I need someone to sew this custom blanket I designed for Archie. Get in on the ground floor of this exciting new invention!
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It’s been 10 years since I had my first January baby. Born at the tip-top of the year, these babies live in layers. Folded blankets anticipate unfurling—thick fleece and flannel cotton, knit yarns and waffle-weaved—all are used. Peel the blanket back to find footed sleepers, snapped askew at 3am, correctly at 3pm. At the core lies the long-sleeved white cotton onesie, the base of the winter baby uniform. Cold air bullies his skin into a mottled pattern of veins and capillaries. He has little fat and sparse hair. Goosebumps don’t rise to flag a sweater down or thermostat up. He is solely reliant on wrappings and well-timed snuggles, efficient and merciful baths and diaper changes, the whim of the wind when we go outside. Hats never fit quite right. They slip down his forehead to cover his eyes, or they are so small they creep up and off in a woven silent moan. My hand cups his head as I nurse him. I kiss his whorled crown often and with a warm exhale when I must put him down. The desire to stay home is enormous, but we have to join the brittle parade up and out and back again. School, shops, doctors are places to hurry inside. Lingering is not an option because winter is when illness is the biggest threat. Indoor crowds include coughs and colds with simple conversation. The winter baby is new when the world seems old. It’s the perfect time of year for a mother to be tired because the elements are tired, too. The sun and I move at the same pace through the day, hesitant at first, perhaps a little muted and muffled by mid-day, retiring early at night. And each day, we shine a minute more. When I first heard the words diaper and cake paired together, my stomach scratched its head. Diapers, in any state, aren’t edible. Cake? Infinitely edible, when done correctly. Diaper cakes? Something for a goat’s birthday or at worst, a cruel joke. It was a few years ago when diaper cakes started appearing at baby showers as centerpieces and gifts. If you aren’t familiar with diaper cakes, they are made from new disposable or cloth diapers, bound together with ribbon to resemble a cake. The diapers are usable, once the cake is disassembled. The cakes can be simple or very ornate, nearing the most intricate and obnoxious wedding cake spied at any of Mariah Carey weddings. Left to my own devices, I’d create a diaper cake like this:
(It’s universally known that I am unable to remove a cake from a pan without it breaking into seven or eight powdery pieces, so I left my diaper cake in the pan as well. Just being consistent.) That’s why nobody has ever asked me to make a baby shower’s diaper cake, and probably why nobody has ever asked me to make a cake. Luckily for moms-to-be and baby shower planners, true diaper-cake artists like Leah exist. She sent a diaper cake to Archie and I was thoroughly amazed by every detail. She owns a business called Diaper Cakewalk. With huge talent and an eye for detail, the Diaper Cakewalk fuzzy confection came out much better than mine:
When it arrived, I was impressed by the solid packing job. Nothing shifted. It was in one beautiful fanlike configuration of Pamper’s Swaddlers wrapped in white tulle, ready to be used as a centerpiece or as a gift. Dotted around the three tiers were sample-sized baby care products, securely attached. A whimsical and super-soft elephant completed the cake effect on a sweet note. My favorite thing about the diaper cake, though, is that every last element is functional and usable. Any mother-to-be would appreciate receiving something so swoony-cute and practical. Often, with baby gift-giving, you have to sacrifice one for the other.
The one noticeable omission? No sprinkles. I love sprinkles on cake. I guess Leah and everyone involved at Diaper Cakewalk figure the baby will take care of that on his or her own. |
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