My firstborn, Tara, posted an awesome blog this past week. She is not only a great and honoring daughter, but she is a loving and in-love wife and an amazingly creative mommy-making sure to imprint Hunter's life powerfully for his good.
Well, as the first to be married, you were the ones we really practiced on! Six years ago, only 2 days after Christmas (I thought you were trying to kill me), you were married and danced your first dance – under the upside-down-white-tree-trimmed-in-crystals-and-strewn-with-thousands-of-white-lights-looking-ever-so-"giant chandelier-ish" (a similiar version hangs in The Celebration Center at Northern Hills this year, courtesy of your brother, Rocky). And Christmases have changed in their look and feel and sound ever since!
December 27, 2001 was relatively quiet and oh-so-lovely. You chose old world, and elegance: deep wine and winter white with lots of sparkle and candles in a church that overlooked the Boulder Valley-shimmering in Christmas lights – all for your wedding! It was regal and traditional with a twist: Radiohead provided the background as you danced and I am still wondering: what the heck were they saying??!?
Your love and the family you have created have, in many ways, have shaped the landscape of our family celebrations and certainly led the parade to the joyous festivities we now experience. Yes, in six, short years you've gone from being just the ever-cool, cutting-edge, on-their-way-to-London Tristan and Stephanie to the ever-cool parents of 2 awesome redheads and an adorable blond. As your family has grown, our whole family has, too, and life is a little more exciting and interesting and louder than it used to be and that is OK! It is, in fact, great!
Steph, you know we know you got the best! You chose well. Tristan, thank-you for choosing Stephanie and fearlessly becoming one of us. We all love your love for each other!
Happy Anniversary, my darling ones…mom
PICTURED:Steph & Tris with Gavin, early 2004; just the 2 lovebirds in Dec. 2004 (pregnant with Guini); Easter 2007, about a month before Gemma was born; Thanksgiving 2007 – the whole Kelley family.
This is it. These are the final cakes of 2007, I am telling you! Even Jesus will not be getting a "Happy Birthday to You Cake" from me this year and I think He is happy to allow me that!
Each year when the kids were little, we acknowledged Christ's birth with a red and green jello-infused white cake topped with whipped cream confection. Though that "tradition" became more sporadic as they got older, it has not been unusual to have one of them ask yearly if I'll be making one. I am planning to resurrect it with vigor for the grandbabies, but not in 2007. OK? OK.
However, for Jovan's baby shower last week, I made a cake at her request. The thing about Jovan is first, she actually LOVES cake! Second she loves to dream up fancy cakes so she is challenging me, pulling me in deeper to a land of flour-and-eggs-and-sugar-and-buttercream-and-extra-ordinary-flavors-and-extracts-and-exotic-fillings I never knew existed. So, for sweet Jovan, whether I feel I can do it or not – I try and she rewards me with oohs and aahs and "I love it"s and so I attempt again, even though right in the middle of the process I am always wondering what am I doing????, to create the cake she has envisioned!
This one was much smaller than the wedding cake from the previous week. It was a 10" lemon-poppyseed with lemon-curd filling and an 8" chocolate butter cake with fudge filling.
The whole shower, thrown by her mom and sisters, was pink and brown and polka-dots at Jovan's parent's home in Frederick. It was "Jovan!" through and through.
This other cake was actually Tara's brainchild. Her good friend, Marianna from Brazil (www.thewakefields.wordpress.com ), who moved here in the spring when she married a worship pastor from Northern Hills Christian Church, was having a birthday and Tara decided to honor her with a cake of her homeland. Tara drew Brazil on foamcore, cut it out and covered it in foil. Then she baked a 16" x 16" chocolate-swiss cake (3 augmented Duncan Hines mixes). After it cooled, we placed it on the "Brazil-board" and cut the cake in the shape of the country. It was iced in the colors of the Brazillian flag and a replication of the flag was done on top in tiny stars. We wrote Marianna's name on the flag in place of the word that is usually there and Tara presented it to her, a cake that could have fed 36 people, for Marianna's and Dan's own quiet celebration. Yowzers!
I hope Duff from Ace of Cakes is happily busy while I am semi-cake-retired…until the New Year!…Jeanie
I think November-the-fourth was my cousin Diana's birthday. Whether it is or not, every year on the fourth of November, I think a lot about her.
My childhood came to an abrupt halt when we left my birth city of Des Moines when I was 10. We moved across the state where my parents would start a new church and life never felt quite the same to me. Wherever we lived after that, I always felt like a visitor, but was never "home."
But in Des Moines, other than the fact that I was indeed a Pentecostal preacher's daughter, which is a little "different," I did practically live the Leave-it-to-Beaver existance. Dad worked (AND pastored). Mom was at home with a fine apron collection. We lived in a big stucco house on a tree-lined street with an alley in the back, near which we burned our own trash. We created ballerinas from toothpicks and hollyhocks. I walked the few blocks to and from a school where classes began at 9:05 am and dismissed promptly at 3:10 pm. We chased fireflies on summer nights, outside with neighborhood friends way past dark, and our good neighbors would actually buy pretty rocks and shells from us (which we sold from old egg cartons) just to finance our trips to a corner grocery for penny candy.
Geez. I sound like I was born before electricity.
One great thing about my years in Des Moines was living near family. Almost all the grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles and cousins lived nearby. There were lots of impromptu family gatherings. I could walk to Grandma Baker's house. And when I started school, my cousin Diana was there to escort me to Wallace Elementary, where she also attended.
Diana was only about 4 years older than me, but to me she was all-wise and fully mature. Anything she thought or said or did seemed glamorous and exciting. The cool thing about that is that she was not at all bothered by my adoration or hanging on. There was a softness and gentleness in her, a graciousness. She watched over me and out for me.
I remember some girls, Jill and Jacquita, being mean to me one day in the first grade. Usually they were my friends, but for some reason that day they weren't and it was very upsetting. I had had a really bad day and I told Diana the things they had done and said – something I'd never have mentioned to my parents. On the way home those girls ended up in front of us on the sidewalk and I cannot remember what Diana said to them, but whatever it was caused Jacquita, the daughter of my mom's Avon lady, to sit on some one's front stoop and cry. I felt a little bad for her, but I felt totally protected by Diana. The next day, Jill and Jacquita were nice to me again.
I have rarely seen Diana since I married over 26 years ago, or maybe even since she married over 34 years ago. She is a pastor's wife living in Illinois now – a long ways away. Time and space comes between us all. But when I do think of her, and that is often, I remember the ornery twinkle in her eye – she found humor all around. And I recall how she snuck fingernail polish to me when it was forbidden. She was the first person I ever watched fall in love and she let me in on the secrets of life and love. I recall singing a lot with her – she playing the blond-wood piano and singing lead, me belting out the alto ("Lonely road…Calvary's way was a lonely road…"). I remember her as a good and kind cousin and I think of her every November the fourth with great fondness.
A cousin is part sibling, the same blood coursing through your veins, and part best friend. There is the safety of a sibling and the excitement of a person with a whole new perspective and address. A cousin understands where you came from because they came from there, too, in a roundabout way. But they expose you to new things and your parents totally trust them in that.
If Diana's birthday was November 4, I hope it was vey happy.
Love, Jeanie
pictured; My brother Joe recently forwarded this photo of Diana and her husband Tony and their grown children and grandkids to me. I still think she has the kindest eyes.
NOTE TO SELF: Maybe the holidays will be a time to catch up with the cousins…?
This was Guini's "cupcake tower" when she turned 2 in July. Stormie and I just went wild with color and stacked a bunch of dishes, including a martini glass on which to pile the mini-cakes. I know they sell those plastic cupcake holders now, but I hate buying something I will probably never use again. Her party invites had cupcakes on them, so we definitely had a theme going.
So here is the thing. I don’t really like cake and I cannot bake very well (I can bake bread and I can cook at least 3 or 4 fabulous meals, but baking sweets? No.).
Somehow, though, this trend is developing (is it because I am mad about Duff, The Ace of Cakes king???) and here I am, baking cakes and decorating them, by request. I made a joke about Barbie Doll cakes once. My mom’s one experience in trying to become a cake decorator was when a church lady taught her to make a Barbie cake and she made it for my 13th birthday. I hadn’t played with Barbies since I was 4 (because my mom threw them away since they were always lying around naked) and I wasn’t too happy about having to pose with it so I was making jokes about Barbie cakes. But Jovan said, “I want one.”
So she got one. I couldn’t find one with her coloring with blue eyes (Barbies are a very limited breed), but this one had her hair color and skin color and blue eye shadow so it looked the closest.
I wanted a pink gown, but had forgotten that every last drop of red food color went into Hunter’s firetruck a few weeks ago. So I had to use white and blue and green and when Dave came home, he brought red so I could create a few pink flowers and trim.
I used 2 cake mixes, Betty Crocker Funfetti and a couple of recipes of my famous almond-infused buttercream icing. I baked 3- 8″, 1- 6″ layer and used a small stainless steel bowl to bake the little mound for the top. I stacked them with icing in between on a 10″ crystal cake stand then I took a knife and “carved” a skirt from the cake pile.
It turned out to be the easiest to make so far. It was also much smaller than most of the recent cake attempts, but 13 people still ate less than half. I am glad Jovan made me do it. Now I know why my mom felt so proud and why she made me pose with it – as I made Jovan pose with this one!
Ken cake, anyone?…Jeanie
Pictured: Barbie getting her “crumb-coat.” Barbie, rear-side view; front-side view; and Barbie with Jovan, the inspiration.
NOTE TO SELF:If there is a next time, perhaps create an “undergarment” for Barbie so as not to traumatize the children as the dress is cut away.
Check out my Ace of Cakes (www.charmcitycakes.com) obsession and previous cakes here…here…and here…and here. Hmmm…we did a cupcake tower for Guini…who has those photos???
She is a cute girl, I remember thinking, the first time I ever saw Jovan. She was the younger sister of one of Tredessa's good friends and so, for a time, she was known to me as "Carli's sister."
When we finally knew her by her name, Dave and I kept pronouncing it all exotic-like with a soft "G" and a swinging "o" sound: Giovanni. "No, no, no," Rocky and Stormie would chide us. "Jovan." "J" sound. Simple. Pretty. Sweet.
I remember the first time Rocky brought Jovan "home." He had just declared that he was not going to date any girls for 2 full years, so I just thought it was Rocky bringing home a friend from the youth group (Jovan and Stormie hung out a lot). I remember her dazzling smile and her shyness. We spoke briefly as I headed out the door. Later Rocky chided me for not being more friendly to her. I should have known right at that moment that not only was he not going to be able to stick to his no-dating-girls-for-2-years proclamation, but that I'd just come across "the one" right there in my living room and I had failed to give the proper fanfare.
I just didn't know. I always tell Jovan now – I was trying to support his non-dating stance. Otherwise, yes, I'd probably tried to have impressed her.
She is an impressive girl, or I guess I should say "woman." She is just so pretty and has the most exotic eyes (eyelash length: 1.769 inches long). My husband knew right away she was the one for Rocky. I thought they were "just friends" because that is what they kept telling me! However, during a youth group trip to California that summer, their "friendship" grew and when he came home, they spent a lot more time on the phone and he would often tell me he grew in his walk with God just by all the conversations they had. He loved talking with Jovan about the Lord. And he loved telling me about how wonderful those conversations were. I thought something was up, but they were only "friends." Right.
Later that year, having watched them dance and laugh and look into each other's eyes at several weddings, her family invited all of us over for her birthday party. Rocky stayed behind and sometime after midnight, just after Jovan turned 17, he kissed her (he assurred me the other night that it was just a kiss – no making out, as if I were still going to try to ground him for something in 2003???). Let the games begin.
They dated. Then they didn't. I missed Jovan during that time. I went almost a whole year without her around. When she came back to hang with Stormie some more around the holidays, she fit. She just fit.
We'd have these crazy huge parties and Jovan would jump right in for the preparation. She'd string lights and make appetizers and run the vacuum. She even cleaned our bathrooms, God love her! Then she would show up to the party as calm and relaxed as could be, welcoming people in her glittery party dress, helping us host way too many people. She was a charmer.
She loves so much of what I love and always affirmed my family life and traditions. We both love over-the-top entertaining and baking and cooking and decorating. She is very sentimental and appreciated my family photos everywhere and the kid's childhood artwork displayed on my walls instead of the "Christian-y" Thomas Kinkaid prints so popular these days. She has honored me by holding the same things dear that mean the world to me – especially Rocky.
If you have seen Rocky or know him at all, you can imagine he was never a boy that was overlooked by the pretty girls. I saw my main job as he grew into a beautiful young man as swatting off the girls who were not right for him. I will never forget a conversation he and I had not long before he and Jovan had reunited into the relationship that would sweep them into marriage and "one flesh." Rocky was weighing some lonliness he was feeling in spite of the time he was spending in friendships with several different girls (who were all wanting more). He was almost 21, a worship pastor, and he knew he needed to be careful in relationships. I was cutting his hair and we were discussing his pros and cons on a variety of young women. It seemed that everytime he had a reservation about an attribute of a girl, I would say, "Well, you need some one like Jovan who…" whatever it was. Her name just seemed to keep coming up.
I don't know if that day was a revelation to him as much as to me as I suddenly saw Jovan in those moment like this: she loves Rocky. When he is in the room, everyone there knows her attention is on him. She receives from him spiritually and honors him as a man of God. She respects the daylights out of him and though I had seen many a young man try to catch her eye, she never wavered, nor flirted back. She was gracious and set. I could see her loyalty as Rocky and I talked that day. I could see that she was wholeheartedly devoted to him. There was no doublemindedness in her. She didn't throw herself at him. She didn't act goofy. She never chased him down. She just remained loyal, true, and godly and very nice to his family. What more could a mom want for her son? I had finally found the only person who would ever love Rocky more than his mommy.
I didn't tell him that. But he knew, too. Very shortly, he announced that he had chosen Jovan. And there she was again, back in our lives in a very comfortable way. Her cute shoes were kicked off at our door and she spent many weekends making herself part of the Rhoades family. When it became official as they married in September of 2006, the memory that stands out the most is watching Jovan look at Rocky like no one else was there and say her vows to him. And I know she meant every single one. They were not just words. She vowed to my son before God and us all. I was blessed because my son was forever surrounded by her love. And she is ours! She is our new baby girl: Jovan Marie Rhoades (she is the youngest of them all, now). I didn't have to carry her for 9 months, but in a way, I carried her for almost 20 years because I prayed for the girl who would someday be my son's wife. I prayed…and God has given me what I asked for…
Today Jovan is 21. She is still this knock-out-beauty-newlywed. She glows as she carries the life of their first baby girl within. She is what she has been since I first met her: she is sweet and kind, tender and sensitive. She is sentimental and thoughtful. I cherish our scrapbooking times together. I treasure the words of affirmation she has spoken over our family. I love how she adores my son. I thank her for seeing the good and accepting the not-so-good parts of us and for choosing to become a part of us and our traditions and weirdnesses and thinking it is all worth it to have Rocky. I love that the grandkids adore Aunt Jovan and that our scruffy family dog found a friend in her, too. I love that she wanted to marry Rocky since she was 14 and that her quiet charm and smile won him over. I love that Jovan is my daughter and when I walk into a room she makes her way to me with a big hug and honors me as her husband's mother, whether I deserve it or not.
I love you, Jovanie. I do thank God for you. You were born to join us. On that day 21 years ago, you were born to be a Rhoades. You are a part of us. Happy, happy, birthday, wonderful woman. Thank-you for accepting us and loving us. Your imprint on our family is getting deeper and deeper. Someday we'll all be a little less sarcastic and little sweeter because of you…
All my love…mom
NOTE TO SELF: More time scrapbooking and going over family history with Jovan – it lightens my heart, it makes me grateful in a huge way!
Pictured: Jovan and her eyes; all my girls left to right: Jovan, Stormie, Stephanie, Tara, Tredessa; me and Jovan and some huge earrings; Rocky and Jovan in Maui on their honeymoon; Jovan right in the middle of the Rhoades tribe about a month before Gemma was born, 4-07.
The cake was a challenge. I can bake an ok cake – usually. But this one needed some actual structure. Eeks. (See Dave feigning concern, left)
After the 3rd head had fallen off and I was out of cake and had Stormie quickly whipping up a batch of Rice Krispie Treats to fill in (and by the way – if I had it to do over, the main body would be cake, all limbs would be Rice Krispie treats), I cried to Stormie, "What was I thinking? Why did I think I could do this?"
She quickly answered, "I'll tell you why – Ace of Cakes! That's why."
It's true. I am an Ace of Cakes junkie, that's the main guy, Duff, on the left (see http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/show_db ) It is my favorite Food Network show (and by the way, I know one of the Food Network's fabulous cameramen and the next time he gets to shoot Duff and the incredible cake-making team, he's going to get me an autograph written in white chocolate…right, Greg?). Anyway – these TV people are cake makers extraordinaire. They create huge towering buildings and fire trucks and dinosaurs – all out of cake. If something doesn't work out, they scrape it off into the trash. I have to admit I was kinda wanting that experience and I ended up getting it. The first time or two, it felt somewhat wasteful, but by the time I got that last new head and neck on and decorated – scooping off the junk into the trash felt good. It felt very Ace, or maybe Deuce of Cakes.
If Stormie had not been there, I think I'd have crumbled in despair – much like the cake-head kept doing. But we did it – we got it there – 3 cakes mixes, 4 batches of buttercream, chocolate chip toenails and white almond bark tinted some weird color for those pointy things on its back – later… and Gavin loved it and everyone wished that I had done it in Rice Krispies. Geez, people, you have no idea!
Blessings, Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: I think now I could master one of those Barbie-dolls-in-ball-gowns cakes from the early 70's…perhaps a teddy bear, or maybe even Michaelangelo's, David?
Thanks to the young girl who gave birth to you and to the family who stepped in to raise you and make sure you were in the right place at the right time so we could meet and create this life. It may have been a day of mixed emotions for some, the day you were born; there might have been pain, feelings of loss, who knows? But overall, I know heaven was rejoicing just like I am today!
So today, we celebrate you, all of us: me (the wife who loves you so), our 5 grown children, the extra 3 wonderfuls that have come by marriage, these three (almost 4) incredible grandkids. We have no reservation in raucously celebrating your life!
Happy Valentine’s Day, David Allen Rhoades, the love of my life!
You have been a wonderful friend and lover and husband and now an incredible grandfather, too. I sang you a song for Valentine’s Day (click the link below). In retrospect, I should’ve picked something a little easier, perhaps with more like a 3-note range?… I am definately not “up to” a Broadway tune, but it is done now – for all to know:
I will never leave you. I know you too well (through all of life’s stages) to let you go. My head and heart are full of our memories, our life – things no one else can ever share. I love you, Dave.
