So yesterday was little rough. Before you start thinking that all my days are rough, that’s not the case. I just don’t feel the need to tell you about the days when the dishes are done and the boys are playing peacefully, because, you know… then I wake up.
So anyway, yesterday began with 5:30 wake up for hockey practice, which we’ve covered already and makes me feel all:
But anyway, kids are up at 6, dressed by 6:30, and we’re out the door and on the ice by 7:30. Driving home, I have my day mentally mapped out. Shred the chicken in the crockpot for the FRG lunch, grab the cake I made last night, bathe boys, dress boys, deliver cake on the way to said FRG lunch, where I get to hang with my friends for a couple hours. So I’m feeling all:
And kind of:
Okay, whatever, right? We have to go so there’s at least one person from the company in attendance. So I ask Aidan to check if Brody is dressed (we bathed after hockey people, we’re not savages), and he assures me he is. So we’re 5 minutes prior to departure, because this house runs like a freaking airport, and Brody walks in… Dressed in freaking shorts like we live in Hawaii and it wasn’t a wind chill of -17 last night. After my head stopped spinning like the exorcist, I got him changed, put my big girl panties on, grabbed that cake, and got out the door. Ten minutes late. I’m pretty sure my kids thought I had lost my ever-loving mind.
Meanwhile, I’m half way to Fort Drum when I realize I’ve left my wedding ring at home (a pet peeve of mine), sitting next to: My military ID. FML.
You know those days? Apparently I’m having one. Again.
So I deliver the cake, drive across post, and walk into the luncheon. There may or may not have been girls there who I choose to not associate with. You know, the kind who you know keep a:
locked away somewhere. Come on people, just because girls grow up doesn’t mean they stop being mean. Bullies aren’t just in high school. So anyway, I sat waaaaaaaay far away on the other side of the room, tending the tykes and being glared at from the opposite side, and since I have no friends to sit with, I’m all:
So a girl sits down next to me, and I get kind of excited! As much as I don’t really like new people (seriously, you don’t know who’s packing crazy until you’ve been around for a while), I get kind of giddy, thinking “Hey, if she’s cool enough to sit down with people she doesn’t know, then rock on!” You know, until she starts instructing me on how to use smaller containers of milk so I can sleep in until 10 am like she does, and my kids can fend for themselves for a few hours.
Um, yeah. So I pull Running-Woman’s rip chord, and think, “huh, well we’re not going to be friends.” But as she goes on and on about insane things that make me ponder the absurdity of this situation, all I can think is:
For all you new army wives, THIS is why you date your friends. Choose wisely, young padawan. After a sufficient amount of face time, assuring our BCO’s wife that our company has representation, I’m out the freaking door and headed home, trying to maintain some form of grace.
But I digress.
Did I mention the big fact? THIS was my LAST cake delivery. The hubs and I agreed that I would take a few months off while we gear up for deployment, and I can concentrate on writing (not just the blog, it’s not all about you, people), and our family for a bit. Goal: Get this hot mess under control.
You see, decorating cakes is not quite what people think. You expect your life to look kind of like this:
But just for fun, these are a couple of my favorite cakes that I’ve done:
All happy, and sugary, and beautiful, right? Well, sure, until you add people into the mix. Spoiler: Not all people are nice. Shocking, I know. You’re up until late hours of the night, spending hours on something that’s about to be devoured in about 15 minutes, and you get a few clients who seriously believe that their one year-old will be devastated if the pink is one shade off.
So after you whip up this cake that is seriously stunning, you kind of expect:
But what certain responses are is more like:
That doesn’t mean there aren’t AWESOME clients whom I adore and always make exceptions for, because there are, and I love you. It just means that I need a break from the non-awesome ones.
You know, the ones who make me say:
Luckily, I have this awesome husband who wants me to spend my Friday nights with him, instead of in the kitchen! And with the way writing has been speeding up, taking more and more time, we both agreed I’d quit the job that makes money to focus on the one that doesn’t.
That doesn’t mean I won’t go back to cakes, but it does mean that my world is widening, opening up to make room for the awesomeness I hope is coming. And hey, since I can’t get into:
Oh, and no more weekend cakes means I’ll get to kiss my husband more on Friday nights.