Cupcake

I think it’s cupcake story day.

I don’t have a great spring cleaning tale or anything exciting happening, since we’ve just moved out, and have had one heck of a week doing so.
Sprinkle in some late nights with friends, scrubbing a year’s worth of gunk from my stove/fridge/dishwasher/microwave and kitchen cupboards, working 8 to 5, a cat that hasn’t stopped crying because I won’t let him outside at the new apartment and you’ve got the week I’ve had.
It was one to remember, er, maybe actually to forget. All I can say is that I’m glad we’re at a stopping point, and yet I can’t wait to do it again to move into our new place.

Anyway, back to the cupcake. We’ve been thinking about the spaz children both of us were/are, and how it’s going to translate to our own kids, in the not-too-distant future.

One of Phil’s favorite stories of me as a little girl is one about a picnic and a cupcake.
As you know (or can assume), I love food. Always have, always will. It’s a “well-earned comfort” (now I just need a pipe and some hobbits to teach me how to blow smoke circles). please excuse, for Kylee.

We were at Chip and Ginny Derr’s awesome log cabin in the woods in the spring when I was probably eight years old. They had this smorgasbord of food out on their front porch, tables streaming full of food, and most importantly, chocolate cupcakes for dessert. It was a pretty big group, and when my turn to go through the line came, I made sure to get one of those cupcakes right away. My dad said:
“Now, Abby, you’ve had one cupcake, and you may only have one. That’s enough.”
.
.
.
Um, so I plunked my eight-year-old bottom on their stairs and ate my plate of deliciousness, and ate that cupcake last. IT was SO glorious.

My perch in reference to the food table was just a few feet—out the front door to the porch—and all the adults were in conversation somewhere else; I couldn’t even SEE my dad. How would he know if I had just one tiny one more?

So, I had another one. I thought I was super spy and sneaked out the door and coolly helped myself to another cupcake. I ate it quickly though, just in case. I didn’t see anyone and I thought I was golden.

Nope.

Spanking the next day, because SOMEHOW my dad knew. To this day, I don’t know how he knew I couldn’t resist the cupcake’s siren call.
It’s so not me. *

*actually, it is me. I would do a lot for a special treat. Phil knows. That’s why this story is his favorite. Goose flag story to come. xoxo.

Traditions

My friend Katie has two gorgeous little kids. She is getting ready to celebrate the birth of her first, a little spitfire girl whom I adore. She told me today that she’s carrying on a tradition her mom started with her and her siblings. They would wake up on their birthday morn to a bouquet of balloons tied to the bed! I think that’s a great, fun way to start a celebration day especially for the five year old I know is getting them tomorrow.
Happy Birthday, Aviel!

Anyway, I was inspired to start a list of some of my favorite traditions that I have from my own childhood (and adulthood…)

My mom is super awesome, there’s just no getting around that. Everyone who knows her will agree. She’s super creative, bursting with energy, hilarious, and just so much fun!

Here’s a few of my favorites:
We used to have a “you are special today” plate that we ate our birthday meal on.

We got special Valentine’s Day gifts on a red-themed breakfast table in February.

She made us treasure hunts on Easter to find our bursting-at-the-seams Easter baskets.

We went to the beach every year since we can remember, and she invented “grab bags” that we were able to pull one treat out of every hour, on the hour to make the trip go faster.

At Thanksgiving, we had to share the things we were most thankful for around the table. She usually dragged us for a hike sometime during the day, too :)

Christmas Eve: we were “put to bed” with a candle and a prayer with both mom and dad. Even now that I’m married, they still light our candle and pray with us before we walk (ourselves) to bed. *chuckle*

Christmas was the best: we made a plethora of cookies, and the house was decorated differently in every room, every year. We have huge stockings that she always filled too full so they couldn’t even hang up when we saw them Christmas morning. We listened to Daddy read the Christmas story before any of the festivities. Christmas breakfast was the most delicious one of the year and to this day we always have ham and egg casserole. It smells like Christmas to me :)

I know I’ve forgotten really good ones, but in a nutshell, these are truly some of the most important things I will pass along to my own children. It’s awesome to have a family, even more divine to have one that’s as great as mine.

(OH! And one of the best ones, hardly a tradition, but a signature move of my mom’s was the hold-each-other-until-you-smile ploy she would use when we were sibling-fighting. I can firmly attest that this trick will be used in my house :) It’s hilarious.

What are your favorite traditions?