diaper cakes and stories.

I have to admit that I really like making things for others.

Especially when it comes to people I care about.

And my lovely friends Lindsay and Collin are having a baby, so…

I got in my car and headed to Michael’s one day. And since I am confessing here, I might as well also admit that I love that place. Just walking down the ribbon aisle was thrilling. Ooh, and picking out the paint brushes–and the colors of paint to use. It was as good as the peanut butter smoothie I had tonight, and that’s saying something.

But all this to say, I had decided I was gonna make my friends a cake. But not what you would call a delicious cake, per se–a diaper cake. Although, it turned out to require so very many rubber bands that I should maybe just refer to it as a rubber band cake–along with a few other festive articles and oh yeah, some diapers, too.

But anyway, my mom helped me construct the actual thing–and she crafted the bow on top. My sister tried to tape one letter onto the cake, but unfortunately had gotten stuck with the cheap tape, so it didn’t stick. Literally. But she gets an A for effort, anyway. And I get a major fail since I was the one who handed her the sub parr tape to begin with.

But here are the pictures. And in case you are not a fan of rubber band cake pictures, I will also entertain you with a short story between images.

Tonight I was doing the usual. Scaling this barricade that my parents’ have constructed on the porch in order to keep our behemoth dogs from escaping. Only, it kind of keeps people from escaping too. Or getting in, for that matter.

But I am pretty good at getting over it by now. I’ve even done it while carrying a very heavy keyboard, so yeah, you could say I’m a veteran.

But even the veterans get hit sometimes, you know.

See, I had already hoisted one leg over the barricade and was working on getting the other over, too–all while carrying on a conversation with both my parents. Both because I said hello and they each thought I was talking to them. Only my pop was upstairs in his room and so was yelling to me through the window while my mom was over in the yard walking the dogs and so was yelling to me through the darkness.

Anyway.

My fatal flaw was the ladder that was leaning on its side, against the barricade. Because as I stepped one leg down, my foot got caught between the slats and it was too late to do anything about it because my other leg was already up in the air and so, yes, you guessed it, I fell down. All of my weight landed on both my knees with a glorious crash and I don’t remember how, but somehow my calf muscle was pulled in the process.

I was terribly annoyed at everything by that point. Even at my parents for yelling from their respective places, asking if I was okay. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t even scream.

Well, I think I did announce that the barricade was stupid.

Stupid being my expletive of choice most of the time. Believe me, I’ve called past decisions I’ve made and sacred ceremonies–one in particular that I’ve taken part in–stupid more than once.

But I got up and limped inside and immediately laid face down on the couch, just as grumpy as all get out, as my mom would say.

Both my parents came running–one from upstairs, and one from outside–and proceeded to make sure nothing was broken or bleeding.

Nothing was, but I do have some nasty bruises and well–that stupid pulled calf muscle.

And then I might even have upped the expletive to hate cause I think I told my pop I hate that ladder that rests against the barricade.

Ladders aren’t people so I can hate them. And I can certainly hate stupid ones, that’s for darn sure.

And then my mom got me ice and put it on my knees. She also got me advil and handed it to me so I could put it in my mouth. And then I finally started laughing because I fell so hard and called a couple of inanimate objects stupid.

As if there are many other barricades I know of that are smart and if only this had been one of them, perhaps I wouldn’t have fallen, then.

And now my legs are a bit worse for the wear and I suppose I will have to start being what others call careful when scaling that barricade.
Or perhaps someday my parents can get a ladder that isn’t so hateful and a barricade that isn’t so stupid.

And oh, I hope you enjoyed the pictures of the diaper rubber band cake.