I was shamed for making my daughter’s birthday cake

“Oh, honey, I had a feeling that was the case. It’s a super cute try.”

Each year on my birthday, my mum would pull out the Women’s Weekly Children’s Birthday Cake recipe book and let me choose which one I wanted.

I had the typewriter on my seventh birthday, the Barbie with the fluffy marshmallow skirt on my sixth (and eighth) birthday and a couple of number cakes in the mix too.

The cakes weren’t perfect. If anything, they were far from it, and I still loved them then, and I love them even more now.

I decided to honour this tradition and make my daughter’s birthday cakes, too.

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A classic in the home of every 90's kid! Source: Booktopia

Practice makes perfect

Feeling the pressure of the incredible birthday cakes I saw on Instagram of fellow mum friends who decided to outsource the task, I wanted to ensure my daughter’s cake looked as best as possible.

I made four practice cakes in the lead-up and went through nearly four kilos of butter and a lot of eggs, and there was a running joke in the office as to how many trial cakes I was up to.

I’ll admit the first few attempts weren’t great, but I was really proud and excited by the fourth one.

I made cupcakes to sit alongside the cake and decorated them with the same frosting and sprinkles.

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I'll admit I didn't start off too strong.

“It’s a super cute try”

After singing Happy Birthday and helping my little one blow out the candle (and by help, I mean my husband and I said ‘blow’ three times before remembering she’s one and had no idea what we were talking about), I was approached by my friend’s wife with a loaded question.

“Where did you get the cake from?” she inquired.

“I made it,” I proudly replied with a dumb smile on my face.

“Oh, Honey, I had a feeling that was the case. It’s a super cute try.”

I was kind of taken aback by the comment, but I thought I was reading too much into it and it wasn’t passive-aggressive, I replied with a sheepish “thank you” and began serving it to the guests.

Then she slid into my DM’s after the party.

“Sorry if I offended you”

I’m known for having a terrible poker face, so perhaps my expression to her comment revealed more than my reply, as after the party, she sent me a DM.

“Hi Huni,” she started. 

“Thanks for having us today…Sorry if i offended you with my cake comment. I’m just not used to seeing homemade cakes these days. Catch up with you at XX’s party xo”

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Her message made me think she was feeling a little guilty.

Overly sensitive or justified?

I wouldn’t have thought too much more about her comment, but her subsequent message made me think she was feeling guilty for the bitchy comment.

I know the cake wasn’t perfect, but I worked hard on it (I had to ice it in the fridge because the day before, it was 42 degrees, and the icing kept melting!), and she didn’t need to say anything.

My friend’s wife is known to have very different tastes from me, and I wouldn’t say we’d be friends if it weren’t for her marital status. There’s nothing wrong with wanting fancier things, but that’s just not me.

At the end of the day, if I wanted an Instagrammable cake, I would have paid someone to make it.

But that’s not the point of the exercise, and I know when I look back at photos, I can (still) proudly claim the cake as my own.

Originally published as I was shamed for making my daughter’s birthday cake