Pre-Birthday Open Letter to Daphne

(Photo Credit: Roberto Gonzalez)

Dear Daphne,

Your Facebook post lamenting your inability to get a Carvel, custom ice cream cake for your birthday touched me deeply – especially in the context of your profile pic showing a stunningly beautiful woman with bridal veil pulled back to reveal her large, dark eyes. Then came your e-mail saying how much you loved my birthday cards: one with a cupcake decorated with sparkles, and the other of a dog wearing glitter sunglasses, which I thought would be perfect for a daughter who has a blog called “Animal Crazy.”

Yes, I raised you to be independent, and feel proud of your accomplishments as a journalist, and also your life choices. I love Etan as a son-in-law, and take comfort in knowing that the two of you will celebrate your birthday together this weekend with a romantic stay at a historic hotel in St. Augustine. At the same time, I delight in your childlike wonder in life’s simple pleasures, including birthday cakes.

While I have no regrets in encouraging you to leave the Northeast to pursue your career, I feel sad that we won’t be together on your birthday. I’ll have to make do, reflecting on things that happened along the way:

(1) Mrs. Bernard, our neighbor from across the street, questioned my judgment about not having you wear a hat the first time I took you out in your blue, Perego coach carriage. Who wears a hat in August? Who could know the same hatless baby would one day find herself so addicted to Captain Kangaroo that she'd resist getting dressed for pre-school? Or that she would later introduce me to Mad Men and that I'd introduce her to Nurse Jackie?

(2) Grandma Pearl questioned my judgment about putting you in Pampers. She also had serious doubts about the detergent I was using to launder your stretch suits. Given my absolute lack of confidence and experience in parenting, I was defensive – lecturing her about what I’d read in parenting books. I was slightly more receptive to a specialist at Childrens Hospital Boston, the one who told me that I needed to let you select your own clothing -- even if what you mixed and matched didn't match. Based on that Coach bag you selected for this year's birthday, I can see she was right about your eventually developing your own sense of style.

(3) The first year you celebrated your birthday in Williamsburg, VA because your job took you there, I surprised you with a Death by Chocolate cake from Trellis that you could share with your colleagues in the newsroom. You would have been perfectly happy with a Carvel, non-custom ice cream cake from a supermarket. But with you living away, I wanted something that would top the Big Bird cake with sculpted butter cream feathers I’d ordered for your fourth birthday.

(4) I think it was your first year working in Orlando that I picked you up at Logan Airport. It was a sunny day with temps just in the 70’s, perfect for al fresco dining. You and I lunched on lobster rolls at the Boston Harbor Hotel – followed by a walk down to Faneuil Hall. (Was this a throwback to the days when you were just a toddler and I’d put you and your stroller in my Ford Maverick and the two of us would throw together lunch from the concessions at Quincy Market?)

(5) When you have a mom who does very little cooking, a request for a birthday dinner at home should not come as a surprise. Dan Johnson and Kyle Paine joined us for my special glazed salmon and rice pilaf, followed by a custom ice cream cake from Herrell’s in Brighton. The three of you were long since out of college, and I recently came across the pics from that party in one of my albums.

I’ve always wished you happiness on your own terms, hoping that life brings you what you want, not what I might want. A Carvel cake, custom or one from the supermarket shelf, is o.k. (I have a vague recollection of ordering one, but only at your request, for one of your birthdays during your high school years. It had chocolate crunchy stuff between layers.)

But I can’t really say I’m devastated that the Carvel store in Brookline, ironically just down the street from where Dennis and I now live, was transformed into a Dunkin Donuts. Were you back in Boston for your birthday, I know I’d try to talk you into something a bit more upscale. Perhaps an ice cream cake from JP Licks?

Love,xxxxxxooooooxxxxxxooooooxxxxxxx
Mom