The pressure…. of a cake…

 When your partner’s a pastry chef and a brilliant one at that, how is one to ever bake a cake without feeling the pressure of comparison? It’s a question I ask myself every time I bake. Am I being silly? Maybe, but when I spoke to a close friend and mentioned I was baking a birthday cake (a few days before my only child’s 1^st birthday mind you), she asked in amusement “Whose birthday cake are you baking? Can’t be Lilybelle’s, J will be making that won’t he?”… I’ve come to expect and to accept these kind of comments – as I’ve mentioned before, I’m the first to admit baking and I aren’t the best of friends. Thankfully (and rather cleverly I think), we decided to break up the parties between family and friends, so I quickly put my hand up to bake the cake for the family ‘do’ so as not to disappoint friends who have come to eagerly await Justin’s cooking whenever they come to visit. My poor family would just have to lump it (or eat it in this case).

So scanning the internet in my quest to research the easiest possible children’s birthday cake I could find in the hope that I wouldn’t make a complete ass of it, I was inundated with ridiculously difficult and crazy shapes and characters in which some over-achieving mums had moulded out of batter and icing! A handbag? A high heel? Barbie? Oh my god. What is wrong with these mum’s? Are they crazy? What happened to a yummy cake with lollies on it, like we had as kids? Apparently they went out of fashion just as the phrase ‘super-mum’ came in. Crap.

So why did I care? What was so important about baking this damn birthday cake anyway? Well I pondered this for a while as I took a breather from the super OTT display of images (my head was seriously spinning – I needed some air!). What I realized, with some surprise, was that this was really important to me – this was my little girls 1^ST BIRTHDAY! My only child, my first daughter, my baby – I wanted to make her something special that was delicious and filled with love that somehow represented just how much I love and adore her. Wow, heavy stuff when cakes are meant to be light and fluffy.

Honestly, the things that come out when I ponder the world – I put some of this emotion down to breastfeeding and crazy hormones, but I can’t dismiss all of it on that. I’ve realized that this 1^st birthday is not only a celebration of Lilybelle herself, but it’s also an incredibly special time for all of us as a family – a year ago today I was in labour and all three of us underwent an incredible journey together, one that was humbling, moving and changed me (and us) forever. Because when my daughter was placed in my arms, I became a mum. And J a dad. And 1 year on, looking at our little girl, we both feel it’s been the most amazing year of our life – and that is something truly special to commemorate.

Having this realization of course upped the ante somewhat. But I took a deep breath, baked a simple butter cake, made a yummy rosewater icing (I am a Rose after all) and made pretty marshmallow flowers to decorate. Yes, I went old-school and it turned out hmmm, ok – next time I’ll do a trial run first. It certainly wouldn’t win any prizes, but I put as much love as I could into that cake and that was what was important to me. And hopefully to Lilybelle, who thankfully has not had cake before and therefore can’t compare it to Justin’s yet! My family’s reaction? They kindly sucked it up, made hmm-hmmming noises and refrained from making comment!

 I think she enjoyed her first taste of cake...

“A well kept house is a life misspent…” It’s a perfect excuse for a messy house!

I was planned – I was prepared – or so I thought. Just before we are about to go away for a much needed mini break, Lilybelle get’s sick, the dog get’s sick and the kitchen sink starts leaking. Shit. And I was so organised this time – really. I started packing days before we had to leave (not the night before or the morning of which is much more true to style) and I had everything planned out. And then disaster strikes. Ok, bit dramatic I know, but this is why I struggle to plan things. I find the more I plan, the more things don’t go to plan. So what’s the point?

Aside from disaster disrupting our organised getaway, we had the pleasure of visiting very dear friends along the way – they too made a lifestyle change and moved out of the city but instead opted for a tree change rather than a sea change. Finally we got to visit their gorgeous new country cottage and Oh. My. God. It was perfect. I mean literally. It was like a House & Garden spread. Everything had its place and everything was in its place! While I pictured our own messy house, I was overcome with feelings of inadequacy as a stay-at-home mum. Why aren’t I this organised and neat?? I kept asking my friend, “where do you put all your crap? You know, your piles - of stuff – magazines, newspapers, letters, keys, etc….????” The short answer was essentially this - everything has its place. I love it – in theory.

In practice, it just doesn’t work in our house, not matter how hard I try. We have piles – everywhere (ok let me clarify here that I’m talking piles of accumulated stuff, not piles of the hemorrhoid variety!). And I am forever trying to tidy these piles of stuff but only end up creating new piles. Neat to begin with, but messy again in no time at all. Damn it, will I ever have a perfect home? In our defense, storage is not great, hence the need for piles. But I think the crux of it is, we’re just not neat nor super organised people! Let’s be honest, our house is bohemian at best, messy at worst. Is that because I (ahem, we) struggle to plan and be super organised like my very organised friends (and let me just say here, I am in awe of both of their organisational skills)?  Is it a part of my (our) essential nature to be a bit cluttered and chaotic (minimalism will NEVER be our style!)? Or is being neat and organised qualities I should be cultivating, especially as a mum where being prepared and ordered (at least to a certain degree) is essential for even leaving the house?

These are questions I ponder as I sit here typing at the kitchen table surrounded by little piles – neat piles because I’ve just tidied – but piles none the less. And the quote in the title of this blog – that is what J has kindly written up in a prominent position in our house – a daily reminder that chaos is just our style. So I may as well accept it.

Fashion faux pas' and funny dreams...

I had a terrible nightmare the other night. I woke with a start, breathless and sweaty with a pounding heart, horrified by what I had just seen in my dream.  Wait for it… I was wearing black jeans with, errghhh, white socks and sneakers! I know, can you believe it? The horror! I would never! How could I dream such a horrendous thing? An outfit such as this would never, I repeat NEVER be worn by me. So why did I dream it?

Dreams are fascinating to me for so many reasons. The fact that our subconscious conjures up stories and images while we sleep peacefully (mostly) seems utterly amazing to me and that there should be hidden messages within these dreams? Even more incredible. I have had a number of dreams that have stood out in my mind over many years, ones that I can recall in a second and still see the visions come to life in my mind. These dreams have given me important messages that I have both listened to and also ignored, perhaps at my own peril. 

One such dream occurred just after I was offered a full time position in a new company, one that I was so excited to be involved with. However I had my own business to run (Ciao Meow) and while I didn’t mind working as an independent contractor, I had sworn to myself never to be an employee again. Yet I felt torn as the position seemed so exciting with an enticing pay to go with it. Unable to make a decision, I dreamt I was working full time again and I HATED it with a passion! And the suffocating feeling of being trapped and smothered woke me in terror. Alas, I ignored the dream and took the position anyway. It was a disaster! Stressful does not even come close to describing my time there and devastatingly, friendships were lost. I feel terribly sad about this and often wonder if, had I listened to the important message in my dream, would it have all turned out differently? Hmmm.

Another pivotal vision that I will always remember was a dream I had a few months before meeting lovely J. In this dream, a tall dark handsome man (looking rather like Eric Bana) whom I knew I loved inextricably (as if you wouldn’t if he looked like Mr Bana!), proposed to me with a ring of Tigers Eye (this is a type of gem stone, one which I’ve never personally worn). When I looked at this man in my dream, I felt truly loved and I could see a beautiful family, which is exactly what I wanted for my future. When I woke I remember thinking how strange, why on earth would someone propose with a ring of Tigers Eye? It didn’t make sense. A few months later, I met tall dark handsome J and we became instant friends. One night when we were out together, I noticed he had a necklace on (not normally my style!)… as I took a closer look I noticed it was a gemstone. I honestly felt my heart stop beating as I asked him if that was Tigers Eye. His answer of course, was yes. This time I listened to my dream!

So what about this recent dream with my hideous fashion faux pas? Well I think there are 2 messages – firstly a reflection of how stuck my wardrobe is right now (c’mon, you know important this is to me!). I love clothes, always have, yet at present I have to admit to feeling very stagnant and out of touch with my beloved world of fashion. I wear jeans and Tee’s with connies pretty much every day (though since the dream I have been parading round in a cute pair of leopard print ballet flats to rid my mind of the sneakers-with-white-socks vision!). It’s a fashion conundrum that I have been fighting with for nearly a year now (since becoming a mum) and one that I have not yet resolved.

Which brings me to the second, probably more important message – that it has been nearly a year now and the stirrings of creativity have become stronger and stronger over the last few months. They are screaming to be let out because they have essentially spent nearly 12 months on the shelf while I first adjusted then embraced my new role as mum, which is a role focused almost entirely on nurturing others and the essentials of every day living and caring for family. It doesn’t leave much time for personal creative time! Actually sleep deprivation pretty much robs you of all desire and ability to be creative anyway, so there was really no point in worrying about it until I felt half human again. Which I am pleased to say that I do! Feel human again, that is. So while I am thoroughly enjoying my creative time blogging, I am feeling the need to amp it up a notch. If I don’t listen to my dream, I may very well find myself shopping for socks and sneakers! So stay tuned, I’ll keep you posted, as I shall be listening to the message this time – I have learnt my lesson on that front!