Sunday, April 4, 2010

Happy Easter Bunny Cake! It's a tradition!

To look at me today, in my pink frosted man cave, quilting organic cotton doodads, you'd never suspect my Sid and Nancy like adolescence. Imagine me, 15, shaved head, pierced nose, sullen face, smoking a pack of newports a day (classy), wearing knee high red doc martens that between you and me, I thought looked spectacular with the orange lining in my flight jacket. Cute. I was really mad, but I still like to match! (Pictures, please. I know. But I'm in Palm Springs, so I promise to upload really mortifying pictures of me, fat, bald, and chain smoking when I get home) 

Sid and Nancy. Ick.

The Easter that I was 16, not the brightest day in my family's history I stayed out all night taking mescaline (for the first and last times) with some friends. This was probably 10-15 minutes before I was shipped off to boarding school. But that's another story. I showed up around 10 in the morning, after everyone had gone to church. My mother was in the kitchen preparing the meal for the day. She'd probably been worried sick. When she saw me walk through the door I'm sure she was furious. But all she said was "go clean yourself up and come down here and help me get ready."  It's been decades (not that I'm old enough for decades to have passed) since I've done drugs, or smoked cigarettes (ok, maybe there were a few sneaky cigarettes). But I DO continue to try to match my boots to my jacket. Old habits...

 So for those of you out there who might be wondering if your teenager has in fact been replaced by body snatchers, they'll be fine...

Every year for Easter my mom would make this bunny cake. Apparently. I don't remember. I think I was high on something. Ok, lots of things. She made it every year. I wasn't high for all of them, but enough that when she brought up the bunny cake a few years ago when Jack was born, I was all:


And she was all:

 "You know the bunny cake I made every year for Easter. With the coconut frosting. It was a big deal. You and your brother loved it!" 

I'm not sure but she might have also shouted:


Ok, so then I kind of felt bad. I mean I guess I did have a vague recollection of a bunny cake but I had stronger memories of stuff like the shoe boxes she would cut a slit in the top of, cover in tin foil, and pink and red paper doilies, the day before Valentines, so I'd have a pretty mailbox when we passed them out in class. And the times she would bring me breakfast in bed on my birthday. And how she never forgot that I loved cantaloupe, and my bagel toasted dark with the cream cheese ALL the way across it, not just in the middle. And the Brachs black jelly beans her mom, my grandma would eat by the bag full. She had a dalmatian named Romeo and she would share them with us, me and the dog standing by her side waiting for a treat. "One for you, two for me". Are you starting to see where all my clever crafty goodness comes from? 

A few weeks ago when we were in Target (stop it, I know) looking for LOL stuff, my mom stopped in her tracks, to which I screeched "DAMNIT WOMAN KEEP MOVING, I'M NOT COMING BACK FOR YOU!" or something like that. She had found a bunny cake mold. This one was new and improved. She put it in her cart. Her only treasure from that little hunt. She made it yesterday afternoon, and she and Jack will frost it today, although he was lobbying pretty hard last night, to eat "just a little bit today." 

Last night I went outside and hid easter eggs around the Nana's yard. There was a real bunny out there. Just hopping along. Maybe Jack won't remember the French lessons, or the fact that he had every single garbage truck toy mankind has ever produced. But I KNOW that he'll remember Nana's bunny cake. Good boys don't forget stuff like that. 

Happy Easter everybody. 


  1. Yay Nana!!!! Happy Easter Knapps.

  2. What a sweet traditon. Pass on the bunny cake.