Burnt Cupcakes

Today is my daughter's 6th birthday. What should be a happy day, is always somewhat painful for me. We moved recently and I am still getting used to the hang of everything in the new place. I burnt 3 batched of from-scratch cupcakes, which was a first for me. I don't think I have ever been to the store so much in a 2-day period. I joked after I finally succeeded with the 4th batch that these were going to be the worlds most expensive cupcakes. I reminded myself coming back from the store for the 5th time that at least I have a child to celebrate her birthday with. Some mothers are not so lucky. But, despite this, I still broke down after I finally got the fourth batch right and started crying. I haven't stopped nearly an hour later. I don't think my new housemate understood how much I had riding on these being right. My daughter still has a hyper-sensitivity about her birthday after several disappointing birthday parties with her dad where he either failed to show up or caused a scene. For years, she asked me why he did not come to her birthday. She was 3. I don't know that that will ever go away for her. I explained to a friend earlier that while I feel that I have mostly moved on myself and healed, it is harder for me to heal the wounds that have been inflicted on my children. At times, it still feels like there is a gaping hole in my heart that will never heal. I wanted so much for them to have good, stable lives. It's painful to know that no matter what I do, that can not always be their reality. There is still so much residue, and so many things that feel unfair. While I am still the same mother I have always been, I get treated very different as a single mother. I suppose that's another reason that the damned cupcakes seemed so important to me. I could just hear my daughter's teacher making one of her snide remarks. I can almost imagine what she would say. I just wish she would say it to her father for once.