Posts Tagged ‘ fire ’

Can You Top This Birthday Cake Disaster?

Wednesday, December 12th, 2012

Cynthia Roelle, mom to a 2-year-old daughter and award-winning photographer, shares her own birthday cake disaster.

I don’t know about you but I laughed the entire way through Jill’s Birthday Cake Disaster. Not for reasons you might think. I wasn’t wondering why she thought she could pull it off when she nearly failed Home Economics (though I was wondering how in the world…I thought everyone got an A).

I wasn’t wondering why she thought flipping the layers would work, or why she didn’t just let Phil buy a cake (or why Phil thought Reddi-Whip was a good idea—it wasn’t). I wasn’t wondering why she didn’t give up, or even why she wanted to do it in the first place. I’m with you Jill, I get all that. I too want to bake my own cakes for my daughter’s birthdays. All two of them, to date.

Unfortunately, I hate to bake. It requires far too much precision for my taste. It’s tedious and time consuming and after I’ve used every last bowl, appliance, and utensil I own, my kitchen is a disaster. Plus, I don’t really like cake.

Notwithstanding, I set out to make a 3-layer cake for my daughter’s 2nd birthday. From scratch. I made the flowers and leaves from smashed gumdrops so it required absolutely no skill whatsoever in the decorating department, which was convenient because I have none.

I’m happy to report it turned out beautifully. If you will, please refer to the lovely photo above. I made that cake, all by myself. Please keep that in mind as you continue reading.

So the real reason I laughed my way through Jill’s Birthday Cake Disaster is because all I could think was that it could have been worse. Much, much worse.

After completing my daughter’s lovely cake, I found myself with a left-over layer. My sister’s birthday is only a few days before my daughter’s. We celebrated their birthdays the same weekend so I thought I would decorate the extra layer for my sister. After all, I didn’t want it to go to waste. But what to do with one measly layer?

My sister was turning 40, so I got this brilliant idea (the brilliance part is debatable) to chop the layer in half, smoosh the two half circles together and stand them on their sides to make a hill. Get it? Forty and over the hill?

Next, I slathered the entire blob in green icing. Only I couldn’t achieve grass green, just an unnatural mint green.

I then populated one slope of the hill with 39 candles. Using pipe cleaners, I fashioned arms and legs for each candle to make them look like little people running up the hill. The 40th candle, representing my sister, was positioned in front of the others, just over the crest of the hill. Lest the message not be crystal clear, I made a banner that said, “Happy 40th Birthday” on one side and “Over the Hill” on the other.

It wasn’t pretty, but it was pretty funny. At least I thought so.

It takes some time to light 40 candles, so my husband, my mom and I started lighting them as soon as my sister and her husband pulled into the driveway. It was instantly clear we would have only seconds to get the show on the road.

I don’t know if my sister and her husband took time for some backseat snooky, if they took a scenic detour from the driveway to the front door, or if they were abducted by aliens and taken aboard their spacecraft. All I know is that all the candles were lit and my sister was nowhere to be found.

I yelled for my husband to find my sister and get her inside. In the next instant all the pipe cleaner people were ablaze. Then the paper banner caught fire and it, too, went up in flames. We’re talking flames that were at least 2 feet high. Still no sister.

As I stood there watching the pyrotechnics, I vaguely wondered how long I could wait before getting the blaze under control. It wasn’t until the flames started lapping the balloons hovering above the cake that I really started getting worried. Holy s–t, is helium combustible? Visions of the Hindenburg flashed through my mind. Are those balloons going to explode and burn down the house? WHERE IN THE HELL IS MY SISTER?!

Just as I decided enough was enough, my sister materialized in the kitchen doorway. She didn’t appear surprised by our little party or the least bit alarmed to see 2-foot flames shooting from her cake. Instead, she had this look of disgust on her face that said: “WTF is that hideous blob? Oh Cindy, Martha would not approve.”

Turns out, that is EXACTLY what she was thinking. That and, why I would make her a flaming pile of crap when I made such a pretty cake for my daughter. I don’t know how she managed, but damn if she didn’t blow out the candles, too.

So Jill, all I can say is yay for your effort. You can water the lawn with Fia any old day, but she only turned three just that once. It looks to me like she had a grand time, so it wasn’t a complete disaster by any stretch. At least not on the order of this:

I feel compelled to add two things that my scientist husband pointed out. First, helium is not combustible and, second, the Hindenburg was actually filled with hydrogen which, unfortunately for the airship, is highly flammable.

If you have a birthday cake disaster that can top mine or Jill’s by all means, make us feel better and share it!

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New Year’s Resolution/Effigy for Sleep Deprivation

Thursday, January 5th, 2012

Burn Doll, Burn

No, it’s not voodoo. Nor am I a witch. It’s called an Effigy. We held it on New Year’s Eve. We had about 8 people over for dinner and a friend of ours had the idea.  She had us write down on a piece of paper what trait you want to get rid of and burn it in the fire. She gave specific instructions: We had to make a man-doll out of newspaper, which our talented animator friend Rich did. Then we put all our pieces of paper in his head (not Rich’s) and burned him (not Rich)–along with our badness.

New Year's Effigy

Now, there are a lot of traits I should get rid of. But not many that I want to get rid of. Like, I know I’m too obsessive about crumbs and cleaning. I know I have irrational fears. But I don’t really want to let go of those. At least not yet.

However, there is one trait that I do wish I was better at dealing with: lack of sleep. I just suck when I don’t have my 7-8 hours a night. And that’s what killed me when Fia was born. I was a mess. I felt like I was in Guantanamo Bay. There is reason they use sleep torture as a POW technique.

I never got angry with Fia during those first 3 months (which surprised me. I didn’t even get frustrated with her). However, there were many times I hated my husband, his family…even my friends. Everything felt like a burden. I just wasn’t myself. I cried a lot. I was an emotional wreck. However, having had plenty of experience with depression, I still don’t believe I had postpartum. I honestly think it came down to severe sleep deprivation (which is why I say sleep training saved my life).

I wish I were one of those people who could go on 5 hours and be fine. Just suck it up. But, for example, I am already calculating when I need to go to bed on January 24th for my January 25th C-Section. (We need to be at the hospital by 5:30 a.m. for 7:30 a.m. surgery.)

In college, I never pulled an all-nighter. I was better off not studying than staying up all hours. It’s how I’m wired. I’m one of those people who can fall asleep on a flight before the plane takes off and not wake until we’ve landed. Sans drugs. I know it’s a gift. But it can also be a curse.

I hope my little effigy/resolution takes the edge off a bit. I hope I can go with the flow a little more with our new guy. I do have experience now, and know that “this too shall pass.” That it does get better. But if  I don’t deal well, then you’ll see a lot of dark posts–or a bunch that don’t make sense. Or nothing at all. Because I’ll be in my own Guantanamo. Stay tuned.


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