Creating is a work of art

I miss making cakes.

I miss stirring up the batter and sloppily scraping the bowl, preserving a generous amount of bowl lickings for myself.  I miss the mystery of not knowing how exactly the cake will rise or fall and the challenge that accompanies trying to fix it.  I miss mixing batches of white fondant and kneading in color until my hands and the dough are tinted to my satisfaction.  There is a joy that comes with a smooth crumb coat and pride that forms with the perfection of the fondant draped delicately atop my cake.  The challenge and creativity of design satisfy something deep inside. . . the need to create something original.  Something beautiful.  I miss all of it.

But I'm creating a person now and it requires much more time and energy and commitment than cake.  Yet, I still desire the outcome to be beautiful.  I've heard repeatedly that your own children will always be the cutest to you.  And I believe that.  But I've met women who post pictures of their little darling or hold them up for you to look upon the face they incubated for nine months, and they say, "Aren't they the cutest?"  Sometimes they are, which inspires most women to reply, "Oh, she/he is adorable!  What a cute baby!  So beautiful."  And the list of wonderful googliness goes on and on.  But occasionally you are shown a baby that is not, (how shall I put this?), very pleasing to the eye.  When asked what you think of this baby you may find yourself saying, "She/he is so. .  special and. . . precious!"

Precious doesn't always mean unsightly, but when accompanied by a 'special' or 'bless her heart' it's time to be worried.  You have just birthed an ugly baby.

I am afraid.  I don't want to be one of these poor women who brag and showcase their little piece of "eye candy" while everyone tiptoes around subject as to keep any postpartum monsters at bay.

Paul and I were cute little kids.  Why am I so worried?

I will show you.  On a rather boring day off last fall I sat at my mom's house in front of her computer.  She was in the shower and I needed amusement so I ventured toward the Photoshop icon on the start menu.  Everything started off so innocently.  I wonder what my future kids will look like?  I searched though our reception display pictures and found two that should be easy enough to blend.  That is where it started to get ugly.

And I mean really ugly.

Meet Dorris

And Sally

Agatha

Harry

Bill

Larry

Ahhhh!  Perhaps we should have adopted. . .