It's been almost a year since I wrote my last post. Funny how life picks up in pace when your baby turns one; the year in between his last birthday and his coming one seems to have gone by in a blink. The kind of blink that felt agonizingly slow at times, but moved so very fast at the same moment. All of a sudden my baby is turning two in a few days. He has, in truth, not been my "baby" for a long time now. He's evolving and changing daily, growing more into a little boy with very decided opinions, and a wonderfully sweet streak of kindness.
This year I decided that I wanted to celebrate his birthday on a (much) smaller scale than we did last year. I thought it would be fun to make his birthday cake myself this year, too. (Last year I had a wonderful friend make a [stunning] cake for his first birthday.) I've done cake decorating in the past, but not for more than a year, and not for someone else's birthday. (Read: I've made cakes for my own birthday but it didn't matter as much what they looked like because they were for me.)
Needless to say my plan for his cake didn't go ... according to plan. At all. Raw fail, flop, mess, disaster, you name it, it happened. I got thinking as I was trying to fix my (one of many) errors. Why did it matter to me so much that his cake was perfect and looking awesome? Most of you know me pretty well, I would even say fairly well. You know I'm not one of those "Pinterest Moms" - I don't carefully stage my photos, my messy bun is actually messy, I often have kid goo on me, my makeup sure isn't perfect, and my version of trackpants are the trackpant kind.. loose. But for some reason this cake, his cake- it needed to be great. I was defeated, feeling like a failure, covered in food colouring and icing sugar and cake crumbs. My feet were aching and my head was aching, and as I was standing in my kitchen trying to painstakingly fix my glaring mistakes on this cake that I was sure was going to fall over- I realized something.
I was thinking that my value as a mom was in what I was going to accomplish in this cake. It would be perfect- people would see that it was perfect- and maybe that meant that I was doing well as a mother. But I forgot (just a few) things. I forgot that Noah would love me anyway. I forgot that he looks up to me and would see that I was so very very disappointed in myself. I forgot that that would maybe teach him to be disappointed in himself, and that he would learn that his worth is in what he does (not actually the truth!). I forgot that life is messy. That my life is messy- and it's okay that it is, because it's a journey. I forgot that my image of myself to others isn't actually important. I forgot that messing up a cake doesn't make me a bad mom.
Just like my having had to have a c section two years ago didn't make me a bad mom. It didn't mean that my body failed me. It didn't mean I was any less a mother than those who had birthed naturally, or those who had adopted. It didn't mean I was less. It's funny how things tie together in my head, sometimes. I've realized tonight that I'm still healing. Mentally, and emotionally. Parts of my heart are still raw. And, you know.. I think that's okay. I'm still on this journey.. this adventure called life. I'm still learning about myself and how I think and feel and react.
So.. to all you mamas out there who have tried and failed with your kids, again and again- to all you dads out there who are witnessing your partners go through it, or are single parenting and going through it yourself. To all of you, regardless of your relationship status, who feel like you have failed in some way and not measured up. Take a breath. Give yourself a hug. Remind yourself you're on a journey. And please... laugh with me over my silly cake.
P.S. the above photos are after idea #5 or 6... after my fondant burned (don't ask hahahaha), and I remade it, after my colours didn't turn out the way they were "supposed to"; after having to add supports so the whole thing didn't fall over, after my hands and clothes being covered in marshmallows and dye... there were a lot of mishaps. :) If it stays, there will be a number 2 on the top later. Oh. and I'm calling it a "geode cake" with a digger... because trends and because my boy loves "dan-oh"s. (diggers).
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