Frankie’s Confections holds a special place in my heart. Frankie Jo’s story is one of endurance, forgiveness, and redemption. No one is perfect, and every life is marred from the daily act of living in a world filled with broken people. Frankie battles inner demons while learning the difference between questioning God and asking God questions. It’s not easy to see God’s goodness in the middle of the storm, but when He is your anchor, the storm will not overtake you.

It’s my birthday month. I love birthdays. Honestly, who doesn’t love a reason to eat cake?

Age, well that is a different matter. Age doesn’t usually bother me. I’m not one of those people who lie about my age. No judgment to those who do, but the thought of fighting gravity and the aging process is too exhausting. I don’t have the time nor the energy for Botox and expensive age creams. Full disclosure, this does not apply to the “natural” color of my hair (wink, wink). Everything else in my life can run its course.

I digress. Some birthdays have really hit me hard. I’m not talking about the typical 5 and 10 year benchmarks, but the survey ones. The first few times I have to check off the next level on a survey gets me every time. Moving to the 26-35 bracket was difficult. The 36-45 bracket was very difficult, but now, I have to check the 46-55 box. That’s a whole different ball game.

My son isn’t a fan of cake. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll eat a piece if offered one at a party, but it’s not his go-to dessert. His sister loves to bake and will make him naked cupcakes (sans icing), but even then, he’d rather have a Fudge Stripe instead. When his birthday rolled around this year, he asked for one of his sister’s famous chocolate chip cookie cakes with homemade chocolate buttercream icing. She will make sure most of the icing remains on the border, so he gets naked cookie cake while everyone else fights over the chocolate territory. When all a kid asks for is Chick-fil-a nuggets and homemade cookie cake, you make sure he gets them.

On the windowsill behind my kitchen sink, sit a plastic cup that grows grass and a rubber frog toy. I know, I’m strange.

To be honest, I “confiscated” the frog from my two youngest who were fighting over it one day. I remember hearing in high school the FROG acronym to Fully Rely On God, and I loved it, but I’ve kept that to myself. You know how people get labeled as having a thing, and everyone buys them trinkets of that thing? My mother-in-law is the gingerbread lady. At one point she had over 100 gingerbread men items displayed all over her house. It is adorable and really cool. I don’t necessarily want to be the “frog lady” with creepy, slimy frog trinkets all over my home. However, every once in a while, a cute frog will catch my attention and hold it. This is how Faith, the rubber, squeezable, toy FROG ended up on my windowsill.

In between dance recitals, cookie baking, two birthdays, and school events, I am attempting to read one chapter of Proverbs each day in December.  As of today, I’m two days behind.  At this rate, I will finish by the end of January. 

The end of the school year is IEP time in our house.  When I think about me during IEP time, I imagine myself in an 80s movie where the mom is wearing one of those unfortunate suits trying to “fight the man.”  I have color coded file folders that measure a foot high when carried together. 

Have you ever been to a tea party?  I mean a real, grown up tea party?  One with finger sandwiches and scones?  The closest I have been to a tea party involved plastic pink cups and, on rare occasions of feeling adventurous or motherly, iced tea and Oreos. 

My best friend Gena and I used to spend hours in the kitchen baking.  It didn’t matter whose kitchen.  My house.  Her house.  One time we took over a chocolate bar and created masterful chocolate coffees.