{"id":241,"date":"2012-11-01T12:00:50","date_gmt":"2012-11-01T17:00:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/larakrupicka.com\/?p=241"},"modified":"2012-11-01T16:08:56","modified_gmt":"2012-11-01T21:08:56","slug":"why-do-i-do-this","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/larakrupicka.com\/staging\/6885\/2012\/11\/01\/why-do-i-do-this\/","title":{"rendered":"Why Do I Do This?"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Black<\/a>
I made these cat pops for my daughter’s ninth birthday this year. See the end of the post for where you can learn how to make them too.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Three times a year I put myself through the finger-numbing task of creating and decorating my daughters\u2019 birthday cakes and treats. It\u2019s often a four- or five-hour process, during which my shoulders cramp up high around my ears as I hunch over my masterpiece. My tembles throb from the effort of concentration. And my hands spasm from overexertion. At about the three-quarters mark toward completing the task, when the aches and exhaustion rise to a fever-pitch, I question myself. <\/em><\/p>\n

Why am I doing this?<\/em> I think.<\/p>\n

But I press on, piping row after row of buttercream stars or painstakingly dipping cake ball after cake ball in melted candy drops. My hands shake and the work becomes sloppy. I stop to rest, get a drink, massage my wrists.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do I do this?\u201d I ask, this time aloud. One of my daughters is passing through the kitchen and has stopped to admire my work.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know you say that every year,\u201d she says. \u201cSo why do you do it if it bothers you so much?\u201d<\/p>\n

I pause, fingers locking back into their tight grip around the frosting bag. I swipe my free fingers through some dripped buttercream on the countertop and savor the sweetness as I think.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t bother me so much\u2026\u201d I say, my voice trailing off as I ponder the reasons for putting myself through the agony of the cake-decorating process.<\/p>\n

My daughter raises an eyebrow. She\u2019s overheard my mumbled grousing during the past hour as I\u2019ve frosted and re-frosted one section of cake.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I say, answering her look. \u201cIt can be a pain. But it\u2019s so worth it. I can\u2019t imagine making you a plain cake or paying someone else to do it when I know how. It\u2019s a way for me to show my love to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just then her younger sister sweeps into the kitchen and stops to look at her cake.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo away,\u201d the elder says, shooing her from the room. \u201cIt\u2019s supposed to be a surprise. For later. At your party.\u201d She looks conspiratorily over her shoulder at me.<\/p>\n

I shift my body around the kitchen island to shield the view of the cake as I work.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s right,\u201d I call out to my departing child. \u201cDon\u2019t look until it\u2019s done.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turn back to the cake. It does look remarkable. All those little pointed stars crammed close together, hiding the cake beneath. Only a small square of velvety-brown cake remains visible. Almost done. It\u2019s then I feel it \u2013 that rush of excitement over seeing the work come together. It will be\u2026 well, not breath-taking exactly. But it will be special.<\/p>\n

And maybe that\u2019s why I do it. Because all those little stars and all those hours of cramped fingers come together into something that reflects what the recipient is to me: special.<\/p>\n

In fact, it\u2019s why, as parents, we get up in the middle of the night for feedings and fevers. It\u2019s why we sit on damp, chilly soccer fields, while our kids chase down the ball. It\u2019s why, late at night in a dim living room, dozing upright in a hard chair, we wait for our teenager to return home.<\/p>\n

Our kids are precious to us. And because of that they inspire us to take on tasks and chores and obligations that sometimes make us wonder what we were thinking.<\/span> And I believe that the occasional sacrifice involved in parenting communicates a unique message of value to our kids. \u201cYou are worth this,\u201d it says.<\/p>\n

Why do I do this? Because my children matter to me. They\u2019re worth the sleepless nights and chilled noses. They\u2019re worth anxious waiting. They are worth hours of sore knuckles and stiff shoulders.<\/p>\n

Why do I do this? Because I’m a mom whose knack at cake-decorating allows her to show her girls love in a unique way.<\/p>\n

For instructions on how to make the cake pops pictured above check out Bakerella’<\/a>s book, Cake Pops<\/a><\/em>.<\/p>\n

So tell me, dear reader, what is it that you keep doing for your kids even when you ask yourself why?<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Three times a year I put myself through the finger-numbing task of creating and decorating my daughters\u2019 birthday cakes and treats. It\u2019s often a four- or five-hour process, during which my shoulders cramp up high around my ears as I hunch over my masterpiece. My tembles throb from the effort of concentration. And my hands…<\/p>\n

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