Dear A.,

Happy 12th birthday! I remember, before your brother turned 12 how I had a habit of saying anyone immature was “acting like a 12-year-old” — something I picked up from my boss at the time. He turned 12, I said it one more time and he said, “heeeyyyy — I’m 12. You’re going to have to pick on another age.”

So I swore off picking on 12-year-olds long before you got here. Lucky you.

But enough about your brother already. I’ve been composing daily letters to him before he goes to college but today is your day — there’s no letter for him today. I’m sure it must feel as if everything is about him these days. Let me remind you though, as of Aug. 19, the day he leaves for CNU, our attention will be completely focused on you.

Taking the role of temporary only child is sometimes good, sometimes bad. Just think! We can blame everything on YOU! On the flip side, you get all the benefits of having us around and taking advantage of all the entertainment we provide.

Of course, being 12 means more in this house; more chores, doing your own laundry and additional responsibilities. With these come more privileges, too. The three of us are going to have a great time this year and even though you don’t think so, I know you’ll be happy to see your brother when he returns.

This year you’ve grown up so much. Everyone thinks you’re older than you are, something you’ll like until you get to be about 30. At 5′9″ you’re on track to pass me up by the end of October, you and I both agree. Of course your growing up has been more than merely physical. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our philosophical discussions and have stood in awe at your growing interest in politics and in the world around you. It has given me a flash into what the future will hold when we are both grownups.

This has been the year you dove headfirst into reading as obsessively as your mother, the year you started your own blog, The Daily Banana (because, duh, you eat a banana every day), the year you developed a passion for anime and manga and a talent for basketball. You’re becoming a teenager before our very eyes.

Now, if we could just get you to stop speaking text-speak, (LOL, TTYL, etc.).

I’m so proud of you and love you so very much.

Mom

The Girl Turns 12

I took a break from pie and drifted over to the land of cake. The girl requested banana cake and I decided to get fancy with it and make fondant.

It turned out pretty well — a pale blue (that matches the new paint in her room) and the requested clouds. I also did a ruffly band around the cake and that was the limit of my fanciness.

Not a bad first go at fondant. I may do it again, once, in about ten years.

Cake is really not my specialty, as the boy would point out again and again. Partly it is because I decide on any cakeworthy occasion to try a new, previously untested (by me) recipe. I figure I can read, right? So how hard can it be?

Cake is always better with ice cream

Unfortunately not all internet-based recipes are worth a pinch of salt and I’ve been burned a time or two by cavalierly plunging forward with an unreliable cake source.

This time I was OK, though. Fondant is really not a big deal; just marshmallows and powdered sugar heated, kneaded and, if you’re up to it, color it. I made blue and pink, which, in restrospect, were sort-of babyish colors, but that’s the way it goes. When the girl was about four, she requested a green, orange and yellow cake. Then she raked her fingers through the just-decorated cake. I gave up getting too attached to my cake decorating attempts a  long time ago.

The girls enjoyed the slumber party and our girl was delighted with her gifts, the cake, and being surrounded by her best friends. They played games, ate lots of food, slept little and I think, had a pretty good time.

Me? I think I’ll go back to pie.

Moments ago I was elbow deep in Crisco.

Don’t ask.

We’re hosting three pre-teen girls tomorrow night for the girl’s birthday party. She declined my offer of birthday pie and has generously allowed me to bake her a birthday cake.

“Your birthday cakes are crappy. Just go to the store,” said my son, the one I will not miss this fall.

“Hey, at least I TRY.”

And I do. And yes, some of them have been crappy. He tried a too little too late save: “But they taste good.”

Whatev.

The girl wanted what we all want but cannot have: a Carmela cake. Carmela is my best friend. She makes gorgeous, divine cakes. Each of us has been blessed with a Carmela cake at one time or another, to commemorate some special event in our lives. Mel’s cakes are what everyone wants for their birthday. It can’t happen though; Carmela’s in Colorado. We’re in Virginia.

I was inspired to try to emulate a Carmela cake however, spurred on by my brave friend Danielle’s fondant experiment, I researched fondant online and tonight, went to work. Yes, that’s where the Crisco comes in you sicko.

So the fondant is made, the cakes will be baked tomorrow and another birthday grand experiment will draw to a close, for better or for worse.

They’re always made with love.