I tried to make a chocolate cake last weekend. It did not go well. I forgot baking soda and ended up with two dense and inedible chocolate discs. It was too sad to even memorialize with a picture.
I really wanted chocolate cake though, so I tried again this weekend. And everything was going so well, and I was so happy about this (stupid) cake, and then I started stacking the layers.
And the whole #@&#@*^! thing fell apart.
Granted, this should not have been surprising to me. I didn't level out the layers before I started stacking them, and I also didn't let them cool all the way (I was very impatient for chocolate cake, given that this was the second attempt already.)
And while I will readily admit that it was extremely delicious chocolate cake . . .
. . . for some reason it just pushed all the wrong buttons in my head when the middle of the cake cracked wide open. Chocolate-iced grand canyon. And I just LOST IT. I cried for like 2 hours straight about the stupid cake falling apart. Because in my very tired and very chocolate-deprived brain, this cake was symbolic. It wasn't just the cake that was falling apart, it was everything in life. And if I can't make a simple chocolate cake from scratch after two tries, who am I to be raising another human being, sob sob sniffle sniffle. And on and on with the irrational thinking.
You get the idea. I am just a total treat to be around right now.
Steven did his very best to bring me back to this side of reality, including serving himself a piece of cake and telling me how very delicious it was. (I know, he really took one for the team.)
Anyway. I woke up the next morning and realized that I'm a crazy fool. And then I had a piece of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream. And it was amazingly delicious. And then I felt much better. So clearly there is only one lesson to be learned from this. Pregnant ladies are insane. Don't let them near a chocolate cake recipe without direct supervision.
In other news, we've had an eventful Mother's Day today. A little dog named Lucky showed up in our front yard, either lost or abandoned, and we've spent most of the day trying to track down her owners.
Her tags have a phone number, but the number is no good. I've called the shelter but I don't really want to take her there.
I'm hoping that someone comes to claim her. We put up signs in the neighborhood and emailed pictures to the HOA, so hopefully someone will contact us soon. Steven has quite firmly said, "No More Dogs," so I guess that means we can't adopt her.
Even though she is very cute and well behaved.... (Can you tell I'm still trying to get him to change his mind?)
Despite all the crazy that I've been lately, Steven still managed to pick out a very sweet and wonderful mother's day present for me, and even had it beautifully wrapped.
Of course, I opened the card and read that it was from "Steven and [name of baby girl]" and I totally blubbered. It was adorable.
I have this sinking feeling that I'm going to be one of those moms that cries at each milestone. Baby took her first steps? Waaaaaa! Putting her on the school bus? Booohooooo! We should go ahead and buy stock in Kleenex and waterproof mascara.
But at least all these memories will be beautifully preserved. I just have to try not to smudge the ink with my snot.
Happy Mothers Day to my mom and to Mom Steele. I'd send you my chocolate cake recipe but I haven't quite perfected it yet. ;)