Asking for What I Wanted Was Easier Than I Thought
You can order your own cake and eat it too.
When it comes to birthdays, I am a yellow-cake-with-chocolate-frosting person. Any other day of the year I’ll try your red velvets, carrots, and German chocolates. But since I was young, a yellow cake with chocolate frosting is how I mark another trip around the sun. Something about the combination makes me feel celebrated. For many of my adult birthdays — five exactly — my husband was either deployed or away in training with the Marines. During those years, my aunt and uncle often showed up with a magnificent homemade cake. Sometimes my parents ordered it, and sometimes a friend or a colleague stepped in.
I’m not sure when I became a person who buys her own cake, but I suspect it happened after my thirtieth birthday. My husband and I both worked full time and our two children were young; things like birthday cake can fall through the cracks pretty easily in that scenario. The first year I ordered for myself, I called a bakery during my lunch break in the privacy of my office — I didn’t want anyone to overhear this conversation.
When the baker asked what I’d like written on the cake, I said, “Happy Birthday, Cate!” Why not keep true to the theme? “Great. And what’s your name?” she asked. I hesitated, cringing as I said, “Cate.” The baker gasped. “Oh honey! Happy Birthday!”
Aside from some mild embarrassment, I didn’t mind ordering my own cake though: There is satisfying efficiency in knowing what you want and making it happen.
Last year my husband arranged for a delicious dinner to be delivered to our house on my birthday, complete with a gorgeous pear tart for the dessert course. The only problem with the pear tart, of course, was that it wasn’t yellow cake with chocolate frosting. In an effort to rectify the situation, he fired off an order on his phone, and a half-hour later several slices of various cheesecakes arrived. Although it was exciting to witness my kids lose their minds over sampling seven different flavors of cake, I was disappointed; I tried to be a good sport and was thankful for all the effort, but it just didn’t feel like a birthday to me. Once some time and distance passed between us and the pear tart/cheesecake incident, I asked my husband if he could stick with yellow cake and chocolate frosting next time. Such a request felt silly and trivial, but I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t tart or cheesecake.
When the kids’ school notified us that Parents’ Night, which fell on my birthday, had gone virtual this year, my husband canceled our dinner reservation for later that evening. “Don’t worry though,” he said. “I already ordered the yellow cake with chocolate frosting — no cheesecake this year!” And it is no understatement to say that I was both joyful and relieved. As much as I’d like to play it cool and be more flexible — to be lower maintenance — I realized it’s best for me to speak up rather than seething silently in disappointment. Fast forward to Valentine’s Day and I couldn’t be happier with the flowers my husband sent to me — he knew exactly what I wanted.
Cate Stern is an attorney and mother of three living in Charlotte, North Carolina. She has written for Moms Don’t Have Time to Write, Scary Mommy, Mother Untitled, and Note Safe for Mom Group. She writes about family, friendship, and books at [f/k/a Cate].
