I've gotten into the habit of baking my own birthday cake. It may make me a control freak, but I've found that that's the best way to ensure I get what I want, which this year was a rich, chocolatey, gooey dessert capable of being warmed and served with ice cream. So I made brownies with chocolate ganache.
I got into this habit when it became clear that, unless given a very compelling reason not to do so, my mom will visit every single year. And every single year, she will make me a birthday cake that she says is my favorite but is generally something she's been hankering for for a while. It doesn't bother me - it's one of her quirks. Kind of like ignoring what I say and pretending I didn't tell her that I'd already ordered a blue cake for my son and instead going out to buy cupcakes with blue icing like she did today. Oh, well. The more blue icing the better, I guess. Some of the cake or cup cakes can be shared with pre-school when the baby is born.
Though I guess the birth of this baby means that I will never, ever have another mom-free birthday again unless I leave the country. Ah, well. That can be arranged.
I've been complaining too much about my mom lately. I'm glad she's here. She's been picking Ragsy up from pre-school every evening and generally handling dinners, which I certainly can't complain about. And unlike my husband, she also cleans. It's a huge load off my shoulders and I know that, once the baby comes, I'll appreciate it even more. So, when I complain about things like cakes and table manners (she keeps demanding my son get his elbows off the table and wait to start his meal until others are served - given that he's 3, he's not too keen on waiting) I'll have to at least temper it if not shut up entirely since she's helping incredibly.
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