Rainbow Cake

rainbow cake

It has been another one of those unexpectedly busy weeks where, despite trying to do very little above and beyond what was necessary, the hours have flown by at a very alarming rate.

The week started with us making a rainbow cake.  As some of you may recall, the wee boy has been talking about this for quite a while now and I had promised him, in the half term holidays, that we would give it a go, little realising that the holidays coincided with our lovely Charlotte’s birthday.  So, we made her a rainbow cake for her birthday.

When I say we, I am being generous.  The wee boy did a little stirring, a lot more licking, and when the violet cake fell apart – you’ll notice there are only six colours and not seven – he did a great deal of ‘quality controlling’.  However, it finally got made and presented, covered in icing, silver balls, coloured sugar, and love.

Interestingly, when the cake was cut, none of us, for one second, thought there was anything unusual about having a large, six layered slice of special birthday cake, despite each slice being absolutely ginormous.  Oh no, instead, we valiantly waded through the layers, stopping regularly for a swig of tea, and then more tea, until the wee boy, with still a mountain of cake to go, declared he’d had enough.

There was still plenty of cake left on all plates, but we trundled off on a dog walk, convinced that we would make room for the final part of the slice on our return.  Imagine then, our genuine surprise when himself came home and cut himself half a slice.

Just three colours.

*metaphorical lightbulb switches on*

Himself and I don’t do Valentine’s Day.  Mainly because neither of us are comfortable with the commercial concept, but also because we both believe that love should be given all year round.  That said, I would never judge anyone who does wish to engage with Valentine’s Day.  It’s a personal thing.  However, I do try and let people we love, know that is how we feel, so was brought to tears later on in the week when, flying hither and thither, the wee boy and I were on the telephone to son #1 and he finished the conversation with ‘love you’.  Similarly, when the wee one telephoned son #1 again, he left the conversation with ‘lots of love’.

I cannot put into words just how much this makes me glow inside.  I’m more proud that my boys can express their love for each other and us, than any bunch of flowers or heart embossed card and hope that nothing and no-one manages to crush that piece of perfection they both have within them.




Birthday Love

birthday lemon cake

Yesterday we celebrated the wee boy’s fifth birthday.

After counting down for 84 sleeps, it has been a long while coming, although for me, a day I was in no particular hurry to get to. I love every day we have together as though it was his birthday, it’s just that on the actual day there is slightly more paper to clear away.

Of course it is also a day of reflection.

Who would have thought, entering that French farce of bright lights and white walls, the team bedecked in various shade of green, white and blue, chatting about goodness only knows what whilst the novice anaesthetist looked on, trying out his idle banter on me, looking ever so slightly out of his depth, we would be at this point so soon?

Who would have thought, as my beautiful man emerged in the doorway covered head to toe in pale blue disposable surgical wear, this was the start of what I now realise is a journey of truly unconditional love?

And then that night, now sporting the surgical stocking look, with a ‘just above the knee’ nighty on (an interesting item of clothing I’ve never worn before or since) and hair that had absolutely no intention of doing anything but draping itself around my head at a 45 degree angle, begging the nurse to take me down to intensive care to see my boy.  My beautiful boy who, when I eventually arrived there, had been dressed in orange.  My favourite colour.

Who knew that this love would just keep growing?

And yet it has, and here we are, five years on.  Although it feel like five minutes. Perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration.

Five months.


The day itself began with a request for lemon drizzle cake.  His favourite of the moment, and also one which meant Madeleine would be able to have some, as the wee one pointed out, Madeleine doesn’t like chocolate cake.  I know, it’s a difficult concept to come to terms with, and I may have to mention it in yet another blog before you really, truly understand the impact.

However, I digress.

The day became a series of ebbs and flows.  But every single minute was wonderful.  We had some family and a few very close friends stuffed into our not so large, but very, very comfy home, and managed to nibble our way through all sorts of party food for a good three hours.

Of course the afternoon cake (a request of shop bought Star Wars) missed it’s piece de resistance – a sparkler in the shape of a number 5 – as, despite buying it a couple of months ago and congratulating myself on my forward planning, I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I’d put it.  Always in these situations I will look over and over again in the same place, when really I should just accept that I have probably moved it ‘somewhere safe’ and expect to find it in three months time.  But no, my mind insisted on plodding through the motions even though my eyes had switched off completely.

But that aside, it was wonderful to reach another milestone with such a glorious group of people.

Which brings us up to date as gradually, everything goes back to normal.  Except it doesn’t yet because now, there are only 3 sleeps until son #1’s Christmas show, 11 sleeps until son #1’s birthday and 16 sleeps to Christmas…