Happy 50th Honey!

Sometimes you just need a recap of the day.

Yesterday was my husband of nearly 18 years, 50th birthday. For the past 2 weeks I asked him repeatedly how he would like to celebrate. Never did I get an answer. I asked if he'd like to celebrate the weekend before or the weekend after. Not a peep. Finally on Labor Day evening I said, "Welp. I guess we aren't celebrating this weekend." He found this amusing.

The presents have been here in the closet for a long time. Now granted - they are not wrapped - but they are ready. My mother and father have been waiting for the green light for the celebration. (Mom's presents are even wrapped!) But the clock ticks and ticks and he doesn't say anything.

Now I did that whole surprise party thing for him when he turned 40 and I will admit at 40 it all seems very appropriate - but not so much at 50. I can't explain it. It's just different. He's more subdued...perhaps partied out. :)

So his birthday arrives. It is a Wednesday. Wednesdays are work nights for me so I am not here for dinner and a majority of the evening. Yesterday happened to be an especially difficult day as I had to take my 10 year old daughter to get an MRI at 2:00 pm. This meant I had to have both kids finished homeschooling by 1:00 pm. Not such an easy feat. I also packed my dance stuff with me in case I had to leave straight from the radiology lab to the dance studio.

Just before 12:00 when I am pretty much toast and running around like a chicken with my head cut off, he asks very quietly, "So what are we doing for my birthday dinner?" Now I've been with this man long enough to know what he is doing. He is just trying to torment me. I've never heard him say anything about a birthday before other than, "It's just another day." With that, I tell him he can have anything that he would like as I will be working and leaving the house shortly. After this, he informs me that he will be leaving to go to the MVA as his license expires that day. Hmm. He leaves and then proceeds to call me numerous times to tell me how many more people are still in line in front of him. You know - since he is bored, I must be too...

We head out the door for the MRI. Once we get there my daughter requests that I come in with her. After they tell her that it is going to be about 30 minutes, she doesn't want to be alone. So I strip myself of all of jewelry, sign the consent forms and stand next to that VERY loud machine for 30 minutes. I have to keep reminding myself not to lock my knees so that I don't pass out. Meanwhile my back is aching and I cannot stop yawning with deafening click. click. click. By the end of the procedure I actually found there were several beats and rhythms to the machine and would catch myself tapping my toes and fingers to it. Weird?

We leave the procedure and head home. I get home, change my clothes, put up my hair and leave. I called my daughter to tell her that she should get her father to get what he'd like for dinner and I would bring a cake home. I wrestled with this concept of a birthday cake. Mostly because I was being completely selfish. I was recently diagnosed with Celiac Disease and have been put on a Gluten Free diet for the rest of my life. Apparently according to the doctor I was on the road to lymphoma - so that's never a good thing. Anyhow - I've been trying to cope with the situation and the thought of having a big beautiful cake in the house felt like it would send me over the edge. Everytime I thought about the family gathering around this cake I wanted to cry. Yes, big pity party for me. And yes, I do realize how selfish I was being. I asked for forgiveness..

I finally decide that I will bring home an ice cream cake. That way we can all participate in the festivities. I run over to Food Lion after teaching. I dash over to the bakery section and pick up a cake out of the case. I look on the side and it says "CHOC/VAN". Perfect! Chocoalte and vanilla ice cream.

I sprint to the checkout only to be stopped by a fairly long line. The wonderful gentleman in front of me with about 12 things in his cart looked at me holding my cake behind him. He motioned for me to go ahead. I thanked him and told him that I was trying to get home to celebrate my husband's 50th birthday! I paid for the cake and as I turned to leave the gentleman says, "You have candles, right?" I laughed and assured him that I did.

I put the cake into the car and headed for home. As I pulled into the garage, I had a strange moment. I don't know how to explain it other than something felt confused. I looked down at that cake and was concerned that I had not picked up a "Carvel". At that moment, I picked up the cake to see what manufacturer of ice cream cake I had. Suddenly, I realized - I had gone to the refrigerated section NOT the frozen section and this was in NO way an ice cream cake.

Now panicked I spun the cake to it's side to read what the "CHOC/VAN" really meant. I had purchased a chocolate cake. I couldn't believe it. The whole thing felt surreal. Not only had I not bought the KIND of cake I went in for but I bought CHOCOLATE! My husband despises chocolate.

I walked into the kitchen with the cake in my hands. My husband comes across the kitchen with a delighted smile on his face. You could see that he was happy that I had brought it home. That's when I blurted out, "Don't get excited. It's not what you think. I really messed up!" I proceed to relay the same story to him.

I go into the pantry to get the candles so that we can sing. I scoured the shelves. Another moment of panic. No candles. That gentleman warned me...
So my husband says, "Okay, let's sing so we can cut it! Where are the candles?"
I say, "I don't have any. I'm sorry. I thought I did. I don't know what's happening." He looks at me shocked. "What? Are you serious?" So I try to make it better writing Happy 50th with some piping gel...

My 16 year old goes to the drawer and pulls out the butane lighter and holds it over the cake. He says, "Ok, I got this. Let's sing." My husband looks at me and says,
"So this is what it has become, huh? Chocolate cake, no candles and a butane lighter when you turn 50." I felt horrible.

We sang. My son clicked off the lighter. My husband cut the cake. A few minutes later everyone was crowded around me eating the cake. They were all smacking their lips and I felt terrible. Terrible that the cake was chocolate. Terrible there no candles. Terrible that I didn't get to have cake.

My husband tries to smooth things over and says, "The icing is really sweet. The cake is very moist." I'm thinking, "Give me a break. I didn't bake the thing." The next thing I know my 16 year old pulls a long hair out of the inside of the cake. The kids immediately start making jokes about the hairy, chocolate Food Lion cake that I brought for Dad's 50th birthday.

After my husband ate his chocolate, hairy cake - he comes over to give me a kiss and says, "You know if the situation had been reversed and this had been your birthday - this would have been a BIG problem, right?"

The most ironic thing about all of this is that I am the eternal party thrower. I can throw a mean party. I have done it for YEARS! I am known for my ability to celebrate an event. I have made AMAZING cakes! I have turned my home into the solar system, my backyard into a carnival - my porch into Africa. You name it - I've tackled that theme. Yet here we are on my husband's 50th, with the most disastrous of events.

It is at this time that I know I've got to make up for this. I post a status on Facebook with a brief synopsis of the event. A couple of friends reflect upon one of my earlier posts...

...yes, I am aware that to truly rectify this situation it is a "close and lock" evening.