Move Over Cake Boss...

this mama can bake a cake!  At least she thinks so.  This time anyway.  I decided when Max turned one that I was going to make his cake for his birthday parties.  As long as it looked good, I really didn't care how it tasted.  (Apologies to those who had to eat them AND act like you liked them!)  I'm not exaggerating either... they certainly weren't going to get me my own TV show on TLC.  I'm pretty sure my camoflauge materpiece isn't going to get me my own show but it was at least pleasing to my palette!  And Max really liked it.  That's all that matters.  I do it for him.  Rob thinks I'm crazy althougth he has learned not to say that to me anymore.  After the Thomas the Train Cake incident he is supportive and tells me how nice the cake looks.  What's the Thomas the Train Cake incident?  I MAY have gotten a WEE bit hysterical when he told me that he couldn't believe I was "spending all that time" decorating the cake... that I should just buy one.  I MAY have become a blubbering idiot rambling about how my mom died when I was little and that all I want for my children to know is how much I love them and if it means that I spend an entire day piping stars on a cake that will get demolished in just seconds then that's what I'm going to do...or something like that... I can't quite remember exactly what I said...

Anyway, last Friday I spent the better part of the day making frosting and mixing colors to come up with the right colors for my camoflauge cake.  The occassion?  My Max turned 4!  Seriously... where has the time gone?  I just love this little guy!  He actually isn't so little.  At his 4 year old well child visit today he weighed in at 47.5 pounds, or the 97 percentile and is in the 100th percentile for height.  While he tries his hardest to convince me he isn't "little" anymore he cried like a baby when he got his shots.  Rob wanted to be in the exam room with Max so I stayed in the waiting room with the girls.   The blood curdling screams made their way to the waiting room.   I was so surprised when he came back out to the waiting room with tears running down his red, blotchy face.  He's still my little boy.

So, to my "lilttle" Max:  Happy Birthday, Sweet Pea!  I love you and you are worth every piped star on every cake I'll every make for you!  My prayer for you is that you grow up to be a strong, sensitive man;  that Christ is the center of your life and that you are passionate about all that you do.