Why is it I feel the need to make an elaborate cake for T's first birthday? I mean he's not going to remember it and all is guest are babies too. Oh motherhood, what have you done to me? In fact why do I want to make the cake at all. I guess it seems like a gesture of love or something because there is this overwhelming feeling telling me to make an amazing cake. So much so that I am looking for the perfect recipe so that I can do a practice cake before his actual birthday.....wouldn't want his first birthday to lead to food poisoning.....not that I'm a bad cook. Now in the land of motherhood there is this overriding desire to be perfect. To make the birthday cake from scratch (though I never do for R or anybody else for that matter and probably never will again for T) and smile the whole time claiming, "it was nothing". Becoming a mother seems to have made that small irrational part of my brain the dominating force. When the rest of my brain is screaming, "You're CRAZY lady!!! You don't need to do this! It's OK" the dominating crazy part says, "oh yes you do need to do this. It's nice. Try it, you'll like it, it's good for you........It's good for T".

Seriously, somebody needs to have a chat with that irrational side and tell that Bitch to back off!