I can't believe it. Emilia turned two years old on Sunday. Where does the time go? (Oh dear, I am now officially in the group of old people who stand around bemoaning the passage of time all day. You know what I am talking about. The people who every time you leave the house feel it is their duty to tell you that your little one will be all grown up and moved out of the house before you can blink an eye. Very annoying, really. That being said, it is a valid question. Where does the time go?) Emilia is growing up so fast. And I cannot even begin to tell you how blessed I feel to be such a part of it. My mom always tells me, 'You'd never think there was such a girl before!'
As we drove home from our errands a few days ago, Emilia sat in the backseat of the car saying, 'Mia makes mama so gateful!' To be perfectly honest, before this little girl was born, I did not know what it was to feel truly grateful. I knew what the word meant, obviously, and I felt gratitude as much as I was apparently capable. However, it was this little life that totally, completely, and utterly changed my life, and gave me a true understanding of what it is to be grateful. In doing so, it has changed nearly every other aspect of my life.
I have always absolutely loved and adored my own mother, and have been beyond thankful for her. But even my appreciation of her has changed since Emilia was born. I suppose that being a mother has made me fully grateful for my own mother. Not to mention my lovely husband. And my dad. And my sister. And all of my family. And my religion. And everyone else in my life. (Alright, I'll curb it. I do realize this is teetering dangerously toward new levels of cheesiness, so I suspect it may be best simply to move on. But sometimes these things should/need to be said!)
And so, back to Sunday. After church we made a 'beautiful pink birthday cake.' Again, Emilia stood on the chair and was 'a very big help to her mother.' When it came to making the pink frosting, Michael and I both got very scared. Who knows how many spoonfuls she got into her mouth before the frosting was taken out of her reach. (Really, it is an awful lot of sugar [and butter] going straight into the blood stream!) However, she was more than delighted with the end result.
Once we'd finished with the cake, and Emilia opened her soccer ball ('a real one!'), a tea set, and a doll stroller from Grandma and Grandpa, we hopped in the car on our way to Aunt Kari's house for dinner — balancing a pink cake on my lap on the way. We had a grand time with the family, and Emilia absolutely worships her cousins.
As far as the cake was concerned, it was passable. Don't get me wrong, Emilia loved it and ate every bite (as did we). It was so sweet and pink and buttery, how could she not? However, I must have completely botched the recipe, because the two cake layers were like pound cake. Good, but not even close to being right. I suppose this is one of the many hazards one encounters trying to bake and be in charge of damage control at the same time. It is not easy when your now two-year-old is all hopped up on frosting, standing on a tall chair, and insisting on putting her little hands into everything, mind you. Now then, what was I just saying about being grateful?
The frosting recipe came from the Magnolia Cookbook. And the cake recipe came from Cooks Illustrated. Cooks Illustrated rated it as the best yellow cake recipe ever. Because I bombed it, I will not include the recipe here. Rather, let me try it again before I provide you with the details. You may have to wait awhile though, Emilia has had three different birthday cakes over the past week, so we may need to switch to a strict diet of green salads and lentils for awhile. Even though Trophy Cupcakes has already begun to sing our names...thanks Mom and David, 'and Yoo-gar, too!' We love you all so much.
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