So today is Spawn’s birthday. Usually, I have spent at least two months planning exactly what I will surprise them with and have it routed to work, wrapped it in secret, have it out in the morning. Something big and hearty for breakfast, sing a really loud rendition of the birthday song and they pick out where they want to eat after work/school for dinner. Past birthdays have been trips to the beach, or class party, or both. Of course, the cake too would already be ordered and on the way or present and accounted for. Sometimes, I have just sent it to school with them.
The lady who we love and did our cakes last year is currently very pregnant and nearly due… so no kitsune cake for Spawn this year. Last year was a creepy dead girl and her cat… don’t ask, Spawn likes macabre comics and I finally found someone who loves creating new things on a cake without costing a fortune.
The last two months my car and my mechanic have made life hell, I have thought of nothing else. I took Spawn to a concert as part of their birthday, but they will forever remember it as the time they had to spend the night in a gas station in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
There isn’t a present. Spawn has been giving me no clues and… I’ve been distracted. Life has been a raging bitch that will not be ignored. Not that it isn’t usually, but I really fucked up this year.
I sang Happy Birthday this morning. It scared the cat. It took Spawn fifteen minutes to coax them out of hiding.
The kitchen is a wreck and we woke up late, so no awesome breakfast.
Of all the places to have a birthday dinner… they had the option to choose anything, birthdays are week long celebrations in our house. Spawn chose a deli.
That’s right, cold cuts.
A birthday dinner…. of cold cuts.
Not that I’m complaining, its a place we both like, but I think if I’d been Spawn I might have opted to go anyplace that used edible gold to line the burger patties just so I could shit the $600.00 my parentals would have had to spend as revenge for fucking up the birthday ritual so bad.
My guilt alone brought us to the nearest Baskin-Robbins. Spawn has never had nor asked for an ice cream cake but I was hell-bent on them having cake ON their birthday at least.
Spawn wants to make their cake since the kitsune cake didn’t work out. Spawn is taking everything in stride and has not complained one bit. I am trying to gauge if they are just hiding internal tears…
nah, I’m really lucky, my kid knows I’m a walking accident waiting to happen and have the organization skills of a two-year-old, I’m sure they are just filing this away as yet one more thing they will complain to their therapist about being why they cannot seem to trust in any of their relationships.
Spawn just wants cake and a movie… How to Train Your Dragon 2. I have birthday candles that burn in multiple hues… somewhere… which of course, are nowhere to be found. Spawn refuses to let me sing again too… even pulled the “its my birthday to do what I want right?” when I wanted to argue.
So now I have to be content with the fact my kid is pretty low-key and may not ask for a damn thing this year… while I peruse Amazon and contemplate overnight shipping during the quiet moments of the movie…
Spawn decided they didn’t want a cake with icing, nothing standard. In fact, Spawn wants to make a rum cake from scratch. I can only think of one recipe worthy of following and it is one that is in the possession of my best friend and Spawn’s foster parent.
Both of my best friend and I are very strong introverts and when we have serious stuff going on, we withdraw and hibernate from the world. It’s been hibernating season for my bestie for a while now but hopefully they might come from the cave long enough to send the recipe to Spawn. Spawn and my bestie are rather similar in a lot of ways, I think they would find it novel that Spawn is taking such an interest in cooking.
And now, to Amazon… Spawn is getting suspicious of my typing…. *sigh* next year, will definitely do better next year…