Cake

18th August, 2018


It's official: Isaac weighs 21 pounds. That's a whopping stone and a half. That's about half a stone more than Grace was when she was a year old and he's not even 10 months yet.





So I'm a bit confused about why the baby weight hasn't dropped off a bit more quickly, given that I usually go for walks with him in my carrier, whilst pushing Grace in her buggy - and she is pretty heavy too now. You'd think I'd be shedding those pounds. And last time I remember losing the baby weight much more quickly. In fact, through the magic of breastfeeding, I actually went to less than my pre-pregnancy weight. And that was no mean feat, given that I gained rather a lot in that pregnancy. And you know what? I was so happy with that weight. And I only realised then, with hindsight, how the weight gain had really got me down. And I determined not to gain like that again. And then I became pregnant.


And guess what?


But then it's true what my mum told me: whatever you bake, you eat. And this week, after procrastinating for about 13 years about baking, I thought 'enough is enough' and I'm really going to start baking with Grace. She requested a chocolate cake, but since the shop down the road didn't sell cocoa powder, we had to settle for a plain sponge with a melted Galaxy bar topping. I couldn't even add a drop of the Bourbon Vanilla essence I had bought so long ago (it's been a l-o-n-g time that I've been flirting with the idea of getting into baking) because it was Best Before some month in 2014.

So for the past week this cake has been sitting in its tin, with its lovely chocolate topping. And I've known it's there. And even though I gave a couple of slices to friends and one to my sister-in-law (much deserved, since she's just had a baby) and a few small ones to Grace, there was still enough to have at least one slice a day for about five days. And so it was.


Actually, when I look back, I can see how it affected my mood. Those cake-induced sugar surges gave me the inevitable crashes and I'm sure made me even more tired and grumpy than usual.


So what to do? I do want to bake, I do. And Gracie is so sweet in her little apron standing on the step next to me at the food mixer (even if she is getting flour everywhere) and it feels so homely. And I like homely things. But I think I'm going to have to find some recipes that involve less sugar and less butter somehow. Or it'll be my weight, not Isaac's, that starts to rise rapidly.





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