Been attacked by the style police

A  little voice inside of my head starts shouting at me “THERE IS NO FLIPPEN WAY I CAN DO THIS!!” .  The scene in front of me starts playing out like a movie where I want to shout “DON’T DO IT, STOP …… THINK ……. LISTEN”.

Registering a hint of danger my nervous system is zapping emergency commands to my adrenals.  Like a hormonal SWAT team they start shooting a burst of adrenaline into my bloodstream, and now ……. I am in the middle of a full-on rush.  My pupils are dilated, my heart is pounding, my palms are sweating and my hair is standing on end ………..

How did I get to this really low point in my life …….. let’s start at the beginning ………..

Rosie comes bounding back from school the other day, as only an twelve year old who loves her day at school can and pushes a piece of paper in front of my nose, whilst I am driving and whilst I am trying to listen to Jamie telling me something about his day ………. Which is rare…………

“Shhhhhhh ROWZZEE” Jamie kills his sister with one look, “stop interrupting”

“But, but, but MOOOOMMMM, this is important, you have got to sign this NOW!”

To save the peace, and to keep Jamie talking, whilst I am driving I untangle a pencil from my ponytale and balance the notice between the steering wheel and my boobs (its not a great distance) and haphazardly sign the notice.  Peace reigns, Rosie is happy, Jamie is talking and I promptly forget about the piece of paper which I have just signed and I have no idea what it is about.

Two days later, just before bedtime, Rosie says the dreaded words ………. “Have you made the cupcakes?”.

I look around to see if she is talking to the person behind me ……….. a huge gap of emptiness greets me there.

“Cupcakes?  WHAT CUPCAKES?”

“You signed the notice MOM (I am sure she is now saying DUH!!! In her brain), YOU promised to make 12 cupcakes for the Grade 7 tour.

“No problem SWEETNESS, we will just go to the bakery tomorrow morning and buy 12 magnificent cupcakes for the sale”

Her face drops, her shoulders droop and tears start swelling in her eyes.  But YOU have got to make them Mom.

“Whats the difference? (huge if you think of the quality of the cupcake).  Just lie tell them I made them”.

“NO MOM …… THEY will know”  They being the other 90 cupcake goddess Moms at the school.

“Who cares?”  I ask ………

“I do ………” is her reply.

Now anyone who knows me, knows there are two rules of life that I live by ……. TDR (Tanya doesn’t run) and TDB (yip you have got it Tanya doesn’t bake).  I buy baked goods, we have an absolutely fabulous bakery in town that will bake you whatever you need, quickly, no fuss, no muss – just confectionery perfection.

So here I stand, in my kitchen ……. My heart is beating …….. my palms are sweating …… my adrenal glands are SWATTING my whole body.

I make the first move and put butter and sugar into the Kenwood, and before I know it I am having a blast.  I have creamed, beaten, stirred, sieved and folded.  I am in kitchen heaven.  12 little paper cupcake holders are filled with batter and popped into the oven.  Precisely 15 minutes later the aroma of little cupcakes fill my home.  I take them out of the oven and they are perfect.  I can’t wait for them to cool so that I can ice them.

All dressed up and a cake sale to go.

Rosie comes home …….. she is thrilled.

Mission accomplished.

So it just shows to go that our comfort zones are just a tad petty.  I’m not saying you have to go and climb Everest if you are afraid of heights.  Maybe just climb the hill next to your home, make friends with you neighbor or bake a few cupcakes.  I did.

Next week I start running.


  1. Pingback: Tiny little cupcakes – by Tanya Loots | St Francis Village News

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s