another year, another cake

My German turned a year older yesterday. I baked a cake. It was a disaster. He unpacked his present. He loved it. I clapped my hands at how clever I am. We drank far too much wine with dinner and even more after. He was late for work this morning. But we tried to celebrate without too much hoo-hah since we’re doing it all again with friends on the weekend.

Being a summer child, my birthday always falls into the deep hole that is summer vacation. Growing up, this inevitably meant that my birthdays were never celebrated with friends – all were off on holidays – but always with family. So no birthday parties. So unlike my brother who is a happy March baby with plenty of birthday parties under his belt. Party hats and ponies aside, there is an art to celebrating a birthday when there is no party. In our family we have a little tradition that no birthday is without. The birthday breakfast.

We eat cake for breakfast and there are presents to unpack. There is a candle. And the cake is always surrounded with flowers. This has been the way we do it in our family for as long as I can remember. Once breakfast is over, the day is spent the way any other is spent. Those who have to go to work do. Laundry is done. TV is watched. Everyone gets on with their day. If we’re all together in the evening, then we celebrate a bit more at dinner. But it is always breakfast that marks the birthday.

Now that our family is scattered in different directions these kinds of birthday breakfasts are few and far between. But I know that whenever my parents celebrate a birthday, there is cake for breakfast, flowers around the cake, and a candle on the table. We usually get sent a picture as proof. I have tried explaining this little tradition to my German. He didn’t quite get it the first time we spent my birthday together without my family. I ended up with no cake. For breakfast or otherwise. The flowers were in a jar. And there was no candle. And my present came unwrapped. Not to be ungrateful or anything, but once I’d thanked him for my present I couldn’t do much more but complain. How it wasn’t the same. About the lack of a cake. About the flowers. About the candle. About everything really. Especially about not being able to unwrap my present since it lacked the wrapping. Not even a bow. How it couldn’t be my birthday without all these things. I can’t imagine what he must have been thinking about me in that moment. Definitely nothing good. But I apologised profusely once I came to my senses and was forgiven for being such a beast. Now that he has taken part in a few birthday breakfasts over the years, he’s come to understand what it means.

So, for his birthday we had breakfast. Of sorts. He didn’t get home from work until midday and he’d already had a non-cake breakfast. And like I said, the cake was a disaster so I won’t be putting the recipe in until I’ve figured out how it all went so horribly wrong. His present was too large to be wrapped, but there was a bow and it came in its own bag. There were flowers, a candle, and a bow to undo. Still the best way to kick off a brand new year. The smile on his face proved it.