Writing My Suburban Life  Safety in Cupcakes

– By Jackie Frederick-Berner –

The planning begins weeks before. The calendar is carefully checked and the perfect date determined. With the precision of NASA choosing a launch date, the day that the birthday cupcakes will be brought to school is decided.

Our family's formula goes like this: Should your birthday fall on a weekend, your options are the Friday before or the Monday after. It all depends on whether you're the type to start the celebration early or draw it out as long as you can.

If your birthday falls during the school week, and your party is on that day, it must be decided whether it's overkill to eat cupcakes twice within an eight-hour period. That decision is actually an executive one. I've yet to meet a child who has a problem with that. What it really comes down to is: do I want to bake, then ice, 48 cupcakes the night before? In our house (alas), the store-bought kind is not an option. 

Luckily, I had a few years of cupcake making under my belt before I was faced with the scheduling intricacies of classroom birthday celebrations and the accompanying challenge:  transporting the cupcakes to school. As I ran through my options, I knew that a cardboard shirt-box would do just fine. The icing might smear but the cakes wouldn't be any worse for wear. My heart, however, was set on something else. The Tupperware cupcake carrier was what I wanted. I would be the '50s mother that my '60s mother wasn't.

The purchase wasn't made lightly. It seemed frivolous. Plus it was out of character. A Tupperware lady I was not. My storage-ware collection, a mish-mash of flimsy deli containers, bore little resemblance to the photos in the Tupperware catalog. What drew me was the sturdiness of that Tupperware container. If I could hold my children's cupcakes safe, I could hold them safe, too.

The first time I made birthday cupcakes I remember feeling like a complete novice. That I even managed to line the baking tins with paper wrappers was sheer luck. Yet, when I passed around the platter at the family party it was as if I were serving up magic. Even more excited than the baby perched in his highchair, were the grandparents, aunts and uncles, who upon getting their very own cupcakes, carefully pulled the papers off, heads gently bowed above the sweet softness.

My children's first cupcakes were always banana. In the blink of an eye they graduated to vanilla, then chocolate. The baking became a sacred ritual, each child helping with his own batch, waiting impatiently to lick the batter from the beaters. One year we made chocolate marble cupcakes by putting a dab of chocolate batter into the vanilla and swirling them together with a toothpick. Another year we iced them like black-and-white cookies.

Last June, I was surprised to find that my cupcake baking experience was tinged with sadness. As I carefully placed cupcakes in my Tupperware holder for my summer birthday child, I realized that this would be the last time I'd do this for him. He would soon graduate elementary school. Mothers toting Tupperware cupcake holders could not follow where he was headed.

How quickly he crossed over. It used to be he couldn't wait to pass those cupcakes out to his classmates. Now he talks about what's cool. Shirts that were fine last year are balled up in the bottom of his drawer. Too babyish. He's moving on just as he should, carried, I hope, by those little cakes baked with care.

My cupcake holder still has a few good years left. My youngest son is already planning when he'll bring his birthday cupcakes to school. In the years since I purchased my holder, I've come to learn a thing or two about being a parent. Even though I can protect my children's cupcakes, I can't always protect my children. The one certain thing I can give them is my love, shimmering on the tip of a birthday candle.

Jackie Frederick-Berner lives in Rye with her husband and two sons. She is co-author of “The Birth That's Right For You” and a writer of personal essays.