The Disaster Cake

There was a moment today when I was standing in my kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes, half made appetizers, covered in flour and powdered sugar, tears streaming down my face.  This was the moment my husband walked in and said “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

I have a tendency to throw huge parties, cook everything, and not ask for any help.  Today was Nick’s birthday and, true to form, I was going crazy but insisting it was all under control.  The breaking point occurred while I was trying to frost a cake for Christian’s birthday party (which I’m crazy enough to hold the day after Nick’s party) while at the same time making three different appetizers.  The cake started to crumble and before I knew it, it was a complete disaster.  I couldn’t control the sob that bubbled up and I fell apart.

After pulling myself back together I put the cake in the fridge and told myself to deal with it tomorrow.  As usual, I pulled it off and as everyone arrived the food was on the table, the house (not including the kitchen) was clean, and I was tear free.  We had a great party, filled with kids laughing, friends visiting, and plenty of stories told. 

At the end of the evening we were standing outside in a light drizzling rain around the campfire, only the die hard party-goers still remaining.  Kids were sleeping in various beds and on couches.  I looked around in the firelight, filled with good food, a little wine, and the comfort of friends, old and new.  The disaster cake still waited for me in the fridge  but I knew that somehow I would make it work.  For all my flour covered craziness earlier, I had managed to end my night with the beautiful sound of friends voices drifting up with the campfire smoke.