The birthday, the cake, and sacrifical love
Saturday was Patrick's birthday. We were blessed to go to Mass in the morning -- and doubly blessed to be able to run into a certain red-haired Sister friend of ours while there -- and then get ready for his birthday party. He took off to the grocery store, and Noah and I began a cake-making flurry of activity. {That baby of mine, he does make lovely company in what seems like whole days in the kitchen.} I am not my sister. She bakes cakes professionally. She makes fondant from scratch and little Disney people from moldable chocolate as cake toppers. She... well... wouldn't have made this. My little Kodak Easy Share doesn't do justice to just how darn ugly this cake was! I don't blame myself entirely; here's what happened. Three days before Birthday: Me: You'll want a cheesecake again this year, right? Husband Dear: No, don't worry about that. A plain white cake would be fine. Me (in sweet wife-y tone): But cheesecake is your favourite ! And I wo...