An Adoption Process

Here I sit, on the bed. Alone.
Muffin is in the lounge room playing Tiger Woods Golf with his cousin, Cheesecake.
On the bed next to me is our new child.
Slightly less then a week ago, 6 days, 9 hours, 27 minutes ago, this Cupcake and her Muffin took one step further in creating a little bakery of our own.
After much deliberation, research, soul searching, pleading, pouting and a little bit of emotional blackmail, I was able to convince my muffin that we were ready to become parents.
So on to Google I hopped and, in my travels, I was able to find the most perfect adoption site to suited our needs.
Phones were called, appointments were made, forms were filled and finally the day came when we had to travel to meet our potential child.
Leading up to the date I was so nervous.
I was having trouble sleeping.
I was thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
I had been let down previously and what if that were to happen again.
Muffin was his usual stoic self. He didn’t show much emotion and as excited as he claimed to be, it was hard to see through his cool, calm and collected exterior.
I was slowly falling to pieces with the stress of it.
I could hardly eat, hardly sleep, hardly concentrate...
Ok, I'm being just a little bit dramatic here.
But I was nervous about the whole thing.
Cookie was fantastic about the whole thing.
She kept me deliciously distracted the day before, and kept putting a positive spin on the whole thing.
She keeps me sane.
Much love for the cookie.

Finally the day arrived.
We had to leave early, as it would take us a good hour and a half to get to the small town out in the sticks where we were to meet our potential addition to our bakery.
I was worried about under dressing.
I was worried about over dressing.
Should I wear heels? Flats? Thongs?
Would jeans and a t-shirt be alright or should I wear long pants.
None of this showed, however, as Muffin and I went through our Sunday morning rituals of doing the washing and having breakfast together.
I was one cool cat, I can tell you that much.
Before we left, we called the adoption agency to confirm our appointment.
As I mentioned earlier, I had been disappointed previously and I was hoping to avoid a repeat of that occasion after having driven over 100 kilometres to get there. I would much rather the disappointment be in the comfort of our home.
Our contact woman was unavailable.
We left anyway.
The drive was nice.
It was an impeccable day.
The sun was shining.
The sky was blue.
The light breeze was positively glorious.
It was fantastic to spend the quality time with Muffin.
It doesn't happen nearly enough.

And so we arrived.
It was your typical small country down.
Anyone who has been to anywhere even slightly rural would recognise the town and the people.
The happy kind of people who smile at you in the street.
The kind of people who don’t look at you like you have a screw loose when you ask for directions, which we had to.
It was the kind of town with a population of 3,000 and about 2,500 of them are farmers.
It was quaint and pretty and the sort of place I would probably become more of a psychopath then Patrick Bateman if I lived there.
We were only 5 minutes or so late, which by my standards is positively early, but the woman was even more so.
She arrived about 20 minutes after the designated time for our appointment.
My Muffin and I sat outside, soaking up the sun and each other’s company and tried not to get too hopeful about the possibility that was facing us.
She arrived.
Out of the car she brought the most adorable little boy on the entire planet.
He is 4 years old and has big brown eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts.
It was instant chemistry as he walked up to me, a little bit shy, and we had our first meeting.
This soon progressed to a hug and, after Muffin saw me and realised that I quite possibly wouldn’t be able to let me him go, he agreed that this was the perfect child for us.
After filling in the appropriate paperwork and paying the adoption fee, we were able to hop back in the car and begin the long drive home with one extra passenger.

We had to stop by the Hen and Rooster's on the way home.
I say this like it is a nonchalant, easy thing to do, when, in fact, we had to drive past our house to get to theirs.
But things had to be collected for our new arrival.
Blankets, bedding, toys.
All things necessary when one adopts.
Also, I think The Hen just wanted to meet her new grandson.
I believe it was more that then anything else.
He was very timid at first.
He didn’t like being hugged or touch in general.
He was skittish as well.
Making sure that either Muffin or myself were in his sights the entire time.

We got him home and begun making him feel as welcome as we possibly could.
We set up his bed and took him on a tour of the house.
He was very uncertain.
He didn’t know where he could go and what he could do.
6 days, 10 hours, 35 minutes later, he is much better.
He has claimed the couch as his own and tried to adopt my granny blanket.
That was nipped in the bud and we bought him a blanket of his own.
It is hard during the day while us baked goods are out making a living, working, slowly killing ourselves, and we have to leave him home on his own.
But as yet he hasn’t gotten into any trouble.
I guess time will tell.
He is definitely a mummy's boy.
Right now he has fallen asleep next to me.
Even after such a short amount of time, he has become part of the family and there is much, much love.
Even if he did try to pluck a few feather from the Hen today.
But even with all of his eccentricities, he is and always will be, my Cream Puff.

Circumnavigation

Well it has finally happened.
It was an inevitability and a long time coming.
Many would argue that it is a pretty standard unit of time that has passed, others would say that it has seemed like a lot longer then some.
I haven't quite decided which school of thought I am supportive of just yet.
Cupcake has aged.
The world has turned, the seasons have changed, day has become night and night has, undoubtably, shifted into day.

They shouted it from roof tops, printed it on the front page of newspapers, posted it on facebook and sent numerous text messages regarding it.
'Cupcake celebrates her birthday!'
It was a quiet affair, nothing to glitzy or glamourous..
Just 200 of my closes friends, relatives and acquaintances..
Obama showed up of course..
But I said to him 'now my birthday isn't that important. Surely there are other things that you would rather do on a Sunday?'
But he insisted.
It just wasn't a party until his holiness showed up though. Now there is a pope who knows how to party!!

In all honesty though, I had a fantastic day!
Breakfast with the Hen and Rooster, the delightful Lollipop, their Japanese exchange student, Muffin and, of course, the fantastic and utterly delicious Cookie, best mate to this cupcake and maid of my honour.
We had all you can eat breakfast buffet.
My tummy hurt afterwards.
I ate all that I could.

After that gathering, the In-Laws converged on the bakery and much shenanigans ensued.
Well actually, the converging happened on Saturday night, but who is counting.
There was much merrymaking, more eating, much meat cooking and a small fire.
So it was a successful start to what I hope will be a new tradition.
That of BBQ Sunday!
The rundown was this.
We got home.
We made foods.
We cooked foods.
People drank beer.
We ate foods.
We made merry!
It was a complete and utter pleasure!

So the earth resumes its constant trek around the sun.
The seasons keep changing.
Day, night..
You get the picture.
I'm just glad that from now on, I get to celebrate each time the Earth circumnavigates the Sun with my muffin..


- This opinion was formed on Cupcakes iPhone

An Appointment.. One step closer to Doom

It really is amazing just how much one plans ahead.
I didn’t believe that I had thought overly much about the impending wedding and how I wanted it to look, to feel, to be...
But apparently, without even realising it, pieces of the puzzle have been falling into place.

Yesterday this Cupcake and her Muffin had an appointment.
It was one of those momentous occasions that every couple who plan on tying the proverbial knot have to endure.
One that I think most people find themselves dreading, no matter what they tell themselves.
It is an inevitability for a chained couple and something they just have to suck it up and deal with.
That’s right boys and girls, we went to visit a potential and 'talk' with their functions coordinator.
Now the word talk finds itself in inverted commas because, frankly, the coordinator and I chatted while Muffin sat there wishing he was somewhere else.
And not hiding it very well, the poor dear.

It was a very enlightening session and from the looks the woman kept giving me, I am apparently a lot more in touch with what I want then most women in my situation at the stage Muffin and I are at.
I know my colour theme, my cake, my centre pieces, the back up song I am going to walk down the aisle to if the Gingerbread Man and his band aren’t able to come up with one for me... This is our first preference...
Sorry...
OUR colour theme, OUR cake, OUR centre pieces, the back up song I am going to walk down the aisle to etc...
And I am more then willing to compromise.
I thought it would be cute, when celebrating the union of two baked goods, to decorate the table with live fish. The black googly eyed ones to be more specific.
But the Muffin doesn’t like the idea, so, rather graciously and humbly I might add, I let him have his way.
But in return I get sparkly diamantes on the table runners.
Give a little; get a little I always say!
(Mainly the reason is if the Muffin feels that he has these little victories, I am more likely to get the bigger things that I want)

I think one of the hardest things, when planning one's impending doom, is deciding on a place within which the doom shall be celebrated.
It has to suit the personality of the baked goods.
It has to be pretty, scenic, easily accessible and, most importantly, cheap.
Many trees donated their lives to our search.
Many brochures were printed; many more discarded as we crunched numbers and tried to find the perfect balance between locale, prettiness and costliness.
I feel that this location balances them, not perfectly, but more acceptably then many of the other places we have scouted.
Ideally, the perfect place would be free and we wouldn’t have to pay for anything at all and the food would be fantastic and everyone would be able to drink to their hearts content and it would just be brilliant!
Alas, that is how they do it in the fairytales.
Here in the real world, alcohol is expensive.

So here is the plan boys and girls, a month before the wedding, we are all going to jump on the wagon and become alcohol free.
Then all we have to provide and food and water.
Crust of bread should be fine shouldn’t it?

Viva Las Vegas

Sometimes I wonder what it all means.
Why we do what we do.
Why we think what we think.
Why we put up with all of the wonderful things that life throws at us.
Sometimes I wonder if we are super resilient...
... Or just dumb...
Frankly, given my past experiences, I am given to believe the latter.

There is a purpose to this seemingly mindless prattling, I promise.

The Muffin and I have been planning out our engagement party
And the logistics of the whole process has been wearing me down.
Where should we have it? How much will it cost? How many people should we invite? What time should we have it? How will the Melbournites I know and love travel up here? Where will they stay?
The invites thing is a bit like the Wedding Guest List Saga 2.0
If the Wedding Guest list Saga was Twilight, then the engagement Guest List Saga is Breaking Dawn.
That one that you really DON'T want to read, but some serious self loathing and compulsion demand that you continue turning the pages, one after the other, knowing full well that it is just going to bring you more pain the deeper you get into it.
But we have touched on that already.

All of the other life threatening questions can be answered with one, amazingly simplistic solution.
Have two engagement parties.
(I'm honestly glad I thought of it.. Coz it was definitely my idea, Not the Muffin's and definitely not the In-Laws..)
The original plan of having a party up here will stay in place. True, it will be filled mainly with the fellow baked goods of the muffin, his family and friends and Cupcake supporters will be in the minority, but I will soldier on, drink beer and make merry.
Plus I will get my own back with the other party, which will be primarily populated with the souls of the livi- I mean family and friends of the Cupcake.
Muffin and Muffin related articles will be in a serious minority at this picnic.

As with all good plans, things seem to go awry.
This goes along with any aspect of life. Whether it be baking, building, sleeping or designing.
This especially goes with picking a venue for the party to celebrating the concept of chaining ourselves to each other.
The original plan was to have one party, have it at the In-Laws, drink beer, eat meat and take part in the general ritual that is life.
But it was not to be so.
Having just one party would mean that too many people would be enjoying the festivities and space restrictions can be a real downer.
SO TWO IT IS!
The second party will take place in the fair state of Louisiana..
I mean Victoria.
The Scones have graciously agreed to host it (much to my relief).

Now, you have to be aware that all of this switching and changing and plans generally being messed around happened in the space of two stress filled hours..
After I had sent the invitations down to the Gingerbread Man to be Printed.
(Timing is great right?)
Why do I feel like I am the only doing the work for this sometimes?
I get it planned and then things get changed on me..
It really quite painful and makes for a not very happy cupcake..

This brings me back to my original prattle.
How much can one person take?
How much stress must they put themselves under before they say 'No! I've had enough, we're going to Vegas.."
Don’t think I haven’t been tempted...

As an afterthought, I feel I should explain something.
For those of your who have read the previous posts, I seem to be creating this world of Cupcake.
The Mother and Father of a Cupcake as a Hen and a Rooster (Because Cupcakes without eggs aren’t very tasty)
So naturally, siblings for a cupcake would have to be bakes goods also. Scones and gingerbread man, not just a tasty treat for all ages..

Memories are a funny thing..

There was this boy I knew in high school.

It wasn’t the later years, after I moved away and got my head straightened out into a less selfish version of what it once was.
It was when I was young.
Not entirely ready to come out of the oven yet.
I still had a bit to learn. A bit more cooking to be done.

He was the perfect boy for the 15 year old self that I was back then.
We liked the same music, the same movies.
He had that bad boy flair to him.
He had me skipping school and smoking behind the maths buildings.
Sneaking me a joint or two when we had the cash.
He was the type of boy that Mother Hen would have hated.
Which meant that I was head over heels in love with him.

It was, of course, doomed to fail.
First of all, he had a girlfriend.
This was before I was assertive enough to know what I want and to know how to get it.
Secondly, I was pretty sure that he didn’t like me in that way.
Looking back now, I know that we flirted.
Something terrible.
In fact, if flirting was a crime, the two of us would have received the death sentence.
Which is ironic because, as mentioned before, he had a girlfriend.

I would find myself thinking back to this boy. Wondering what he was doing. Who he was with. Where he was.
You know, all of the stuff you start thinking about when you forget that you are trying to deny that you are growing up.
(Which I'm not)

How often is it that we get to have a chance to have a sneak peek at the past.

This boy recently contacted me.
It was completely out of the blue and would could have knocked with a feather because I was so shocked.
We did the usual dance.
You know, asking how each other are, what we're doing, who we're doing, where we are and all that.
Then, much to my amusement, he started to take things to the next level.

Pause for a moment.
Just to let you know, I did point out that I was living with my Muffin and that we were practically engaged.
This event was pre-proposal.
Also, I kept Muffin completely up to date with the entire transaction.
There are no secrets between us.

He began asking more and more personal questions.
You know, of the sexual nature.
I was able to skirt around these for a while.
Changing the subject, blatantly ignoring the question, reminding him that I had my very own baked goods, but nothing seemed to deter him.
Finally, when I had enough of it, and he had asked a very inappropriate question, I informed him that it was just that, inappropriate.
Needless to say, I haven’t spoken with him since.

This seems to be a round about way to get to the actual point of what I am writing here.
My memory of this boy is fantastic.
He was the one who made my heart flutter.
Made me giggle like a... well something that giggles an awful lot.
I think I would have held on to that memory, forever.
Not in a bad, obsessive sort of way, but when I look back on my high school days and think of the people I knew he would be there.
Frozen in the memory that couldn’t be tainted.
Until he sends me a text message out of the blue and I come to realise that he has grown up into a sleazy guy who just thinking about makes my skin crawl.
I think back and wonder what would have happened if I didn’t relocate to a different bakery.
Meet other, like minded cupcakes like myself.
Finish baking and come out of the oven the tasty, worldly treat that I am today.
Most of all I wonder what my life would be like if I didn’t meet my muffin.
He is such a good influence on me and such a good thing to have in my life.
Would I be the person I am today?
I can guarantee that I wouldn’t be sitting here in the kitchen we share writing this blog.

I have to say, I am thankful for who I am.
It has been a long time coming, but I am finally happy with the person I have turned into.
I believe that a lot of that acceptance comes from finding the muffin for me.
Settling down and taking the time to realise that I can be whoever I want to be and that I like who I am.

Memories are a funny thing.
They twist and distort the truth of history.
But at least they are in the past.
I would rather have a happy memory then a sad future...

Trials and tribulations of the everyday Greeting card.

Here is the question I would like to pose to you. It has been something playing on my mind since the Muffin did the big P and took possession of my finger in the form of inserting a big shiny rock on it.
That question is, do you send Engagement Congratulations cards? Is it acceptable to NOT send engagement cards? Should this Cupcake consider investing in one for the Muffin to congratulate him on taking the plunge and getting down on both knees next to the bed..?
I know that is more then one question, but one kind of leads to the more. It is quite a serious business, that of the greeting cards.

Since announcing our pending doom to the world and Facebook, we have received three cards congratulating us on chaining ourselves to each other for eternity... or the foreseeable future, whichever comes first.
The first one came from my work. My boss was nice enough to buy me a pretty card and get everyone in the office to sign it.
I was so super excited that it went straight on the pin board at home, right on top of the accursed Telstra bill that never seems to go away.
The second came from The In-Laws. I thought it was very sweet of them to send us one (Although I would like to take this moment to say how incredibly unfair it is that Muffin's brother gets his name on the card when he doesn’t live at home, and the Rooster and the Hen insist that they don’t have to anymore because "I moved out so I have to send my own cards."). That ca rd took pride of place over the rates bill on the pin board.
The final one came from Muffin's grandmother. I can’t actually remember if I have ever met here, but still, I think that it is super sweet that she sent us one.
So three engagement cards from people.
His family at that.
The Hen will see to it that she sends a card to my Brother and Sister-In-Law for their first wedding anniversary, but she can’t do this? Is that an indicator that this tradition is becoming forgotten?

Which brings me back to my original question of is it plausible to send the cards?
Should the people who neglect to send them be shunned?
Frankly, I don’t think it would occur to me to send out a card to someone who found themselves in the same position as me and my muffin.
Perhaps I would do the all important Facebook message, but I am pretty sure that is as far as I would go.
Has society today become so impersonal that congratulations are limited to cyber space and rarely much else?
Or is it just impersonal enough that we have found a way to save on greeting cards, postage and sincerity?
Do you like what we have become? Automatons that rely on the internet to remind us of important events and to announce exciting news
I think I am going to send out Christmas cards this year...

Thoroughly Thoughtout Methodology

So much thought has gone into the origin of cupcake. More specifically, this Cupcake.
What do you reckon the parental units of a cupcake would be?
I don't think it would be the baker, because frankly, that thought is just a little bit too disturbing for my liking.
I think we should break it down a little bit further then that.
What is used in the making of cupcakes?
The baked goods that we all know and love.
The answer is simple really..
The basic ingredients are flour, eggs, sugar and milk.
I think, when referred to my parental units, they shall become the Rooster and the Hen.
Afterall, hens lay eggs, without which a cupcake would rarely survive, and roosters marry hens..
My barnyard logic is infallible!
I would have gone with milk, but I don't think my mother would react to kindly to being called a cow...

When considering a guest list for a wedding there are many things that a young Bridal Cupcake must take into account.
First, let it be known that actually compiling a guest list isn't that hard at all.
All one has to do is simply log onto facebook, find one of those stalker applications that counts how many times people have looked at, commented on and liked your past activities and invite the top 15 people on that list.
There, job done!
But if one were to work on that logic when actually compiling a list of guests, then their wedding budget would be more blown out then New Years Eve in New York city.
The true hard part with the whole guest list scenario, is deciding who to NOT invite.

Now you know as well as me that your second cousin's girlfriend's aunty isn't going to come, but you met her once briefly at the shopping centre while you were hiding behind the escalators praying to gods that your second cousin wouldn't see you. And when he did he came over and introduced his girlfriend and her aunty.
You hit it off, spoke maybe three words to each other and now you have this twisting feeling in the pit of your stomach that you have an obligation to invite her to celebrate your bake sale.
Let me stop you for a moment and tell you right now, you don't have to invite her.
If there is one thing this Cupcake has learnt in compiling her guest list with the Muffin, its that if you don't talk to them, then you don't have to invite them.
My side of the family is easy, you can count them on two hands..
You don't really even need to use your toes.
But the amount of aunties and uncle and cousins and miscellaneous others that he has on his side of the family is just nuts.
So we are going to have to be brutal.

Consider also, those childhood friends, without whom you would have stayed out of a lot more trouble, stayed sober once or two more times and, when pondering things such as weddings 10 years ago, swore that you would not even consider getting married unless the other was at your side.
The childhood friends you haven't spoken to in 9 years?
I'll let you figure that one out.

Now I must confess, I am having a slight issue with m- I mean OUR guest list.
We have about 60 too many people on it.
So we have decided to be brutal.

We have considered people and their travel arrangements, given that a lot of my guests will be travelling from Melbourne, and we have arrived at the decision that same will not be allowed a plus one.
It sounds harsh, yes, but realistically when you are paying $80 a head for someone to bring along a fling they found at the last minute, it just doesn't seem viable. So alas, that is one method we are employing to keep the numbers down... And the drunken hook-ups possible.

Another conclusion we have arrived at, although this one was slightly more difficult, because we know how some people will react, but we have decided to make it a child free zone.
I love spawn as much as the next baked good, but I cant say I love the idea of them being around people with that much alcohol. I think it is slightly irresponsible to allow a child to see their parents so drunk at such a young age..
That and if it were me, I would be bored out of my skull!!

The last method we have employed to keep down the numbers on our list of eternal doom, is culling.
I figure that there are too many people in the world anyway, so what's a few less?
They do it with kangaroos, why not my guests?
Cull a few of em off and I wont have to worry about inviting them along.
Realistically though, I have thought long and hard about it.
There are some people that I DO feel obliged to invite, I will just have to cross my fingers and hope that they cant make it. Those that I am umm-ing and ahh-ing about are another issue..
Maybe they should be the first to go in the Great Guestlist Culling..
Anyone know the number to a good, reliable assassin?
Maybe the in-laws can get the bill for this one...