Following rules. For some it's encouraging, for others, oppressive. I was a teacher in a public school before I had the kids I now teach at home. If you are familiar with teachers, most of them were rules followers as little children, grown up to be rule-following teachers. Now, you might have a rebel rouser in a group here and there. (You can point them out at any staff meeting, sitting all smug in the back raising a ruckus. Usually they're really fun. Saying stuff none of us would say out loud.) But mostly, they follow rules. Most of them are good students themselves. They are all awesome.
I normally follow rules. I like a good rule or standard to toe the line with. Keep me in check. What have you. But, as I've posted earlier, as I "age" rules are becoming more and more fuzzy. As I let Summer Moondance, my alter ego, enters my life, the rules fade into "experiencing life" and thankful I'm pretty much a prude so no table top dancing live entertainment for this mama. (At least not in public, mind you.) Just maybe a little permission to let myself go, be more artistic, let the flair flame.
Let me explain. There are certain times that a certain oldest child I have (7 going on 37) keeps me in check. She says stuff like, "Mommy, you know the speed limit is ___. You are going over the limit." My response, "No I'm not. They only pull you if you go 10 over." Her rebuttal, "Well, it feels like you are going TOO FAST! Slow down mommy! I don't want you to go to JAIL!" (For the record, I am kidding. I know a few police officers and would be humiliated if they caught me speeding. For realz. I keep this sort of thing in check most of the time, but my back seat driver thinks otherwise.)
Well, another rule, or tradition, I have is cake. You have to celebrate EVERYTHING with cake. My girls dream their cakes and I execute them to the best of my ability. One has a birthday coming up and she wants a pig with suckling piglets on her cake. I kid you not. It is a beautiful thing to her, a mama and her piglets. I said to her gracefully, not to bash hopes, "Um, you know honey, we could do a lot more creatively cute things." She says, "The boys will laugh, right?" I said, "Maybe. We'll ask Daddy." (Poor guy represents all male opinions in our lives. No pressure really.) Dad says to me that's a little strange. I think I'd probably vomit the cake up seeing all that teat action. So that's a no go. Back to the drawing board.
Another reason to celebrate, dance recitals. Except my younger one has this cake dreamed up I will in no way get done in time enough to get her in her paraphernalia and makeup and hair to the recital and home and celebrate and those tights...ugh those tights. As the name implies they are tight. Way too tight. Oppressively tight. Too stressful but there will be cake. Dang it. And it may not have Minnie Mouse and all her friends selling bows and all but it will be delicious. And apparently it will have candles. Because my girls loves her some candles.
I used to make cakes for people. They would give me a vision and guidelines and I would recreate their cake desires. Well, sort of. You see, it might be 11pm at night and I might be in the kitchen throwing edible glitter on a cake for someone that didn't ask for glitter, but I thought they needed it because who doesn't need glitter on their birthday? (Thank you very much.) And then maybe I needed to make it 3D with some stars flying out of the center. Usually, around this time, the husband enters the kitchen. Same question. "Carla, did these people ask for those details?" And I'd say, "Nope. But they need them. And I'm throwing them in for free. That's a great deal cause this glitter isn't cheap."
Then they'd pick up the cake. It never failed. Every. Single. Time. "Wow, that's not what I was expecting. It's great. Thank you." Did they mean it or were like, "That blondie must have had a moment because I never said 3D glitter. For my grandpa?" I'll never know...
I LOVED the customers who gave me a theme and said, "Just decorate and let the cake speak to you. Be artistic. I don't care." That happened a couple of times, actually, and I was like a kid in a candy shop (cake shop?) all giddy and going BUCK DANG WILD with their cake. Throw in an extra layer for free cause I LOVED them. (You know who you are and you get prayed for more often.)
My cake career lasted a few short months before I started homeschooling. But I might need to work on rule following to be a better business woman. Cake rules. No rules for cake, or art, in my opinion. You make it delicious, add lots of flair (I can't stop the flair!) and eat it straight up with your loves. It's good for the soul.
I actually only think about cake when it's my birthday, not so much the gifts. I think about what flavor, color, celebrating. It's how I roll. And, before I learned about "sugar crashing" and how terrible sugar is for you and before we had kids, we all ate the cake breakfast, or lunch or dinner. It's once a year to celebrate. Now, daddy and I eat the cake when no one is looking. It's fantastically terrible. (As far as our kids know, the cake magically fades after the first few days into oblivion.)
In my life I've been in groups where I felt like I didn't fit in, didn't follow the social rules, religious rules, or even measured up to God's rules. And he tells me, it's not about the rules. It's about the heart. It's about his grace gift.
He says not to look around me for direction, look up and look in. Look in the Bible. Look to his face. Look to the God that in Christ, there is nothing you can do to make him love you more and nothing you can do to make him love you less. And the 10 Commandments and all, they are added with love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Good rules indeed. Rules that give freedom. Free to eat that cake and celebrate the good things. And decorate your life with a little flair. Jesus flair.
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