Vanilla Cake For a Nineteen-Year-Old Dude

FOAM PIT!
[image: Distance view of Leo about to jump into a foam pit,
seen through black safety netting.]

Someone turned nineteen very recently. Someone's mother remains in denial.

We celebrated that someone's birthday according to their specific wishes for pancakes, a typically forbidden strawberry milkshake, and a trampoline-based birthday party with friends. It was a Very Good Day, going by the Very Big Smile metric.

The resident someone was also clear that they wanted a vanilla cake for when cake-and-candle time rolled around. I'm perfectly happy with cake mix confections, but didn't have time to go to the store and get the boxed stuff. I experienced a rare Joy of Cooking fail in looking for alternatives—but the Internet provided, as it often does, and served up a recipe that was relatively quick and easy, and also worked with ingredients we had on hand (with a little quick thinking). Plus everyone really liked the cake in an "I don't usually like buttercream frosting" kind of way, so I'm sharing it with you.

PERFECT-FOR-LEO VANILLA SHEET CAKE

Modifed from marshasbakingaddiction.com/perfect-vanilla-sheet-cake

CAKE STUFF

• 3 cups cake flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 4 large room temperature eggs
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 3/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1 cup impromptu buttermilk (mix 1/2 cup sour cream with 1/2 cup water)

FROSTING STUFF

• 4 cups powdered sugar
• 1 cup Kerrygold butter, softened
• 2 - 3 tbsp whole cream
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

MAKE THE CAKE

• Preheat oven to 350F
• Grease a 13x9-inch pan, and set aside. (I used the Costco version of spray oil)
• In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
• In a stand mixer, beat the eggs on low speed just until blended. Add the sugar, and blend until combined. Add the vanilla extract and vegetable oil, and blend until combined. Gradually mix in the dry ingredients, alternating with the faux-buttermilk.
• Pour the batter into the prepared pan, and spread out evenly. Bake for 30 - 35 minutes, or until a toothpick poked deep into the middle comes out clean. 
• Allow to cool completely in the pan on a wire rack before frosting, or else your frosting will just melt and will also be full of crumbs.

MAKE THE FROSTING

• Beat together the butter and icing sugar until light and fluffy (I used a stand mixer).
• Beat in the whole cream and vanilla extract until smooth and spreadable. 
• Spread the frosting over the top of the cooled cake, decorate if you wish, then slice and serve.

Fourteen in '14

Leo was born in 2000, so his birthday age will always match the year. Convenient, that, for those of us who take a few moments to remember our own age. Doesn't make it any less shocking that our boy is fourteen.

This year, we focused on doing exactly what Leo wanted, especially on his actual birthday since it fell on a Sunday.

He woke up happy, and immediately got happier upon being told "happy birthday!"

[Image: Leo smiling, slightly blurry photo
Head and shoulders only, orange t-shirt,
white background featuring hanging plant]

For his breakfast, he got those forbidden f***ing donuts. 

For lunch, he had Indian buffet. With lassi, naan, and saag!

[Image: Leo sipping orange mango lassi
through a red straw.]

 Then he came home and got a Singing Talking Olaf as a birthday present. He was entranced.

[Image: Leo in profile, holding and looking intently at a
stuffed Olaf the Snowman from the movie Frozen.]

For dinner, he had pizza. Which he asks for daily. And is a special treat.

After dinner, we went to Rockin' jump with a few friends. Not a party, just a casual thing. No pie or pizza. The focus was the jumping. And whooooo, was there jumping!

[Image: Leo mid-air, jumping from one gray
trampoline to another, amidst a teal field.]

 Some hoops were shot, at Rockin' Jump. This is not something Leo had found easy to do in the past, but his adaptive PE class includes basketball and football practice. I observed significant Nothing but Net.

[Image: Leo throwing a yellow
basketball into a hoop, with his dad cheering
next to him. Seen from a distance.]

After Rockin' jump, we came home and Leo had a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a candle in it, and we sang his favorite song: Happy Birthday. He was so excited that he led the song himself, the moment I lit his candle.

[Image: Leo blowing out a long white candle,
with his sisters watching in the background.]

 Then we came home and Leo wanted to relax. So he sat on the couch and listened to the first Violent Femmes album. As many a fourteen-year-old boy has done before him. And that was the end of his first of three birthday celebration days.

[Image: Leo lying down on our brown couch,
with his green iPad held up to his face.]

The next day, Leo's class had a birthday party for him. They made him a very cool card.

[Image: Multicolored letters on a white background reading
Happy Birthday Leo, next to a cartoon cupcake and
yellow and blue balloons.]

And we had very healthy cupcake-like muffins. There are a few GFCF kids in the class, so I brought wheat- & dairy free chocolate cupcakes for them. Except all the kids liked the GFCF treats better than the all-natural cinnamon crumbly cakes, and polished them off.

Then we sang Happy Birthday for the second day in a row, and Leo beamed.

[Image: Leo seated at a low table, in front of a
white plate with a brown cupcake, with
a long white burning candle in it.]

The very next day, we drove down to Disneyland, where Leo was given a Happy Birthday Leo badge, and we sang him Happy Birthday one last time. He was considerably more pleased than he looks in this photo, not just because of the forbidden chocolate cupcake, but because he was at Disneyland after asking to go there nearly every day for 20 months straight. (You can read about our very successful trip and my overcoming anxiety re: the new Disability Access System pass, at TPGA.)

[Image: Leo seated at a table, looking down at a
chocolate cupcake topped by a lit candle.]

So that is what Leo's fourteenth birthday looked like. He had a great time. We had a great time. And now we all need to rest for a while! Yay fourteen.

Suddenly She's Eight Years Old

This girl is eight years old today. This fiery sparkly spunky visitor from the planet Extroversia, who keeps both herself and those of us in the audience so very entertained.

Though she'd want you to know that she's not actually eight until 11:54 tonight. But it's her birthday regardless. And that means dinner at the Lobster Shack (because they make the best grilled cheese sandwiches, obvs), and a bouncy house party later this week, and that's all very exciting.

What amazes me, though, is how very little she requires to fuel her marvelous version of reality. When asked what she wanted for her birthday, she thought for a while and said, "Another episode of the Power Puff Girls?" because they're not on Netflix. And when a girl has access to the local public library and Netflix and one's house is full of cardboard boxes and tape and Sharpies and colored pencils and pens -- really, what else is needed, or desired?

Here are some of her created objects from just the past two days at home:

Go-Kart. Note booster seat-enabled caboose.

Go-Kart front bumper. (Who taught her to write
"Bow-chicka-wow-wow"? NOT ME.)

Unicorn sailing ship with a very long name
incorporating "Dawn Treader."

I do realize she might not always be this embodiment of carefree awesomeness and explosive creativity -- puberty does strange things to a person -- which is one more reason to celebrate who she is right now. And to keep my fingers crossed. And to relish her very self this very moment, as in this video about her "magic waterfall":

Sometimes I think she deserves a mother more like her -- someone whose imagination is equally wild and on fire -- but then, perhaps I'd contaminate her. Mostly I try not to overthink it, just relax and enjoy and appreciate and be grateful for having her in our lives.

Happy 12th Birthday Leo!

This boy, who was given a diagnosis of Extreme Cuteness about the time this photo was taken...

...is now this boy. This handsome 12-years-old-as-of-today boy.

We are going to spend his birthday -- and much of the weekend -- doing exactly what he wants to do. Eating cupcakes in his class. Going to his favorite Indian restaurant for dinner. Going to see "a movie!" if we can squeak it in -- possibly Wreck it Ralph, as certain folks appreciate its neurodiversity message. Staging a Quirky Kids takeover of a local jumpy house palace to celebrate the Leelo-ness of Leo. With pizza. And his requested "chocolate cake!"

And I will continue to marvel at how the sweet, cute boy above -- a boy who will not put up with a "boy" label much longer -- continues to defy the klaxons of doom that so many experts set off around him when the first photo was taken, who continues to grow and mature and gain skills and ... need us less. (*sniff*)

At 5:30 this morning, I heard his bathroom door slam and walked over to see light streaming out from under it. Leo was standing nearby in his bedroom, looking groggy. I stomped over to knock on the bathroom door and grouch at Iz for waking her brother up -- except lo, there was no one in the bathroom, because the light-turner-onner and door-slammer was Leo, who had needed to pee and just wanted to go back to bed, Mom. Leo, who didn't see why door slamming and leaving lights on were such a big deal. Who thinks I should know by now what 12 year old boys do as they wander around their natural environments. Who was giving me an sincere, bleary-eyed WTF look. Who did indeed go back to bed until it was time for his birthday blueberry pancakes.

Happy birthday, sweet boy.

(I can still write "boy," damn it.)

Three Kids, Three Days, Three Doses of Thankfulness

Thursday: Leo participated fully and joyously in an extended family-and-friends Thanksgiving. Two years ago this kind of festivity was unimaginable; Leo had such a hard time wearing his own skin that our family fell into two separate pieces for Thanksgiving and Christmas, as it wasn't fair for his sisters to be sequestered for family holidays. A happy Thanksgiving will never ever be taken for granted, not in our house, not with our social but easily overwhelmed boy.

Friday: Mali's sixth birthday. This kid is a joy and intensity molotov cocktail; our lives would be so much duller without her. I still can't believe she's here, still give thanks every day. Count yourself lucky if she counts you as a friend -- but don't turn your back on her, either.

Saturday: Iz, Leelo, & I were treated to a sneak preview of pianist Stephen Prutsman's Bach & Forth concert at San Francisco's Herbst Theatre (tonight's official show was an autism fundraiser, and itself preparation for a performance at New York's Lincoln Center). Iz was acutely aware of the unexpected gifts that come with being Leelo's sister as she watched Mr. Prutsman's hands blur across the keys, lost herself to his music (Bach does that to people, Mr. Prutsman's lovely & gracious wife commented), and then got to hop on stage after his performance, to play Kabalevsky's Sonatina. The experience was all kinds of magic.

I hope you had much to be thankful for during this extended weekend, too.

A Happy 10th Birthday Pizza Epiphany!

Look who's ten years old today! Doesn't he look handsome like his dad, and skeptical like his mom? I'll have to start telling him he's the world's most handsome boy instead of the world's cutest, because ten-year-old boys do not appreciate their mothers pinching their cheeks and clucking at them. Leo is no exception.

He had a fun bouncing birthday party, with many of our favorite people and families -- including several of his new classmates and their equally wonderful families. It was delightful. The picture above is him at the party, about to blow out his candles.

If you needed a double-take, let me reassure you -- that's not pizza, it's cake. A very symbolic cake. A cake that the party facility owners almost blocked because non-cake outside food is prohibited. A pepperoni pizza cake*. Which we made for him because, as of Halloween, he now eats pepperoni pizza! (And garlic chicken stuffed pizza, though its confection version is less striking.) Our lifelong vegetarian-by-choice boy is finally going to get some protein from non-legume, non-dairy, non-egg sources!

Why the leap to pepperoni, after a lifetime of gagging at the smell of meat? I do believe part of it is maturation. But mostly, I credit Judy McCrary Koeppen's, Leo's former SLP, and her guidelines for picky eaters. We used the idea of "food chaining" during more than a year of weekly pizza nights: first we got Leo to nibble on the pizza crust,  then on crusts with a bit of sauce, and then crusts with a bit of sauce and cheese (that took the better part of the year). And then suddenly he was demanding pepperoni pizza on Halloween. Was it a fluke? No, because this nomming picture is from the first weekly pizza night after Halloween, when he scarfed two pieces of the pepperoni stuff. You can see the nomming yourself in this video, which Seymour says is shot in PizzaCam. Our boy is a genuine pepperoni pizza convert (and spinach pizza, too).

Leo's pizza love means a milestone for the rest of his family, too. When we went out for pizza on the night of Leo's birthday party, Seymour noted that it was the first time ever our entire family ate the same thing for dinner. First time ever. Ever.

Our boy is not in stasis, that's for certain. I am hoping for more positive surprises and more happiness for him during this, his eleventh year on our big blue marble.

HAPPY 10th BIRTHDAY LEO!

*In case you were impressed by my creativity, know that I used the guidelines from the first Google hit for "pizza cake." Though I substituted healthy-ish carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, and used apricot fruit leather for the pepperoni.

41

It's my birthday! I intend to work, go to yoga, work, go to lunch, work, be secretly grateful that Iz injured but did not break her toe and cannot go to soccer practice so we can all go out to dinner, and work. There will be interstitial family time, topped off with a dulce de leche cake. I may sneak off and treat myself to Scott Pilgrim 4 - 7,  Avengers Disassembled, or New Avengers 1 - 7. Dreamy!

The best birthday gift you can give me: an intelligent comment on my post at Shot of Prevention, as there are 250+ comments as of this writing, many from anti-vaccinationists of very little brain but of great copy-paste/parrot power. Those who can think are using their talents for sarcastic nitpicking and distracting and general thread derailing, since they can't come up with arguments other than "we don't believe your evidence and science." Those of us participating in the conversation are doing fine, keeping the thread on-topic while politely lopping off spiraling conspiracy theory hydra heads -- but more strong clear smart voices would be welcome.

You could also forward my Autism Speaks post on appreciating Leo's hard work to anyone who could use a dose of autism awareness/acceptance/advocacy. The supportive comments -- so lovely --  are a nice contrast from the bile of the Shot of Prevention comments, and a good example of the power of positivity. Ellen of LoveThatMax has what I told her is a "parallel universe" post up today, about rejecting the complacency of acceptance, definitely worth your time.

Or you could take to heart and pass on the following passage from Kim Edwards' fluidly written novel The Memory Keeper's Daughter, which Ellen's post evoked, for me:

Caroline [mother-by-choice of a child with Down syndrome] would never forget those hours, the excitement she'd felt, as if she were waking from a long, slow dream. What would happen, they conjectured, if they simply went on assuming their children would do everything. Perhaps not quickly. Perhaps not by the book. But what if they simply erased those growth and development charts, with their precise, constricting points and curves? What if they kept their expectations but erased the timeline? What harm could it do? Why not try?

Or you could release me from the obligation of watching Parenthood just because it has an autism thread. I veer away from family/relationship dramas; I watch House, Fringe, Glee with the kids, and sometimes SVU (in the background while I work). So unless enough people tell me Parenthood is a revelation, I'm erasing it from the queue and not looking back.

Or you could tell me that I don't look silly in my Comcast Upside interview about Leo & his iPad, now that it's been posted online. LOOK AT THE INTERVIEWER, DUH. I got more comfortable and animated eventually; a good learning experience! And hopefully other folks will find the interview useful.

Or you could donate to:

• www.SEPTAR.org 
• www.AutismScienceFoundation.org 
• www.HollyRod.org

As always, hope your day is a particularly lovely one, too.

How to Be a Wicked Mother

Here's the thing about my family, the D'Artagnans: We're people pleasers. We're doggedly loyal (though gods help you if you wrong not us, but someone we love), and we'll dig to the othe side of the planet and back to make things happen for family and friends. But it can be a rather impish process. Witness:

Iz turned eleven this past weekend. All she wanted was to see Wicked -- and had been perseverating to that effect, for months. Finally, in early December, I'd had enough, and told her, "Iz, I need you to stop badgering me about Wicked, otherwise you'll never get to go." (Note that this is not a no.) So she stopped nagging. And I started plotting.

I found discount tickets online, on her birthday. I asked Seymour and Iz's Godfather Michael if they would go with her. They agreed. (I opted out as I needed to do prep for Iz's post-Wicked slumber party.) And then we came up with a plan. We told Iz that godfather Michael was taking her to Alcatraz for her birthday! What a treat! But -- she was genuinely excited, plus we realized that dressing for The Rock and dressing for The Theatre were divergent tasks.

So Michael and I confered, and revised: Oh no, Michael forgot it was a holiday weekend! Alcatraz was sold out! But he'd found an alternate event, and hoped she was as excited as he was! The following letter is all Michael's doing, I merely suggested that he think of a formal event that would underwhelm a tween:

Hello, dearest goddaughter of mine.

Your mom and dad have been kind enough to let me take you out for your birthday. How's that? I would call to ask you personally, but I won't make it home to call you until way past your bed time. When is your bed time, anyway? You're almost eleven now, it may be time to re-negotiate that with your parents. Or not. I have no power over such things, you know.

As if by some stroke of magic, the San Francisco Symphony is performing  a rare "Salute to Canada" on Saturday afternoon, hosted by that most famous of all Canadian songbirds, Anne Murray! I think (and I am sure your mother would agree) that it's high time you started to get more in touch with your glorious Canadian heritage. Two and a half hours of Bryan Adams, Paul Anka, Leonard Cohen, Stompin' John Connors, and Céline Dion songs all performed by one of the greatest symphonies in the world is just too good a thing to pass up.

The performance is at 2 pm. I thought you might like to lunch at a little place called Frjtz before hand. Please dress appropriately for the theatre.

It wil be fun and so educational!

Love,

Your Godfather

Iz tried to muster enthusiasm, but confessed to me that she felt guily about not really wanting to go, and that she'd really been looking forward to Alcatraz -- but she didn't want to disappoint her godfather since he was so excited. Poor girl!

The day arrived. And it was a big day, with multiple events: breakfast at our favorite café, her soccer game, lunch at Frjtz, a slumber party, and...

After lunch, we drove to The Orpheum. She saw its huge Wicked sign, and while that was exciting,  didn't think anything of it as were were in the Civic Center neighborhood of majestic performance spaces. But then we stopped and told her she should get out.

Because she was seeing Wicked.

SHE WAS SEEING WICKED OMG OMG OMG!!

 

Iz and her dapper Godfather exiting the minivan as her Wicked reality sets in

She basically went supernova with happiness. Which is what every parent wants for their child, yes?

Godfather gave her a hug and apologized for being friends with a mother who delights in playing tricks on her children. Seymour said she remained rapt for the entire performance. I drove off with the two littler children, quite pleased, myself. The D'Artagnan traditions are alive and well in our family.

Happy eleventh, sweet girl.

Turning Nine on a Ninth in 2009

Leo had such a busy, fun, indulgent, and productive birthday that he asked to go to bed right on time. We even had him declaring that he was nine- rather than eight-years-old by day's end. But before that...

Seymour and I woke him up and presented him with his new Catbus! He was not as immediately overjoyed as I'd hoped, mostly because he didn't want to wake up. But once he realized what we were shoving at him, he was pleased.

Every seat had a cute little butt in it during carpool this morning, which meant that six people sang Leo Happy Birthday while we made the morning drop off rounds. Our cabin music also featured happy birthday songs, by The Jimmies, The Candy Band, and Justin Roberts.

After Leo and I returned home and he got on his bus, I worked for a bit then awaited the behavioralist sent by the regional center. Leo's regional center case worker was pleased by the reduction in Leo's aggressive behaviors since last year, but since his remaining behaviors are still dangerous when they do happen, she offered us a few hours of in-home behavioralist consultation. Supervisor M works at Leo's school almost exclusively, and supervisor E works on his home program rather than doing QA as she used to, so I figured a good pair of QA-like eyeballs might be helpful. Let's hope the regional center reviews the behavioralist's intial report on Leo and grants those hours to us.

Then I scurried off to Leo's school with his sad looking but tasty cake. Before I could make it to his classroom, both his teacher and Supervisor M asked me to walk down the hall and meet with the county director to talk about transitioning Leo to an integrated site. Which I did. We talked for a while, and I think we're going to move him -- ideally, when the new year arrives, Leo will spend one day per week in an autism classroom on a typical elementary campus, where he will get to mingle with neurotypical peers under the watchful eyes of one of the best teachers in the county (and an aide who knows him, of course). If the class works for him, he will transfer fully for fourth grade. The best part: he will have two friends in the class, the children of two of my favorite people!

More scurrying after the meeting, to Leo's classroom. The class staff had covered the tables with festive purple paper, and Supervisor M was there! A huge treat. His teacher even had a candle for him to blow out -- something I'd left at home as I didn't think it would be allowed. Everyone sang Leo Happy Birthday to the best of their abilities and then he blew out the candle (with some assistance from inspired classmates). And Supervisor M got him a solar-powered remote controlled car! How very cool.

Afterwards, I skulked into the neighborhood Starbucks to caffeinate and finish off my work shift. I didn't really want to be there because I am disappointed with that company: I sent their customer support crew an email asking if would be possible to procure my Starbucks straws-obsessed son with autism a case of their straws as a birthday treat, and their bot-like answer was:

No, we don't sell our straws, and furthermore our supplier is confidential. 

Seymour said they had a right to refuse and I understand -- but it seems like a missed opportunity to generate serious social media goodwill while delighting a challenged little boy who doesn't ask for much. I grumpily and defiantly grabbed a big bunch of the longer straws when I left.

Leo's birthday afternoon was about mellowness and watching Totoro while squealing and tossing around his new Catbus. And sometimes even offering it to his little sister while informing her, "It's Catbus!"

We picked up Indian food for dinner, as we'd promised. Leo not only sat patiently and non-violently in the regular non-five-point-harness booster seat next to Mali the entire way there and back, but he accepted that he had to wait until we got home to eat his naan bread. No hitting, no complaining, no whining. Whoa.

We still had to portion out his naan when we got home -- if he ever does learn to reasonably self-regulate his eating, naan will be the final non-bolting test item.

He asked to go to bed, as I mentioned. He also asked me to play him some tunes on the penny whistle, as has become part of our bedtime routine. Many of the songs he loves fit within that seven-note range -- including the Totoro theme song (mostly), Good Night by Laurie Berkner, This Little Light of Mine, and, as we discovered tonight, the Justin Roberts version of Happy Birthday. Afterward, and after only fifteen minutes of giggling in bed, he slid into sleep.

Nine nine nine. My son is nine. I still can't believe it.

Happy Ninth Birthday Leelo!

Happy birthday beautiful boy!

I am thrilled about what Nine Years Old means for Leo. Our happy, well-adjusted boy has helped us be happy and well-adjusted, too. One year ago I would not have believed such gladness was possible. This is a precious time.

I love that he was excited yet conflicted about going to camp this past weekend. He wanted to go, but he didn't want to be apart from his family -- both positives. He also may have been worried that this was a week-long rather than a weekend-only camp, even though I reassured him that it was the latter. He had a great time, with a great aide, and greeted me at pickup with Spiderman-worthy leaps of joy that ended in a bear hug. He was voted Sweetest Scarecrow during the Harvest Carnival.

I can't wait to greet him when he wakes up, because we got him a new stuffed Catbus for his birthday. I thought was going to be the size of a Chihuahua but no -- more like a portly Jack Russell terrier.  It's huge, and really well made. Leo is going to go out of his mind when he sees it.

I am saddened that Leo's birthday day carrot cake is a pathetic-looking, non-CakeWrecks-worthy fail. I give up on gel decorating tubes! They are sploogy and gush liquid half the time. His cake may be covered in wee rainbow puddles, but it will be delicious and I'm hoping his classmates only care about that. I promise to make a better one for his birthday party, which I am really looking forward to (as I wrote on BlogHer last week). I hope he is too.

There will be green straw snatching runs and naan bread for dinner tonight!

Birthday Heroine

This is Super Jill. Yay for her and her nutso yet quite fun party. I am wonked. To bed, to bed. Tomorrow: to the coast, to the coast.