Well, I survived the weekend. I was never so happy to see a Monday roll around. It was me against the cheesecakes and I triumphed. Although it was close. I ended up making 16 cakes! Yes. 16. At one point, my husband told me he should be filming me.
"Because this is just like those cake shows when something always goes wrong."
Ha ha, honey. You're so funny. Now shut up and hand me the damn cream cheese.
I'll spare you the gory details...if your into that, you can check out the link to my baking blog...(which my husband also thinks is funny. "so...you have one blog for your cakes and one where you can be nasty (referring to the manscaping post)?" I explained that it all has to do with my personality disorder...you know, that whole Martha Stewart meets Jenna Jameson thing.
I told him he should count himself lucky. My internal battle could be between these two:
But that's for a whole other post.
Not only did I pull off the cakes, I also managed to make it through Delaney's third birthday party. We had it at a park which was a stroke of genius on my part. Party at park = no house cleaning. Beautiful. And I didn't have to arrange any little party games to entertain children. Just set them free on the playground and everyone is happy. I might have to do Nick's party at the park as well.
Never mind the fact that it's in November in Colorado.
Maybe we could supply space heaters or something... If it spares me the agony of corralling 15 six year olds for a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, I'm all for it.
But anyway, my baby girl is three years old. I can't quite get over that. It seems like just yesterday I was laying in the hospital bed, screaming for an epidural.
"I'm sorry, but you're too far along," they tell me.
I think I might have cried.
Happy Birthday Delaney! Here's to many, many more!