I'm part of a group on Facebook where parenting issues are discussed, ideas are exchanged, knowledge is imparted to the lesser-experienced parents and so on. Quite a few interesting discussions come up and I find myself jumping into the dialogues with enthusiasm, or when something troubles me, i react with an opinion or two of my own. All in all, it is a place where new parents can feel secure in the knowledge that they're not the only ones walking through life half-asleep.
Today an interesting discussion caught my eye; it resonated with my own experiences in motherhood and i followed it with interest. Here was a young mother coping with all the mayhem of nurturing a newborn - she posted on the group that she was tired, sleepy and depressed most of the time. In her words, I saw a cry for help (of the counselling kind), while some other mothers responded with well-meaning advice - asking her to carve time out for herself, pursuing a hobby, going for a yoga class, handing over care of the baby to the husband once in a while, 'doing something that generated a personal income ' and also getting professional help for her depression.
There were more than 50 responses for this young mother, and while i was jumping up and down, anxious in the knowledge that this lady needed counselling and nothing else, i also happened to notice some mothers, especially the 'stay at home' ones sharing their own ways of coping with 'post baby blues'. Some had learnt knitting, one lady took 'hairdressing lessons' at a local parlour (how cool is that!), some took up organising the house with maniacal vengeance and others still, learnt the fine art of baking.
And that brings me to strawberry cake. Today, i made one. It's like this; every once in a while, the overwhelming desire to have control over something, even if it is the quantum of baking powder and sugar, takes over me and i head to the kitchen - my little kingdom where cakes rise like they're supposed to, ovens 'ping' on time like a neat little bow on the project, and for once, you can see the glorious outcome of your many little decisions. In all, its a fantastical little world that you can create all by yourself and actually eat. Nothing like parenthood at all (not the eating part, of course!).
(This would also be a good time to mention that your 'bun in the oven', once its out, is mostly nothing like they show you in J&J ads.)
I've heard some women say that they bake to de-stress, some bake to retain and nurture that little core they call 'just me', some bake to believe that they are changing the world, one glorious piece of chocolate cake at a time, some bake to say 'i may not be at 'work', but i'm sure as hell still working, some bake to stop a tantrum (in its mouth), some bake for some 'me time' by the cosy little oven and some bake to fill childhoods with yummy smells of baking. And yet some bake to tell the world 'i did a project today and it's called a cake'.
So, I made a cake today. It's a strawberry cake. And it had a start and a pretty d*** good finish; it got eaten as soon as it came out of the oven. Tomorrow i might make it with blueberries. Or not. Because sometimes i bake just because i like to bake.
And for all you good people who read this post to the end, here's the recipe to a wonderful strawberry cake infused with mint and vanilla:
