The Rainy Days Peplum

It was Maia's birthday party yesterday and in my typical last-minute fashion I made the party bags the night before, the cake the morning of, and the outfit an hour before. Will I ever learn? Nope.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade; when life gives you relentless, soul-destroying weather, you make Rainy Days peplum tops.

Instead of hemming, I edged the flounce with the same knit binding as I used on the sleeve edges and neckline.  This gives the peplum a bit more body and ties the two prints together.  I kind of wish I'd inserted it in the waist seam as well but you can't be too ambitious sewing against the clock.

All in all, we succeeded in sending our message to the powers that be: you can freeze us, you can soak us, you can knock our bins over every week with your preternaturally strong winds, but we will make clothes about it and wear the sh*t out of them.

The party bags are simple drawstring bags in rainbow hues, french seamed throughout. Six year olds are so snobbish about seam finishes.  I made the labels in Picmonkey and printed them on my beloved address label printer.

Now that I've gotten the weather, the top, and the party bags out of the way let's not beat about the bush.  I know that some of you are here for the biannual cake wreck (looking at you, Juicy Tots).... Will it be tagged 'terrible baking'? Or 'not terrible baking'?

Behold the majesty of the freckles, the chin, the cheekbones, those catchlights.  I think we can agree that that is one skillfully-rendered Care Bear head.  Only two people thought it was a pig so I'm calling this a (relative) win.

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Where Dreams are made

Watch your back, food bloggers, I have a new oven.

A place where dreams* are made.

*If by dreams you mean bad dreams.

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One, Two, Three o'clock, Four o'clock... Crock

Once upon a time I used Pinterest merely to torment myself with the awesome things that people were making / owning / wearing / baking. Oh, and bookmark things that were inspiring and that I could maybe do one day. But mostly to organise my inadequacies into handy folders. Like...

If Only My Oven Worked

Let's face it, though, even if my oven did work I am probably more like to have this experience (also found on Pinterest and which made me laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh):


But then the Fairy Hobmother from Appliances Online read about my fecked-oven-ness over on Housewife Confidential (where I made a wish about having a working oven) and he made a wish of his own: for me to stop blaming the oven, the world and God for my cooking. So he bought me a slow-cooker. And so a new folder begins...

Crock of non-sh*t

Look closely and you will see...


Slow cookers can (allegedly) be used for baking! No excuses now, although I'm sure I'll do my level best.

The best thing for those of the altruist persuasion? The Fairy Hobmother just might visit a commenter on this post to make you stop whining too. Just leave your wish below.*

*I would imagine that wish fulfillment would apply only to people living in the UK. Not that I think he is personally racist (he's totally not), but logistically that makes sense. Wishes do not need to be of the appliance variety.

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Of Kitties and Cake Pops

I know I've posted about the birthday suit but what of the birthday baking? Long-term readers will know that I haven't had a functional oven in over a year but that does not appear to lessen my ambition for elaborate last-minute baking using other people's ovens. And often a backpack.

I set my sights high this year after finding out about the existence of Cake Pops (from Regretsy of all places) a couple of weeks ago. For those unfamiliar with Cake Pops, they are small yet adorable confections on a lollipop stick, made from crumbled cake, binded with icing, dipped in candy coating, and then decorated with sweets. That right: Sugar x 4. They are so sweet that the roof of your mouth itches while eating them. A good kind of itch.

Unfortunately, you can't stick candle in them so I also needed to bake a birthday cake for Maia and at least thirty of her closest friends and family. Falling somewhere between the realms of terrible baking and not terrible baking, a Hello Kitty cake was born. For the record: making your first attempt at piping, at 2AM, without proper icing bags is inadvisable.

It was, at least, recognisable as a fair representation of Hello Kitty by a jury of four year olds.

Note: I am actually 'wringing my hands' in this picture. Who thought that was just a figure of speech?

Alas, the last of the leftover icing was dispatched today. By myself with a spoon.

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Of liars, rockets, and pirates

Some of you might have seen on Twitter or Facebook that we had an inauspicious start to Jamie's fifth birthday. Despite ordering most of his gifts on Wednesday with a 'guaranteed' delivery of Friday (a service I pay heftily for through Amazon Prime), there was no delivery on Friday. One irate email later, Amazon customer service responded that City Link assured them that it was delivered and they had a name of a signatory to prove it. Steven and I wrapped up everything it the house that was vaguely gift-shaped so he'd have something to open in the morning (new trainers, a book with a duff battery left over from Christmas, and a t-shirt I made him the night before). Once City Link was open to speak to, I was able to confirm as suspected that it was not delivered and in fact in their depot 45 minutes away. Pretending to Amazon that it was delivered within the guaranteed timescale, and that [ficticious name] signed for it, was 'an error'. Steven took a two hour trip in the car to collect them. My correspondence back and forth with Amazon customer support has been an exercise in futility and escalating rage as they offer stock responses about their shipping procedures and nothing pertinent to my actual complaint. Anyway.... when it's your fifth birthday the show must go on!


For unbeknowest reasons, this birthday was All About Rockets. I wouldn't say that he's particularly interested in rockets in the day-to-day, but when asked what kind of cake he wanted: A Rocket.


This is the cake arrangement in all its horror glory. I used the same book as Maia's mermaid cake as inspiration, and the moon was my own personal solution to the ridicilously over the top cake yield. To back up this statement, only the moon was consumed by five kids and three adults. We will be eating the rocket and stars for days to come.

Stated gift desires also included rockets. This might actually be the best gift under a tenner we've ever bought. You stomp on the pump....


The rocket goes shooting high into the beautiful Edinburgh sky:


And you're so happy you look like a supermodel:


But the main present that we got for Jamie was a couple of Lego Pirate sets.


For a long time we've mainly had toys that were pitched at their age level (or below because I've been remiss about farming out old toys). But Jamie is so into technical toys, and actually really skilled at assembling, that despite these sets being pitched at six to twelve year olds he was able to follow the picture instructions with just a bit of guidance.


He loves them and I think they will really help his imagination and free play a lot. Despite the ordeal of non-delivery and collection, they were probably worth the wait.


I'm boggling that I have a five year old. Is it just me, or does that seem so much older than four?

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The final word on birthdays

Thank you all for your birthday wishes and messages about the outfit and the cake! There were quite a few questions in the comments though, so rather than answer them somewhere you might not see, here we go then...


Both the top and the skirt were made. The twirly tutu skirt I will definitely write a tute for. Maia's little friend Elsie is having a birthday next week and a skirt has been requested so I'll write and photo it up then. The top was the same self-drafted pattern that I used for their Halloween skeleton outfits, but the neckbinding was fatter and sewn to the inside and then flipped over and tacked down. The bow was a result of much staring and hand-wringing; I wanted to do something ruffley but I couldn't decide how so the bow was a compromise. The dotty cuffs were to tie the design together and also because of the broken iron I would have had difficulty hemming it.

Lynn asked what my beef was with integrated Barbie cakes? Nothing at all, my friend. 'Cept these were the ones Maia wanted:

Three dimensional ballerina cake with stage. Yeah.

Paddling pool with dolls sitting in jello/ jelly. Okay.

Dolls bouncing on the trampoline and waiting their turn. Seriously.

And many of you pointed out my mermaid was an amputee. Not so, haters. To add to the educational value of the cake she is like a classical bust. By making this cake we were able to initiate a robust dialectic about the mythological origin of mermaids and the stonemanship of the classical and Roman eras. Either that or I couldn't find the niche Australian biscuits referenced in the book:

Who likes Spot the Difference games? Everyone, that's who. Other notable differences include me using sprinkled white buttons instead of mint leaves for the scales. Mint leaves would be gross. Also gross? The book called for me to deep fry vermicelli for the hair thereby tainting her whole head with yucky. No thanks to the oily pasta head, I'll use sour strawberry straws because they're divine and the kids don't like them so I don't have to share. Third attempt by the Australian Women's Weekly to render the cake inedible? Using actual shells for the bikini. Beyond being impossible to find at short notice, I would have to boil them for six years before I'd put them on a cake. So yes, Pickled Weasal, they're shortbread.

Any other questions? About anything?

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The mythological diabetic death cake

Yes, I know you might come here to see the clothes. But when it's birthday time, let's face it: you're here to indulge your baking schadenfreude. I am never less aspirational than when I bastardise cakes. If you're new, you might want to check out the Bell's Palsy Jaundice Super Why, the volcanic Fifi, a cake interpretation of when Peppa Pig gets Leprosy, and the Thomas the Tank by way of ironic Surrealism. This time I had expertise on my side with the acquisition of this book on outlandish cakes:


But I also had dire baking skills, and our lack of functioning oven working against me. Never one to back down from a challenge, I set off on the bus on Wednesday night with a backpack of ingredients to my in-laws to use their oven. After the batter was mixed, I realised that there were not enough cake pans there (or perhaps anywhere in the whole world) to bake the requisite pieces for my cakey tour de force and I was forced to pour batter into everything with a base and sides. Be thankful they don't have any aluminum dog bowls. And then I had the realisation that I needed to bring all these cakes back to our house in a backpack, so I had to cut those 45 cakes into 45000 smaller cakes and precariously stack them into said backpack. Like cake Jenga. Fast forward a day and the assembly and decoration loomed. Once I checked out the outline template, it was clear that the final cake would be enough to feed at least 100 people, so big in fact I had to cut up a gigantic cardboard box to use as a cakeboard. Gallons of buttercream frosting covered all the Frankensteined joins between pieces, acres of sweets and candies sat atop the frosting as decoration. Be very afraid, diabetics:

It's a mermaid. Clearly.

To appreciate the sheer size of it, look how I have to hold it with two hands. I almost couldn't get it through the doorways.

We've only eaten the bottom right adjunct of the tail so far.


Maia had her heart set on one of cakes that utilised integrated Barbies to recreate girly ecstasy, but I talked her round to the mermaid. They were rather impressed if I do say so myself.

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Look, I can do classy!

Today was Jamie's first proper birthday party, outside of the home, with non-relations. It was held at a soft play centre called 'The Inferno' (known locally as 'Clown Around'). We knew it was a tough kinda place when we saw this sign in the parking lot:


Oh no, please don't give me a sticker! But... eleven toddlers, two hours. Tough gig. It went fine though, I'm hardly traumatised.


Jamie blew out his candles on his classy cake (you know I had it in me to be subtle):


And was generally pleased with himself.


And Maia looked vaguely menacing, just like any other day:

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Let them eat cake. And by them, I mean me.

Way back in early July, I saw that delectation on Amy Lane's blog. Think it's just a cupcake? Oh, no, no, no... It actually a giant cake, made to look like a cupcake by skill and witchcraft. And, it's chocolate mint flavour. If I was to go to sleep, and dream of cupcakes, they would be chocolate mint flavour. I haven't been able to get these cupcakes out of my mind for months. So what's a girl to do? Well, I started stalking following her on Twitter. And then I started pestering her. But as she lives in Southampton and me in Edinburgh, I couldn't get my mitts on her cupcakes. I cried myself to sleep nightly. But then something alarming happened. People started taunting me:



I couldn't take it anymore:


Lucky for me, she's a multi-talented lady and sews too so I suggested I swap a pattern for cupcakes. Guess who was the winner in that swap? Me!


Now these cupcakes are so yummy that Amy deserves national (if not international) fame and celebration but she's struggling to find a courier that doesn't abuse them. Anyone got any recommendations for her? I'm thinking that if I can pass on all your helpful comments, she'll send me some more.

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The promise of cupcakes

Probably a lot of you know about Covetables, but if not, you really should! I first came across her on Folksy through her adorable sewn creations. This is my favourite:

Not only is she an amazing sewer and maker, but also a professional baker. Ever since I saw the lovely cupcakes on her blog, I've been salivating over them. Nothing conjures up happy nostalgic memories more than cupcakes! And then she kindly shared a recipe for chocolate cupcakes, and I've been determined to make them. So yesterday I promised Jamie that we would make them together over the weekend, and he harrassed me relentlessly until I capitulated. The recipe looked really easy so I was confident we couldn't screw it up with my terrible baking skills.

After the 36 hour build-up to cupcake making, Jamie helped for a bit, then got bored and left me to it.

Here are Steven and Jamie 'patiently' waiting for them to cool down enough to eat.

See how that smile looks a bit demented? 'I would like cupcake' was chanted more than six hundred times until my ears started bleeding and I fainted from the stress of it.

In a shocking turn of events, I resisted the urge to bastardise cartoon characters, so its probably the most sophisticated baking I've ever done. Don't they look pretty?! And I got to use an icing plunger thingy, I feel like a proper grown up.

Maia was chuffed when she woke up from her nap and was immediately handed a cupcake. Not normal practise and a pretty bad precedent, I admit... But Jamie was an hour into his second round of torture with 'I would like another one cupcake' and I had stupidly said he could have another one when Maia woke up. More fool me...

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