great expectations

On Saturday, in preparation for Easter, I broke out Annika's "Little Dutch Cookbook" and decided to make the traditional Easter Ring Cake, adorned with spring crocus and served alongside a generous dollop of whipped cream.

The picture in the book looks like this:

I thought I followed the recipe closely, 

but mine came out like this

(it tasted even worse that it looks):

Things don't always turn out the way you expect. 

When I was a young woman, I had a lot of opinions and I liked to say them to anyone who would listen. One of my stronger proclamations detailed how I would never, ever be stuck in my home, "barefoot and pregnant," while my husband gallivanted off to work. I would be a spectacular mother with well-adjusted children, a happy partner and an impressive career. 

By the time we had our first child, I was 31 years old with a nice job but no stellar career in sight. I still wanted to work, though. So I packed my lunch and my tiny baby boy in the car, took him along for the hour commute and left him at daycare or with his grandma, depending on the day. Then I wasted the whole day at work, crying because I missed him and sneaking off to the bathroom to pump breast milk. When we all finally straggled back home around 6:30 p.m., David and I would look at each other forlornly and wonder aloud, "Who is going to take care of us?" After a few miserable months, it became clear that the "who" we needed was going to be me. I quit my job and had the best year of my life.

Over the last 12 years as a stay-at-home mom, I have wrestled with my choice over and over, giving lots of credence to the scraping, scratching feeling that I was never doing enough, not living up to my potential. I enjoyed and appreciated my kids immensely but still always felt I was not sufficient to the task. In the early 2000's, whenever I got together with my friend, Mary R., I was klunked over the head by her graceful, very real enjoyment in being at home with her two kids. I yearned for that same peace regarding my own choice. Mary recently returned to the workforce and she seems to find great pleasure in that, too. Go figure.

As I reach my mid-40's with two kids well into school and a little one still at home, I have finally  accepted that my lucky life is the result of some very good choices. Now that I am learning how to take care of myself as well as the rest of the family, I can see that I'm not so bad after all, and I have been able to give myself wholeheartedly to the mom life.  It is as difficult and as rewarding as any other career I might have built. Things change every day. I still hope to do something exciting of my own when Oliver starts kindergarten in the fall. For now, even though my "cake" didn't turn out at all like the one in the picture, it is, nevertheless, infinitely more delicious.