Are mom fails really a fail?
This Sunday was my son’s 9th birthday. The last year he will be in single digits. I have adopted the habit of making my kid’s birthday cakes from scratch. Not because I am even sure they give a hoot, but because I felt this little extra may be something they remember when they are older.
I will selfishly admit, I have hated the taste of every store-bought cake known to man, and have taken this on as a challenge. Also, from the bottom of my mama’s heart wanted something I made to be a special memory for them.
My son asked for an Oreo Ice Cream cake this year. Challenge accepted. Last year I made a 3-layer ombre cake for my 4-year-old, with no problems in sight, I figured this would be a breeze.
I got to work making a 6-inch double-layer Oreo Ice Cream cake. There are a couple of things that I did not consider when embarking on this lofty baking excursion. One was the lack of sleep from the night before and the simple importance of just slowing down instead of constantly flying by the seat of my holey yoga pants as per usual. I had church to attend in 45 minutes and was absolutely positive I could bang out the cake in that time.
I rapidly whipped up this masterpiece of a cake like a contestant on The Great British Show and rushed to church; hole in the armpit of my sweater and all, with zero time to spare.
I rushed home to frost the cake the kids waited so patiently to devour. It looked glorious, might I add.
I thought for sure I had nailed it.
Absolutely… NOT! The minute my son bit into it, the face he made was sheer horror.
He muttered, “Um, Mom.”
“What?!”
“Nothing, it’s fine.”
“Nope,” I replied. “It’s okay honey. What’s wrong with it?”
“It tastes like soap.”
I take a bite and gag.
The look on my other kid’s faces made it very clear this cake was total sh*t. ( I realized after re-reading the recipe that baking powder, the correct ingredient, was not used. I used BAKING SODA)
I apologized to my kid and felt like garbage for ruining his cake.

He, however, had the kindest response. “Mom, I don’t care that you messed up the cake you tried, and that is all that matters.”
Our kids will never cease to amaze us with their ability to give us grace and unconditional love. The love we often forget to give to ourselves.
So even though my cake was a complete dumpster fire from hell, my 9-year old sweet, compassionate kid definitely proved to me that I am not failing but succeeding as a mother in all the ways that truly matter <3