Wedding Cakes and Keepsakes

Well, I finished my first solo wedding cake (without the assistance of my mom, a.k.a. cake decorating instructor). I actually had a lot of fun doing it, and was quite proud, especially considering all 3 of my darling offspring were here the whole time, and their father was not. The worst thing that happened was Vivian coloring her entire left arm with a black dry erase marker. And my living room looks like Toys R Us threw up in there. We had the occasional meltdown, but none of them were mine, so it was all good. Here's some pictures.

The only sad thing was, I had to leave right before they cut it. My kids did pretty well through pictures, ceremony, and most of the reception, and then we reached THE END of that good behavior. (It's only after you become a parent, that you realize weddings are seemingly always held during naptime) Vivian was literally falling asleep standing up next to Daddy's chair, so we came home. But I bet that cake tasted pretty good, and I'm hoping there are some leftovers around at the in-laws tomorrow :)

Yesterday I went upstairs and was rummaging through my big wooden trunk. Tony made it for me right before we got engaged, and it's full of all of our stuff from our wedding. Some decorations, my shoes, our guest book, leftover wedding programs, half-burned candles..... I was searching for a cake knife and server . . . you know those ones with the fancy handles? Looking through that trunk brought back memories of our wedding, nearly 7 years ago now! But I started wondering . . why do people keep things ... like cake servers? What sort of sentiment, exactly, is attached to that? I got an image of myself about 12 years from now, sorting through that trunk with my kids and showing them the stuff that's in there. "And, THIS little beauty, is the KNIFE AND SERVER that we used for our WEDDING CAKE!!! TOTALLY WILD, right??" And I could almost see their blank looks.

But a cake server is probably a little less insane than some of the other things I've kept as keepsakes over the years. For example, I have stored away in the bottom of that trunk, a very dented, beat-up Pepsi can. One time when Tony was visiting me in Indiana, we went canoeing at a state park not far from where I lived. It was my first time canoeing, and it was the most perfect day. It was beautiful weather, and I remember the patches of sun and shadows playing on the water that was so clear you could easily see the bottom. We kept spilling, mostly because Tony kept dumping the canoe on purpose, and it wasn't long until we were soaked and muddy. I so clearly remember his muddy face, grinning across the canoe at me like a little boy. We eventually got SO VERY thirsty, but hadn't packed anything. And then around a little bend in the river, we came upon a lone can of Pepsi, perched in a little sandbar, just sitting there like it was waiting for us. It wasn't dented or anything, was in perfect shape, and was even nice and cold. So we shared it, and nothing ever tasted so good, even though I'm not a Pepsi fan. So I suppose I'll keep my trunk of strange keepsakes. My kids can roll their eyes all they want, but someday they'll have a stash of their own.

After spending the day very dressed up, I have come to a conclusion. Diamonds are not a girl's best friend. Sweatpants are.