Surviving Meringue

Actually, the meringue was the easy part.  Surviving my children, on the other hand, was the not so easy part.  It was my hubby's birthday yesterday.  In my mind's eye I had a perfect day all planned out.  The gist: when he got home, the living room and kitchen would be completely tidy, supper (chicken pot pie) would either be in the oven or just out, the computer would be off the table and the table would have a table cloth and be set with our nice dishes, the girls would be dressed in some nice clothes with their hair brushed and possibly even curled, I myself would have showered and blowdryed my hair.  We would eat a nice meal together and then the girls would give him the cards they had made earlier in the day, along with the present, I would give him my card (he got his present from me in the summer) and then I would unveil the cake I had made.

I have been planning for a couple weeks now to try a new recipe for a Coconut Cream Meringue cake.  It was a three layer cake, with a browned meringue icing.  I made the cake around lunchtime yesterday, and had the layers on my wire rack cooling.  I then went into my bedroom to fold some laundry.  After awhile I realized that it had been fairly quiet in the house, so I went to check on my girls.  Leigh was playing fine in the room, but I found Abby on a chair pulled up to the freezer above the fridge, eating a chocolate bar I had frozen in there.  I gave her a scolding, and took her down.  But when I closed the freezer door, I saw my cake layers on the counter.  All three with big gouges taken out of them. 

I lost it.  Poor Abby had no chance.  She was exiled to her room until Mama was calm and rational enough to be nice again.  And that wasn't anytime soon.  Even when I finally let her out, I don't think I was over it.  The thing was, this cake was a little bit of work, so I might have had time to make another, but it would have pushed some other things off the list.  Also, it takes a lot of eggs, and I didn't have enough left. 

Mark ended up coming home early since him and his co-workers had a funeral to attend.  The house wasn't ready or decorated or anything at all when he got home, but I could get over that.  I was happy he came because it meant I could run to the grocery store for sugar because I ran out. 

Supper ended up being later, 6, though I guess it was actually at regular time, it just felt late because he was home at 5.  The table was not set with our nice dishes, there was no table cloth.  The girls were still in their random-clothes-thrown-on-in-the-morning-that-don't-match-at-all clothes.  I was at least in semi-clean jeans (ususally during the day I can be found in some kind of leisure pant) and a nice t-shirt.  I hadn't showered, and the girls didn't have their hair brushed.

I had prepared the meringue before we ate, but waited until after to ice the cake.  The meringue had actually turned out fairly well.  I waws glad because they can be finicky and I was worried it would flop.  Well I iced the cake, and the cake actually looked much better iced.  It hid all the holes and crumbling.  But I went to try my torch, and the lighter was empty.  And do  you think that any of the other lighters we had in the house would fit in the torch?  Of course not!  So I run out to 7-11 and pick up two more to try.  No such luck.  Mark even went out to find some and his didn't fit either.  So my browned meringue was not browned. 

I was soooooo disappointed.  I had worked hard all day and nothing seemed to work.  I think the only plan that materialized was that the living room was tidied.  The kitchen I tried to keep up on but I had run the dishwasher three times and still had dishes to wash.  Chicken Pot Pie takes a lot of pots.  I had washed my stand mixer bowl at least a couple times during the making of the cake as well.  All this work and things still didn't turn out how I wanted them to.  But I guess that is how life goes, right?  We can't count on anything, especially when we have little kids? 

I had wanted to make Mark's birthday special so he would know how special he was to us.  And he told me that night that his favourite part was when Abby gave him his cards and gift.  She gave him a kiss and a hug, and then another kiss.  Without either of us coaxing her.  It definitly was a special time, and I will have to make sure that that is what I remember.