Mom Insists, ‘Let There Be Cake’

I had a phone chat with my mom last night, and after she finished ranting about which one of her kids was pissing her off at that particular moment (thankfully, it wasn’t me), she switched topics and asked how the wedding planning was coming along.

Mom: “You pick colors?”

Me: “No, that’s not really, uh, something we care about.”

Mom: “I hear you having real unconventional wedding.”

Me: “Yeah, kind of. We’re not having any bridesmaids or groomsmen.”

Mom: “Why not?”

Me: “I don’t know, too much hassle. We just want to keep things simple.”

Mom: “What about flowers?”

Me: “Yeah, we’ll have flowers. We need to send out our invitations first so we have an idea of how many tables we’ll have to set up, then we’ll determine how many flowers we’ll need.”

Mom: “REAL flowers.”

Me: “Yeah, whatever, I just don’t want to spend a ton of money on flowers since I don’t really care about them.”

Mom: “…real flowers, Rebecca.”

Me: “Yeah, I got it. We did order a bunch of pies for dessert, though, so that’s all set.”

Mom: “Whaaa? No cake?”

Me: “No, we’ve got pies.”

Mom: “Why no cake!”
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Me: “Jason and I like pie better. We ordered four different flavors and they’re all delicious. It’ll be fine.”

Mom: “…you gotta have cake, Rebecca.”

Me: “We’ll have plenty of pie…and we may get some donuts or something, too. We’ll see.”

Mom, horrified: “DOH-NUTS?! Noooooooooo. Don’t get doh-nuts, people gonna laugh at you.”

Me, chuckling: “I went to a wedding last fall that had a nice dessert spread that included apple cider donuts. They were really good.” (I ate about six of them. Thank glob for Spanx.)

Mom: “You gotta have cake. Mommy buy you small cake.”

Me: “What, just for me and Jason?”

Mom: “No, small cake, guests eat. I buy, is okay. I buy Mia wedding cake and it only cost four hundred dollars.”

Me: “Well that’s about what we’re spending on pies. [We’re spending closer to $600. Mom doesn’t need to know that.] It’s fine, Mom, people like pie.”

Mom: “I buy small cake. Good. Half chock-oh-let, half vuh-kneel-uh.”

Me: “Uh…”

Mom: “YOU GOTTA HAVE CAKE.”

Me, sighing: “I’ll talk to Jason. We’ll see.”

Mom, pleased: “People eat the cake.”

So in two and a half months, our dessert spread will include an assortment of lovely pies, possibly some seasonal donuts, and a shoehorned cake that I’ll be sure to pair with a sign that says, “Rebecca’s mom insisted that there be cake. Half chock-oh-let, half vuh-kneel-uh.”