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.
I am sure you know now but what makes things so special even if they do not turn out is the heart of the child who tried to make it. It is the desire of the heart that touches a parent and speaks louder than the item made. I kept many things my children wished I did not just because it meant so much to me and was dear to my heart. Now that they are older they too cherish the items because of the acceptance they got from their mother means so much to them.ReplyDelete
Such a sweet story...images played in my mind as I read it.....how special you must of made your dear mama feel...blessingsReplyDelete
Thank you for visiting my blog today. I will now be a follower on yours and I look forward to reading your posts.ReplyDelete
Have a great day!
What a sweet story!ReplyDelete
Such a fun post.ReplyDelete
I have enjoyed catching up with you today.
Have a lovely afternoon!
Aw, what a sweet mama you had to ask for another piece. I remember my first attempt to make supper for my family...I made hamburger gravy, but instead of 1/2 cup of flour, I put in 2 cups! Let's just say it took a LOT of water to thin it down. :)ReplyDelete
Oh my, how nice of your mom to ask for another piece of cake. The way I see it you really did have a great upbringing from your parents even if you have differences in the religious part of it.ReplyDelete
That was the sweetest story! As a mom, I can say I am sure your mother will always remember that cake as one of the best ones she's had.ReplyDelete
Thanks for visiting my blog. I'll be following yours as it seems like a lovely place to visit!
Mothers are like that. : )ReplyDelete
Such a sweet story. And, I bet the cake tasted pretty good anyway. I also bet it meant the world to your Mom, just because you tried! :)ReplyDelete
That is such a sweet story. I know for little girls if our dream doesnt work out perfect its like the end of the world. But as a mum, it just literally warms our heart. Everytime my little girl does something like that, I know its the best she can do and she did it with a whole heart. These gifts truly are the best.ReplyDelete
I love the fact that you all made something for your mother with your own hands. I think this is often lacking in today's society with birthdays and Christmas. A handmade gift shows so much more thought, time, and effort than a store bought gift, or cake. We end up spending too much money on something that might be forgotten in a few months. But the memory of a handmade gift is often treasured for years to come.ReplyDelete
Just love your story. It so reminded me of myself at my first attempt of making a birthday cake for my mother. I realized after getting the cake in the oven we did not have enough powdered sugar for frosting so my girlfriend who was helping me and OI turned off the oven went to the store and got the powdered sugar, came home and turned the oven on again. With two layers of cake and frosting it was not much more than an inch high. My mother like your mother told me how good it was.ReplyDelete
thanks for such a wonderful memory .
Our family stories include the time my mother first made a cherry pie for her new husband - the recipe called for a CUP of salt, and not knowing any better, she put it all in. We joke that that pie would still be perfectly preserved had it not been thrown away!ReplyDelete
What a sweet memory for both you and your mom.
What a lovely story. And thank you for popping by ............... xReplyDelete
What a sweet story of your mother's love - thank you so much for sharing this precious moment from your past!ReplyDelete
You know the saying, "Its the thought that counts." :) I laugh when I see the cards and such that I gave my parents when I was about 3-4. They always love them though.ReplyDelete