My parents birthdays were both in the month of July. While growing up that always required quite a bit of planning and scheming on my part to find the perfect gift that I could make for them. Since today is tucked nicely between both of their birthdays I'm sharing the post I did about the first time I tried making a special birthday cake at the age of ten.
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Mom's birthday was always a special occasion. Daddy used to have a nice gift for  her and we children would try our hand at creating something special  too.
The busy summer days were passing and as her birthday approached I  kept trying to think what I could make for her this year. John and David were  making a wooden shelf with a cute little rail around it, but so far I still  couldn't think of anything.
I dug through boxes of fabric scraps hoping  that I would become inspired but nothing seemed to work. Then one Saturday as we  were doing our weekly baking I found a recipe book that had colored photos of  desserts. As I paged through it I found what I was looking for. A beautiful  marbled layer cake with thick fluffy frosting.
I knew Mom had a doctors  appointment a few days before her birthday which would give me the golden  opportunity to have the kitchen to myself to bake the cake while she was gone  and the mess cleaned away before she came home.
I took the cookbook to my  room and pored over the recipe. I had visions of how pleased Mom would be when  she saw and tasted the beautiful cake I was going to bake.
The day  finally arrived when she had to go to her appointment. I kept watching out the  window waiting for the driver to come. After what seemed like a long time I saw  him appear over the hill. I told Mom he was coming and she hurried to get her  bonnet and handbag and told me after I swept the kitchen floor I was free to  play until it was time to peel potatoes for supper. I watched as they backed out  the driveway and drove down the road.
I got the mixing bowl out and  started on the cake. It wasn't long before I remembered I needed to preheat the  oven. I opened the stove door that held the oven burners and pulled them out.  After carefully tipping the chimneys back I turn the wick up and carefully  struck a match to light them. As the flame caught the wick and started spreading  around it I lowered the chimney. It got stuck a little bit and as I jiggled it  to loosen it when it suddenly dropped down and snuffed my flame. I tried it  again but the same thing happened. After numerous attempts I finally gave up and  went down in the shop and told Daddy what my plans were and how I couldn't get  the burners lit. He came and lit them for me, and after I had adjusted the wick  until the flame was burning a nice blue like Mom always did I was finally ready  to continue with my cake.
I showed Daddy the picture of the cake I was  planning to make. He smiled and said "It looks really good," as he patted my  shoulder and then went back to his work in the shop.
I glanced at the  clock and was dismayed to see that I had wasted quite a bit of time trying to  get the burners lit and decided I would have to cut a few corners if I wanted to  have the cake cooled enough to have it frosted before Mom came home. I decided  to make only one layer instead of two. It didn't take very long to make the  batter, and I was feeling better about my plans again. The recipe told me to  melt some chocolate chips and stir them into part of the batter. To save time I  decided to just pour the chocolate chips into the batter and let them melt while  the cake was baking and have a lot of cute little swirls in the cake. I poured  in the chips and stirred it 
vigorously and then decided to pour another  cupful of chips in to make it extra special.
As I poured the batter into  the 
cake pan I  had visions of Mom asking me how I ever managed to make so many little chocolate  swirls in the cake, and how pleased she would be to find out how easy it was. I  set the timer, and then turned to the frosting section in the cookbook to find  the perfect recipe.
I wanted to try something different from the regular  one Mom used to make, and it didn't take me long to find it. Lemon Flavored  Icing. I got my bowl ready and dumped the powdered sugar in and added lemon  juice. It wasn't turning out creamy and fluffy like I had hoped it would but I  didn't have time to start another batch. The cake was now cooling in the  refrigerator and I needed to get it frosted and hidden before Mom came  home.
As I was washing the dishes I had used I thought of the perfect way  to still make the cake beautiful. I would use food coloring. The back of the  package had instructions on how to mix the colors to get a color other than the  basic four. A lovely purple would look very pretty and be just the thing to help  the cake become special since so far it wasn't co-operating with the one I had  envisioned. I carefully measured in the drops of food coloring but instead of  turning a lovely purple it turned into a sickly hideous brownish orange. I felt  like crying as I looked at it.
There was no time to do anything because I heard the crunch of gravel on the  driveway and when I looked out the window and saw that Mom was at home I quickly  grabbed the cake and my bowl of frosting and ran upstairs to my room. I sat on  the floor and 
poured the frosting on the cake. It was too  thin and as hard as I tried to spread it evenly over the cake I soon found out  it was impossible as it all wanted to pool around the edges. I hid it in one of  my desk drawers and went downstairs and helped Mom get supper ready.
When  her birthday arrived and I presented her with my miserable cake she smiled and  beamed as if it actually looked pretty. She cut pieces for everyone. I was  disappointed to see that the chocolate chips didn't melt and swirl like I  intended that they should and since I had added more than double what the recipe  had asked for the cake was crumbly. The icing wasn't much better since it had  dried to a brittle lemony mess. Mom must have sensed that my dream cake had  turned out all wrong because she asked for a second piece, commenting how nice  it was to have a daughter old enough to make a cake all by herself.
I  still wasn't happy with the cake, but Mom made me feel special and I vowed to  make it up to her next year by making something really nice for her birthday  instead of a cake.