A Little Frosting and a Lot of Memories

This past week brought a little bit of everything: cakes, banana bread, campaign paperwork, tax preparation and a trip to Mom and Dad’s to help Dad and celebrate Mom’s birthday.

There was Mom’s lemon blueberry birthday cake, a long-overdue cake for Cameron and banana bread for Herbert. Somewhere between the mixing bowls and the trip, I also worked on completing my campaign financial report and getting tax paperwork together.

Yes, tax paperwork in October. Apparently, April doesn’t get to have all the fun.

It was a full week, but celebrating Mom brought back memories that have lasted much longer than anything on my to-do list.

Growing up, Mom and Dad always tried to do something special for our birthdays. Usually, that meant a favorite dinner, a special cake to celebrate.

One birthday dinner remains especially clear in my memory. I was 12, and Mom made barbecue spareribs, mashed potatoes and my favorite strawberry cake with homemade vanilla buttercream frosting.

All these years later, I can still remember what that cake and meal looked like and how it tasted.

I wonder whether Mom realized that an evening she spent cooking and baking would stay with me for so long. She was making her daughter’s birthday special, probably while juggling plenty of other things herself. Yet I remember the meal, the cake and the feeling of being celebrated.

Thinking about her birthday also meant finding a gift. Mom has always loved sewing and crocheting, so when I found a cute antique sewing box, it seemed just right.

Herbert thought it was an ice bucket.

That gave us a good laugh. I also managed to find one for our home.  For now, our sewing box will hold remote controls. I suppose even an antique can find a new purpose.

Mom tried to teach me to sew and crochet when I was growing up. Being left-handed made following her movements difficult, and she even tried showing me with a mirror.

She certainly gets credit for trying.

I am ambidextrous, which helped when I played tennis in college, but that ability never seemed to help me figure out sewing or crocheting. Somehow, the lessons never quite took.

Still, I have an appreciation for the time and care that go into making something for someone. I watched Mom do it for years, whether she was working with fabric, yarn or cake batter.

This past week, my version involved baking. Cameron’s cake was long overdue, and I was glad to finally make it.  I have made a tres leches cake for Cameron every year since he was seven after he tried one when we were in Florida after taking him and his sister out for his birthday dinner. There was banana bread for Herbert, too, and the chance to celebrate Mom with a cake of her own.

Along with the baking came the less exciting responsibilities. Campaign financial reports require attention, and tax paperwork has a way of reminding us it is still there. Traveling took planning, too, but we went to help Dad and spend time with Mom for her birthday, and I was grateful we could be there.

I don’t remember what else needed doing the week I turned 12. I remember spareribs, mashed potatoes and a strawberry cake with homemade vanilla buttercream frosting.

That memory made me especially thankful we had taken the time to celebrate Mom.