup happened and things got awkward fast. I lost my bragging rights and ended up losing one of my friends. I will never set-up friends again.

2. Work at a Fast-Food Chain
I got paid minimum wage to work the most stressful, unpleasant and demanding job I’ve ever had which (as a bonus) also happened to be accompanied with the least amount of respect. I had to deal with rude and obnoxious customers on a daily basis, an unintelligent manager on a power trip, and for the ultimate humiliation, I had to wear tapered pants made out of fire-resistant material. Never again.
By the way, I admire the people who can work in these stressful and fast-paced restaurants because I certainly wasn’t cut out for it! It really was the hardest job I’ve ever had and we should all respect the people who do it. I definitely do.

3. Go to Art School
Why not? Because I only met three cool people who I still talk to (in 4 yrs), I use my degree in Visual Arts for… well, just about nothing, I racked up a student loan in excess of $30,000 and I really didn’t become that much of a better artist – just more cynical. I wouldn’t go back and change it if I could though, I’m glad with how my life’s worked out. I just wouldn’t do it again!

4. Party too Hard
We all say “never again” the next morning but I’m hoping the last time I said that really was the truth. After completely avoiding alcohol while trying to conceive for a year, then being pregnant for nine months, then nursing my child for 14 months after that – I haven’t uttered this phrase in well over 3 years. To some the extent of your hangover the next day may be the main defining quality of how much fun you had the night before but Momma’s don’t have the option of staying in bed all day to nurse a hangover. My Little Alarm clock goes off somewhere between 5:30 and 6:30 am every morning – “mommmmmmm-mmmmaaaaa!” and I’d rather wake up ready to play than to puke.

5. Smoke
I just wanted to point out I quit about… 4 yrs ago now! Woo hoo!

6. Bake a Double Batch of Double-Chocolate Chip Cookies (when I know the only one who is going to eat them is me!)

7. Buy Halloween Candy Long Before Halloween (same reason as the cookies)

8. Give Birth
Just one of the many stupid things I have done and will do for my child. Ok, it wasn’t stupid and it really wasn’t that bad but I would LOVE not to have to do this again. And even as I say it, I know eventually, I probably will. I really am stupid.

9. Shop with the Hubbie
Sometimes I get these images in my mind and I become so obsessed with the perfection of these little imaginary scenes that I convince myself reality will be just as magical. It isn’t. Shopping with the Hubbie is not a fun, relaxed, bonding experience – it is excruciatingly painful for both of us. The main issue is that Hubbie does not (like many other men) understand the concept of “browsing”.
Hubbie – “What are you looking for?”
Me – “I don’t know.”
Hubbie – “Why are we in here then?”
Me – “In case I see something.”
Hubbie – “Like what?”
Me – *irritated* “I don’t know yet.”
Hubbie – *just as irritated* “I’m waiting outside.”
Hubbie approaches shopping like a military operation. There are ETA’s and EDT’s and specific mission objectives. There are meeting points and hydration breaks but no other unscheduled stops and absolutely no “browsing”. There is also no slow-paced strolling or hand-holding though sometimes I can slip my hand into his before he notices. Naturally when this happens, I make fun of how lame he is for walking around a mall on a Sunday afternoon, holding hands with his wife! This is our relationship in a nutshell. (Hubbie is objecting that he is not the shopping-Nazi that I’m making him out to be. In his defense, he tries his best to grin and bear it and still takes me shopping every year for my birthday – I’m really a very lucky gal.)

10. Have my Hair Cut into a Mullet
I was nine, my Mom convinced me it would be a good look for me. A nice short, easy-style for a nine year old to take care of while still long enough in the back that it would look feminine. Momma lied. Until the mullet grew out, my older sister was able to convince people I was her younger brother, Steve. I’m not entirely convinced that Mullets are for anyone, but they are definitely not for girls.

Suzi

The Craziest Thing

I can pinpoint the moment I decided I wanted to write a book. It was almost two years ago now, I was sitting on the couch in my living room and had just finished reading a really crappy novel that, for reasons I couldn’t (and still can’t) comprehend, had sold hundreds of thousands of copies.

“What a piece of crap!” I announced to my husband as I finished the last page. He patiently tore his eyes away from the Canucks game on TV with only a slight sigh (this, my friends, is true love) and he settled in to listen to the obvious rant I was about to embark on.

I have always been a passionate and over-enthusiastic reader, and I feel personally offended when books don’t live up to my expectations. Hubbie was aware of this – he knew what was coming but still listened attentively.

“Seriously, how did this get published? Who reads this stuff?” I demanded.

Hubbie raised an eyebrow but was wise enough not to comment. After seven years together, he’d learned that if he wanted to get back to the hockey game before the next power play, it would be best to keep quiet, nod in agreement and only let his eyes stray back to the TV when I wasn’t looking.

“I mean, even I could do better. I could write a book way better than this!” I declared, tossing said-book onto the glass coffee table and missing. I glared at the book as it was obviously such a piece of junk that it wouldn’t even make a good projectile (this, of course, had nothing to do with my lack or coordination or athletic ability).

And what does my other and at times (ok, a lot of the time) better-half say?

“Then do it.”

His eyes went back to the TV but I didn’t object because I knew he was right – I should do it. Hubbie had no idea what he’d started.

Why not? I thought. I loved reading, I loved writing. I used to begin writing novels all the time when I was a teenager but back then I didn’t have the focus or the drive to get past the first fifty pages (I was too busy smoking cigarettes and falling in love). I’d written many a lengthy, University paper since then; my vocabulary, life experience and confidence had all improved since those confused teenaged days… so why not?

And so I began to write.

A year and a bit later I have completed two, full length novels (currently I’m nearing completion of my third and have a killer idea for my fourth). The first book never really took off – it was my first attempt at writing a novel and it was written largely for my own enjoyment; I never really expected that one to get published. But the second… this one I’d invested a lot more time and emotion into. This one I had hopes for but after the first few rejection letters came in (positive but still “no’s” – remember the “shit sandwich”? LINK) my optimism began to fade.

I still loved writing but I was starting to realize there was something missing from the experience for me. What was it? What do you call that thing….? Oh right – an audience. No one was reading my work except for me and though I was thoroughly enjoying writing and was frequently impressed by my own brilliance (I know, I’m ridiculously egotistical in the privacy of my own home) – it wasn’t enough. And that’s when this blog was born.

Anyone remember my first post, Exposing Myself (LINK)?. I was so nervous to share my writing with anyone, even the limited audience I imagined that might view my blog. I did it though and I’m so glad I did. Now I barely think twice before hitting the “PUBLISH” button, even knowing that somewhere around 100 people (and counting!) are now viewing my blog every week. To you blog veterans, these numbers might not seem so impressive but to me it’s HUGE. It still blows my mind that people are interested in and entertained by what I have to say. The people I’ve met through my blog, the contacts and connections I’ve made and the recognition I’m starting to gain are priceless.

And now the craziest thing has happened – I’m getting published!

The second novel I wrote (which is currently titled “Amber Frost” but fondly referred to as “Book #2” in my house) will be made available to the ebook world through ireadiwrite Publishing (LINK) some time later this year. I hope you’ll understand what a huge understatement it is to say that I’m a little bit excited and kinda proud. Just a little bit.

I’ll be keeping you all updated as things move along but for now I’d just to say a quick thanks to all the wonderful people who read my blog each week, to my amazing family and friends who inspire me, and to my incredible husband who may at times be a “man of few words” but when he does speak, you’d be stupid not to listen. Thanks for letting me interrupt your hockey games honey, and sorry for all the nights I’ve made you watch “Glee” and “Gossip Girl” (no apologies for “Dating in the Dark” – you know you love that crap as much as I do).

Thanks everyone! Your support means the world to me.

And on that note… GO CANUCKS!


Suzi

Sometimes I Wonder About Myself

Did my mother make as many mistakes as I did and do? Do my friends? Do people just not want to talk about the stupid and embarrassing things they have done? I guess we’re all afraid of looking dumb or irresponsible but we all make mistakes sometimes, don’t we?

Over the past year and a bit, I have come to realize that parenting, like so many other things, is a trial and error process that you won’t necessarily get right the first time. I’m starting to wonder now about the “eldest children” out there that I know, aka. the parenting guinea pigs. Forget 'middle-child syndrome'!

But seriously, I think I am doing a pretty good job raising my Little Man but like I said, it’s harder than it looks. And though I’d like to blame lack of sleep and changing hormones and all those fabulous excuses, my child sleeps through the night and is nearly 1 ½ so I’ve got nothing. Guess I’ll just have to admit that sometimes, I’m just not that perfect - sometimes.

Here are just some of the things that make me question my ability to ‘parent’:

I have literally spoken the phrase: “No, this is Mummy’s chocolate and I don’t have to share.” I have also tried to sneak chocolate past the Little Man . You don’t even have to say it – I know.

Similarly, I have seriously considered raising my child to believe that he is allergic to chocolate. I’d love to say this would be for his benefit but really…

When I have run out of things to entertain my son (if we’re stuck waiting somewhere) I have let him play with such non-Daddy-approved “toys” from my purse as lip gloss, tampons and make up.

Instead of nursery rhymes, since my son was a newborn I have been singing songs like “All the Single Babies” (Beyonce), “Shake, Shake, Shake – Don’t Shake the Baby” (Shake Your Booty) and “Push it” (Salt n’ Peppa – usually when he’s pooping).

I laugh when my son farts. I know this only encourages him but he looks so surprised and then cheeky… how do you not laugh?

Whenever the Little Man sees an empty beer can he runs to pick it up. He will either pretend to drink from it and then go “ahhhh” or he will take it straight to his Daddy. We have no idea where he picked up these habits.

I may have once forgotten to properly close the backdoor to my car after buckling my son in. I was pulling out of my spot in the Walmart parking lot and the door flew open – the Little Man laughed and started waving at the shocked people he could now clearly see. I stopped and closed the door. It may have actually happened twice.

Whenever the Little Man hears a loud truck, he points and yells, “Daddy!” When we’re in a parking lot, I find myself repeating over and over, “No, that’s not your Daddy. No, he’s not your Daddy either. Nope, not baby’s Daddy, try again.” I love it when the guys driving the big trucks have their windows down though and hear him. That “deer-in-headlights” look is priceless. It’s even funnier if there’s a girl sitting next to them. The Little Man will usually smile and wave like he really does recognize them too.

It’s bad enough that the Little Man already recognizes a Tim Horton’s (the source of the occasional cookie ) and claps his hands and points from the backseat of a car going 90 km/hr, but it’s even worse that the girls in the Tim Horton’s drive thru by my house know not just me but also my son by name!

I bought the Little Man his own little baseball bat. I don’t know what I was thinking with that one. Our cat still hasn’t forgiven me.

And finally, I’m wondering whether I really should be saying things to my son like:

- “No, we don’t hit Daddy. Only Mummy can do that.”

- “Get the cat!”
(He runs after it screaming. It’s pretty funny until he does it to other people’s cats.)

- Daddy – “What does Mummy say?”, Little Man – “Mooo!”
(My husband thought that was a pretty clever thing to teach him.)

- “Ouch! Mother Ducker!”
(If he repeats that one at daycare, I think I’m still going to look pretty bad.)

- “Look – there goes Big Fat Baby!”
(Baby who lives down the street whose name I always forget. This has the potential to be quite embarrassing once the Little Man can talk more.)

- “Pick it up quickly, it’s still good. Five second rule… Ten second rule… Thirty second rule… Here, let me get that for you.”

- “Baby, be careful! Don’t go near the Evil Bunny!”
(My sister-in-law bought me this as a joke. I suppose I shouldn’t perpetuate the idea that the bunny is “evil”. I’ll include a picture so then you’ll have a better idea of what I’m talking about. Actually, in this case, it might be an example of good parenting – you decide!)


Suzi

The Best Intentions

I have a few friends right now who are pregnant - including my sister (love you!).  It's been nearly a year and a half since my days of waddling around town and rubbing my budda belly, and though I still don't really miss it, I have been somewhat fondly reminscing about my pregnancy lately.

I didn't really enjoy being pregnant; it was ok but not the lovey-dovey, cherished time in my life that I was told it was supposed to be.  I didn't feel like a "sacred vessel of life".  I felt like a bloated whale who was always hot, hungry, thirsty and tired (sounds attractive, right?).  My darling baby was a wiggler right from the start and he loved to wedge his little, pokey feet in underneath my ribs and push... (shudder) my ribs creak at the memory.  Don't get me wrong - there were good parts too and I suppose a small part of me may one day miss being pregnant... a little.  The hardest part for me though was all the unwanted attention that went along with it.

Pregnancy, for me, was a personal, private and emotional experience.  But I suppose since it's such an obvious, public condition everyone else feels like they are involved in your pregnancy too.  I hated how people would always look at my ever-expanding waist line before they looked at my face.  I felt violated whenever someone would (without asking permission) start rubbing my belly (something that you would never dare do to anyone else).  I detested being asked the same questions over and over again, usually by people I didn't even know - "how far along are you?" or "do you know what you're having?" and "when's your due date?"  And it annoyed me how people expected me to share every personal and intimate detail of my pregnancy when I so obviously did not want to.  I'm just not the kinda girl who can have a conversation about her cervix, especially at a work function.

Being pregnant is a bizarre and often hilarious time though.  I thought I'd share with you some of the random things people asked me and the questionable (not to mention unsolicited) advice I was given while pregnant. 

People REALLY said these things to me, though some may be hard to believe!  Sorry if you recognize a statement here as one you may have made.  Please note that I love my family and friends and know that all advice was given in love and all comments were made with the best of intentions at heart.  That being said... what were you thinking?
ENJOY!


- "You're glowing!" 
This one I heard a lot and always new it was complete BS.  Pregnant women don't glow, they sweat.)

- "I bet your husband likes how 'well-endowed' you've become."
This one was said to me at the work place (did I mention I worked in an Elementary school at the time? A little inappropriate, non?)

- "Is your Doctor worried about how small you are?"
I think maybe there's a compliment hidden in that one... maybe? A note to the wise - never comment on a pregnant woman's size or shape in any way other than to tell her that she's "all baby" (I couldn't hear that one enough!).

- "Has your Doctor said anything about how much weight you've gained?"

- "You look great... for being pregnant."
In my opinion, qualifiers negate the compliment.

- "You're huge!" And also, "Look how big and fat you're getting!"
To which I pointed out, 'I'm not huge or fat - I'm pregnant! There's a BIG difference - it's called a baby!'

- "You're so lucky - you're not even that bloated."

- "You can't be seven months pregnant! Are you sure you've got your dates right?"
No, you're right.  Myself, my healthcare providers, the 3 ultrasounds I've had - we're all wrong. This question was followed up by the ever-appropriate:

- "Do you know which night you conceived?"
And I was similarly asked...

- "Did you know the moment you got pregnant? Was it a special night? When was it?"
These very personal questions were asked by two separate people, one at a family function and another at a child's birthday party.  Both people had very loud voices.  You can cringe for me if you like.

- "Babies are a lot more work than puppies!"
An old woman told me this when I commented that her puppy was cute... She was one of the few people who found me, in all my pregnant glory, offensive.  I turned 26 while I was pregnant but was often told I looked a few years younger.  A few seniors shot me some scandalized glances - it was sorta fun. What was also fun was when people asked...

- "How far along are you?"
The only reply to that was, 'Far along with what? Oh... did you think...?' and then watch them try to backpedal.  This is especially fun when you are in your ninth month of pregnancy.  It really confuses people.

- "Childbirth is the most painful thing you've ever experienced."
Really... why tell a pregnant woman that?

- "You'll be cursing your husband's name once you're in labor!"
I didn't.  I cursed the name of that lady who wrote the Hypnobirthing (painfree labor) book - for selling me a lie that I wanted so badly to believe!

- "Are you scared about giving birth?"
Does it matter? It's obviously too late for second thoughts.

- "When your water breaks, you'll be overwhelmed by a peaceful wave of tranquility. Your body's biologically programmed that way."
When my water broke, I was in the "Transition Phase" - aka. most intense part. It was not peaceful. And finally...

- "Does it bother you that your baby looks nothing like you?
No, I'm ok with it. I remember quite clearly how he was born and am pretty sure he's mine regardless. It would bother me if he didn't look like my husband. That would be awkward.


And then the old-wives tales that people insisted were true.  None of these were:


"Your cat will try and smother your baby."
Which was not quite as silly as...

"Your cat will be jealous of the baby because he'll be able to smell your milk and not want the baby to drink it." (A mother of 3 told me that one but I'm pretty sure she was stoned.)

"Because you don't have heartburn, your baby will be bald." (He was born with a full head of hair.)

"Because your baby moves a lot, it will be a girl."

"You'll go at least a week past your due date because it's your first baby." (He was born a day early.)

"Spicy food will make you go into early labor." (We eat a lot of Indian food, I was fine.)
"You're belly is too oval-shaped so you're going to have a girl."  (Definitely not a girl.)

"They'll give you an enema as soon as you get to the hospital." (I assure you, they certainly did not.)

"Episiotomies are routine." (Don't know what that is? Look it up - you'll be scared.)
 
And despite all this helpful advice, I made it through my pregnancy and labor experience ok, and I may even, possibly, do it all over again one day.  Maybe.

I'll end this post with a pic of me when I was 34 wks pregnant:

 
 
Suzi

The Cake that Everyone Ate but No One Ever Saw

My son recently turned one and for some inexplicable reason, I decided that I was going to bake and decorate his first birthday cake. I guess I forgot that I am not actually a baker and that maybe, just maybe, preparing a birthday cake might be harder than it looks. But I had this image of myself stuck in my mind, proudly carrying out a beautiful, delicious cake that everyone would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over - and I was addicted to the idea.

Let me describe my son’s birthday cake to you. Picture a two layer, light and fluffy, organic, vanilla-banana cake that is in the shape of a dump truck. Between the two layers is a thin, sweet layer of pureed, fresh, organic blueberries. The whole cake is iced with smooth, creamy, vanilla, butter-cream frosting. The wheels of the dump truck are slices of orange and the design of the dump truck is neatly outlined in blueberries. It looks perfect. It tastes even better than it looks.

This is the cake that I imagined. Unfortunately, this is not the cake that I made.

The day before my son’s birthday I baked two beautiful, golden brown, organic, vanilla-banana cakes that were shaped like dump trucks. I wish I took pictures of them because they were gorgeous. I was so confident that the dream cake was about to become a reality. Apparently I lie to myself very well.

On the day of my son’s birthday, I waited until he was down for his nap before I began assembling the cake. Things went downhill fast.

First I put too much blueberry puree on the first layer, so it oozed down the sides in a sticky, unappetizing mess. Then I went to put the second layer on top and realized I’d put the puree on the wrong side of the bottom layer. In order to see the dump truck design on the cake, I had to put the top layer on the wrong way but then the edges of the two layers didn’t line up. Then I went to take the icing out the fridge (I had so cleverly made it up an hour before hand) and realized it had started to harden and was a chunky, unspreadable mess. I tried to spread it anyway. I was in total and complete denial.

After I finished smearing on the icing, I took a step back to examine my handiwork. I took a moment to debate whether to laugh or cry. Images of myself throwing the whole thing in the garbage can ran through my mind. I wondered if I bought a cake from the grocery store, if I could get away with taking credit for it? Then I remembered what an awful liar I am (except, of course, to myself). Next came the images of my family and in-laws holding back their laughter while I shame-facedly carried out the monstrous birthday cake. Nope, there was no way I could do that either.

So what did I decide to do? I couldn’t quite suck up my pride enough to laugh at myself, and I was too stubborn to give up and cry. So I cut that mother up.

The carefully sliced and served pieces actually looked pretty tasty sitting on the blue ‘1st Birthday’ paper plates I’d purchased. My fridge was filled with 14 pre-cut pieces of cake, all ready to be served and covered carefully with saran wrap.

I did have the sense of mind though to realize that there was a small chance, I might think this was funny later. I was home alone at the time and therefore had no one to bare witness to my shame. My pride is small and flexible enough though that I was able to pull out my camera and take a couple quick shots of the first birthday cake I’d ever baked and iced all by myself. At the time I swore to myself that no one was ever going to see those photos. But let’s face it - it’s pretty funny.

And so I present to you, the cake that no one saw.