I’m a very basic baker. It’s not something I was brought up doing. Baking with my kids isn’t top of my list of fun things – but I do plenty of other nice things with them. My ex partner’s new partner (Y) is an amazing baker. In fact it all started with a cake, her infiltration in to my family. The day after she and my then partner (X) admitted their attraction for each other – and then decided not to tell either of their current partners and ‘just to be friends’. Such a cliche. Then went on to ‘just be friends’, destroying so much around them. She was 25, my partner was 42. I was 43.
Anyway, 18 months on – they live together. Our children live one week with me, one week with them. It’s a living hell for me and I feel broken by it – but I have to believe it’s best for the girls (X would have taken it anyway, even if I didn’t think that).
And now, birthday season is approaching for our kids. My youngest has asked if I’m ok with Y baking her cake (she told her she had an ‘idea for an awesome cake’). Of course I am, I have reassured her! I’m convincing, none of it is her fault, and she should not suffer just because I do. My oldest still resolutely wants my cake – which I now dread because it’ll be crap in comparison.
Anyway. They are with me now and I want to feel it’s heaven (and for fleeting moments it really is) – start of the holidays. Before jetting off with X and Y for a week in the sun. And I go to work. Enjoying this moment, trying to ignore the ticking clock. It’s just a cake as X said.