Taking The Cake

Tonight I finished baking my fourth chocolate cake this month, thanks to all the family and friend February birthdays. Chocolate was THE request. I think I'm ready to move on to other recipes, March celebrants....



Wanna lick the beaters?

Don't get me wrong, I love chocolate. What day is not made better by its presence? It's the perfect little pick-me-up when nothing else will do. (This feeling usually finds me around 3 p.m. in my office. If you happen to drop by, I'll be sneaking a luxurious piece of chocolate out of its hiding place in the depths of my desk drawer. I might even share, if you're nice.)

I read that chocolate contains a chemical called phenylethylamine, which causes a reaction in your brain similar to what you feel when you are falling in love. Delicious and enchanting. No wonder it's a Valentine's Day staple.

So as I say goodbye to February, the month to snuggle under the covers with a loved one, enjoy treats made of chocolate and linger over sweet prose from a little book of poetry, I'll avoid pondering how much chocolate I've consumed in this shortest month of the year. I'll try to reel in my chocolate cravings until..... Easter.

~Be My Valentine~ - 'JUNKMARKET' Style

This takes me back to the Valentines I knew when I was in third grade.

~Be My Valentine~ - JUNKMARKET Style

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Who Put The Happy In My Birthday?

It began yesterday. People with well wishes jumping the gun. And a delightful card that showed up at my office depicting all the things and people I love in this world and beyond.

This, for a girl who spent some years purposefully hiding her birthday so that nobody would notice. I blame this partly on the fact that a birthday so early in the year meant suffering through birthdays at the hands of people ridden hard by the holiday monster. I mean, really, who wants to concoct another celebration and come up with yet another gift in early January. Cake, too? Can't we just say we're exhausted and make it up at another time?

The other reason I hoped to escape birthdays was the confusion about happy celebrations and excitement for the sake of it. I spent a good portion of my 20s working through codependency. I worked 12-step programs and attended Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings. I learned why happiness didn't seem natural to me, but confusion and chaos felt normal. My 30s I'm glad to say approached normalcy and happiness rose to the top of things worth fighting for. Now, I say, bring it on.

Not to say that birthdays weren't special days in my family. There were birthday dinners and favorite cakes. My grandmother turned out this lovely creation called an Italian Cream Cake, my hands-down favorite: a dense white cake with pecans, coconut and cream cheese frosting (topped with more coconut). Lordy. I have so many fantastic memories because of my grandmother and I miss her dearly. So when this little card showed up at work reminding me of my favorite things, my eyes fell upon the center of the card where a red heart with the word "Grandmother" in the center stopped me for a few moments. I searched my brain for how anyone would know what to put on such a birthday greeting, and remembered a little questionnaire I filled out shortly after I accepted my position. Who did I most admire? My Nanny.

Today was a birthday approached with reluctance at first, then full-on acceptance, sprinkled with moments of pure joy. Here it is by the numbers:

11
The shades of red nail polish I own, all with their own merits. Though I rarely paint my fingernails because I'm so hard on my hands and the polish doesn't wear well, I can't give them up. I contemplated if the extra minutes to paint my nails would be worth it as a celebratory birthday gesture. Decided to skip it.

35
The number of electronic birthday salutations I received this year, which is 32 more than I received last year. Long live social media, the marvel of my life in 2009.

3
The number of times a memory of my grandmother reduced me to tears today. There are days when the longing to be with her is palpable and it makes me wonder if she's one of my angels in close proximity at the moment I'm having that thought.

16
The number of cents left in my checking account. Let's not go there.

20
The number of dollars I was given as a gift card from one of my favorite stores as a birthday gift to come in and shop. What?! Free money on your birthday? Not a bad thing. I must spend enough money there that they decided to give a little back. I figure it this way: a new outfit makes you feel brand new. More than new shoes or a new hairstyle. Feeling good on your birthday is worth a week's worth of lunches and coffee, especially when you start with twenty bucks free and clear.

36
The age I would be indefinitely, if the universe ever gave me the option. Also, the number of roses it takes, when presented en masse, to make me giggle like a young school girl for at least a good hour.

1
The number of flowers my son can draw on my birthday card to make my heart beam with joy.

5
The number of sugar highs I experienced today as a result of tiramisu (a favorite dessert), chocolate cake with white frosting, followed by chocolate cake with fudge frosting an hour later, a chocolate caramel candy after dinner, and another chocolate birthday cake at home with the family. That's a new personal record.

All in all, a very, very happy birthday.

Holidays With Heart

I'm poring over my finds from the One of a Kind Show today. Love it all. An entire floor of the Merchandise Mart in Chicago filled with artists doing what they are most passionate about. Oh what fun.

Here is my Vintage Sculpture heart that will find a place on my tree -- but a more permanent place after the holidays because I won't bear to wrap it in tissue and pack it away. www.vintagesculpture.com

Next stop: Weener Ware. Found a red cardinal in flight to wear on my lapel.
(www.weenerware.com)

Thomas Mann had lovely pretty things. Bought a tiny pewter heart to string on a necklace as a remembrance.... but will check out his catalog often! www.thomasmann.com

I could go on, and on. But I'm too inspired with thoughts to capture while the ideas are fresh in my brain. Got to get my hands dirty and be creative.

Attracted To These Holiday Magnets

The urge to paint has come upon me. Seems my most productive hour is between 11:00 and midnight.

These are sets of glass pebble magnets -- and they make great little hostess gifts.

Reeling From It

A smart woman told me the other day, "The universe always knows what you need, and gives it to you."

Well, excuse me while I recover from being bitch slapped by the cosmos. I'm not even sure what happened, which is I think at the basis of any good bitch slap.... you never see it coming.

It's not any one particular event, but a series of whirling dervishes set into motion by work / family / onset of the holidays / general conflict and over scheduling. I think my body started to shut down, because it started to rebel.

Then I had to resort to something I never do: ask for help.

The outpouring of kindness has overwhelmed me. It also kicked off an emotional upheaval that is like trying to stop the Mississippi River single-handedly. These days I can usually be found not more than arm's length away from a tissue box and people walk by doing double takes, wondering if they should say something. But what? "Here's another tissue"?

In retrospect, I probably don't cry enough. I'm probably too layered with self-imposed responsibilities that any minor infraction would seem cataclysmic. A better woman would take it in stride and say, "So what? This too shall pass."

Or maybe this is what is supposed to happen. Time to reach out to others. Lean a little weight on shoulders of those who care, love, and stand steadfast while I falter.

A sweet surprise showed up at my desk today, through a series of friends. It had a heartwarming note and a few sentiments -- and a book of positive affirmations. Page 164 says, "Allow others to give you loving care. Receive without guilt or apologies." -- Doreen Virtue, Ph.D.

I love you, my friends. I'll reel it in and be back to my old self shortly.

A "Break All The Rules" Day

Today my little boy turned 5.

I awoke this morning and forgot what day it was. My eyes opened, I looked at the clock, and my first thought was: it’s 6:30 and I’ve overslept. No, wait. It’s Saturday. As usual on a weekend, the two males in my household who are morning people were already awake.

“Is it my birthday today?” I heard Grant ask from the other room. He has been grappling with days, hours, weeks, and minutes to understand which is his special day. “Yes,” replied his father. “FI---NAL--LY!” said Grant, with all the bit of energy a fresh five-year-old could muster.

And so it is. Five years ago he was born. I remember the moment when he was placed on my torso, a completely warm, moving, lovely baby who has just made me a mother. It was like a dream sequence. I circled my arms around him and looked up at whoever was near and asked, “Is it real? Is he OK?” My mother shook her head yes, and then the whole rest of the world fell away and I was holding my child. At 6:59 p.m., after weeks and months or waiting and 26 hours of labor, my sweet baby boy came into this world and changed my life forever. Yes, it was your birth day. Fi---nal---ly.

When he turned one, I made a solemn vow to myself to spend “just us” time with him on his birthday. With the pace of life, and the fact that he would be more mobile at some point and not want to spend time snuggling with me during quiet time, it occurred to me that a loftier goal like a whole day together might not be reasonable. But a quiet moment to let him know he is completely loved on his special day would be a promise I could keep no matter what.

And so he sped off. Learned to walk; hit the milestones. He was a toddler when we first learned about his sensory integration issues (see http://www.sensory-processing-disorder.com/). He has normal days, and then there are days when his need to interpret the world in a tactile or physical manner is not socially acceptable, or welcome. He spends a lot of time being told “no” and “listen” and “don’t do that” and “you can’t eat that.” So today, I wanted to allow as much “yes” into his universe as possible. Starting with a donut with sprinkles on it for breakfast. Sugar and flour first thing in the morning, Mr. Gluten Intolerance? Sure. Followed by bowling with every plastic bottle he could pull out of the recycle bin. Play ball in the house? Terrific. Stay in his pajamas and not run errands with Daddy? Mighty fine. And a snack out of a large bag of Doritos that turned his fingers and lips completely orange a half hour before his birthday party? Go ahead. Fingerpaint with the nacho cheese for all I care. It’s his day; he gets to decide.

Next was the party. You would think that a birthday at Rainforest Café with animatronic animals, thunder and lightening, music, shooting stars, and friends would spell disaster for a kid with sensory issues. Surprisingly, it was perfect. Just when the little ones were getting impatient for the food to arrive, the apes would launch into their routine. Or a storm would pass. It was a fine environment for a boy with a short attention span and sensory overload.

We kicked more rules to the curb. Don’t wanna nap? Okay by me. Play with two remote-controlled toys while watching a video? That’s multitasking at its best. A second piece of birthday cake? Answer’s yes.

If you’re really lucky you can give your child all the basics – clothing, shelter, food, predictability, safety, and a few fun diversions. But if you’re really, really lucky you can give your child memories that are fond capsules of love, outrageous laugher, a sense of belonging, and a reason to look forward as well as glance back.

“I like my birthdays,” said Grant, with a yawn. In his honor, make tomorrow your “Break All The Rules” day. And may it be outrageously fun.


***Grant's drawing: He traced his big boy hand, and then drew a picture of himself with an M&M cake. About 6 months ago he didn't draw much more than a frantic scribble because he was being criticized in daycare for not holding a crayon correctly. So he never wanted to color. After some muscle therapy and a new daycare provider, this is what he can do.