A Note on Memories: Birthday Cakes Made by Mom
There is nothing more perfect than a mother that spends hours crafting a magical birthday with every cent and ounce of time she can spare.
It was huge, taller than me! There were towers! A castle door made of chocolate. I could have crawled inside and lived there if I needed to.
That is how I described my 5th birthday cake to others for years. My childhood imagination had always ran wild and I’ve always had a flare for dramatics, but one would think this cake must have been pretty spectacular.
I remember my mom making it; crafting the layers of my chocolate box made cake, referencing a picture she saw in some magazine, icing cones to appear like castle towers.
I was enthralled by everything pink and princess, you would have thought I was born in glitter. I’d carry a purse full of only chapstick and pretend it was lipstick.
Home videos show me excitedly standing on a chair pulled up to the table singing “bibbity-bobbity-boop” with my wand in my hand, smiling and waving at everyone who came to celebrate me.
Surrounded by parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, Koko (the dog), and siblings in our little home on 25th street.
Off-brand ice cream and dollar store pop, the only thing on brand was my insistence to model every outfit I was gifted for my audience.
Before life riddled me with anxiety and depression and some other trauma you’ve probably read about against your will on here, I would perform any number of song and dance for anyone that would listen. I would jump and sing and climb and you would have thought that this was the best thing to ever happen to me: turning 5 and having a princess cake.
So when I stumbled upon the video footage of this birthday, I audibly laughed when I saw the cake. Up until this point, I thought it really was this giant castle cake that stood bigger than me. My childhood memories mixed with childhood imagination left me with no attempt to filter out the logistics of a cake actually being taller than me.
That is when it hit me: I have this happy childhood memory of a perfect cake because it was perfect.
It was made by mom, sang to with love, and ate by everyone.
There is nothing more perfect than a mother that spends hours crafting a magical birthday with every cent and ounce of time she can spare. It did not matter that we weren’t filthy rich or that I wore the same dress on my birthday and Easter, I was having the best day ever.
Today I turn 29 and I still crave a cake made by my mom.
I won't get it unless I find a way to hop on a plane and fly to her and bring her all the ingredients she needs because she now has the awful burden of battling Multiple Sclerosis. Walking from the living room to the kitchen is it's own chore and we all take that for granted every day.
Two years ago I did fly to visit with a subconscious quest for homemade "mom cake." It was for her birthday and we sent dad out to the store for the ingredients and then worked on a homemade ice cream cake.
It was for her but secretly, it was more for me.
So, because it’s my birthday, I ask that you spend the day recalling a childhood memory that was by your definition perfect, and figure out what made it so great. Was it your imagination? Was it exactly as you remembered? Or was it the lasting impression of feeling happy in that moment?
-Liz