First birthdays are interesting. The birthday child has no idea what’s going on. They are dressed up, hauled around and positioned with props, as LOTS of pictures are taken. My youngest granddaughter just had her First birthday party. Yes, I did take a ton of pictures. But, one of the perks of a digital camera is that you can take a hundred and then delete all but five.
The party brought back the memory of my oldest son (her dad) and his First birthday party. The guests were mostly adults, like most First birthdays are. I was young and not comfortable with entertaining A LOT of extended family in my living room. I wanted everything to be perfect because obviously that would prove I was a really good wife and mom. No insecurity issues there. I baked a sheet cake, not the day before but the morning of the party. I am not sure what I was thinking. Someone should have intervened!
My mom was helping me with the party food. She was happily prepping something at the kitchen counter. The oven buzzer went off, the cake was done. I asked her to move an empty pot that was sitting on a burner, so I could sit the cake on the stove top to cool. I didn’t give it any more thought. I left the cake innocently sitting there while I worked on the other party preparations.
Then I smelled it. Something was burning…but what? I checked the oven, it was off. Nothing was cooking on the stove. Well, except…my cake! Yes, my mom was getting ready to make something in the empty pan sitting on the stove and had turned the electric burner on. I didn’t notice it because I had a big cake in my face and she was in a rush to help me and I guess she just forgot it was on. Anyway, I pulled the very hot cake pan off the top of the stove, let it cool (someplace else) and then flipped it over to survey the damage. In the bottom of my cake (now the top) was the black, crispy outline of the electric burner! I could have cried. Remember, I said that I DID NOT make it the day before but right before the party? So, making it again is not an option.
I did the only thing I could do at the time. I carefully cut out the burner marks and filled the large hole with icing. Then I iced the rest of the cake and decorated it. When it was time, I started serving it from the non-burnt side. I was nervous and a little embarrassed but I didn’t hear any complaints. I fessed up later, after the party was over.
I couldn’t laugh about it then (I was horrified) and I probably gave my mom a hard time, but now it is one of my favorite stories.