Unbirthday Cake Shenanigans (and the Frosting That Saves the Day)

It’s been a very Lewis Carroll kind of month around here.

We kicked things off with a trip to the Colorado Ballet to see Alice in Wonderland, which sounds magical on paper, right? Top hats! Tweedles! Talking flowers! But full disclosure—it was… fine. I mean, the dancers were great, the costumes were sparkly, but somehow it all felt like watching someone else’s dream where you’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but you’re clapping politely anyway. Ivy leaned over halfway through and whispered, “I think I liked the book better.” And there it is. Out of the mouths of babes.

Speaking of books, Miss Ivy just finished “Through the Looking Glass,” which she took down like it was a mystery thriller. This girl is definitely my kid.  Once she’s reading, don’t bother her because she is BUSY!   

So between the ballet, the bedtime poetry slams, and a week that was, frankly, a whole thing (you know the kind—spilled coffee, computers that hate my guts, one too many booster club emails asking me for money), I decided that we deserved an unbirthday cake.

Reader, I bought it. And I have no regrets.

This was not a week for leveling layers or folding egg whites. This was a week for sprinkles, emotional baking, and frosting that tastes like childhood dreams and sugar-induced bad decisions.

And let me tell you—the frosting is where the magic lives.

I’m talking about that bakery-style frosting. You know the one: creamy, fluffy, perfectly sweet, and with that mysterious “how is this not whipped cream but also not buttercream” quality. It’s the stuff of supermarket birthday cake glory, and it turns your box-mix chaos cake into something positively whimsical.

So if you too are having a week where socks are the enemy, or if your children are reciting Victorian nonsense poetry at the cat, or even if you’re just craving some frosting therapy—please allow me to share this blessing with you.

Bakery-Style Unbirthday Cake Frosting

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temp

• 1 cup vegetable shortening (yep, go full vintage. Trust.)

• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract (the good stuff if you have it)

• ¼ teaspoon almond extract (optional, but highly encouraged for that “mmm what is that?” vibe)

• ¼ teaspoon salt

• 2 lbs (about 7-8 cups) powdered sugar

• ¼ to ½ cup milk or heavy cream (start small, add as needed)

Instructions:

1. Whip it real good.

In a large bowl, beat the butter and shortening together until it’s smooth, fluffy, and the color of buttercream clouds. This is not the time to be shy—let your mixer do its thing for a solid 3-4 minutes. You want air in there. We’re building volume, people.

2. Flavor town.

Add your vanilla, almond extract (if using), and salt. Mix until combined and your kitchen smells like a nostalgic dream.

3. Snowstorm incoming.

Gradually add in the powdered sugar, one cup at a time, mixing on low so you don’t become a sugar ghost. Scrape down the sides occasionally and keep going until it’s all incorporated.

4. Smooth moves.

Slowly drizzle in your milk or cream—start with ¼ cup and add more if needed—until your frosting is at your desired consistency. For a thicker pipe-able frosting, less is more. For that soft, swoopy cloud texture, go for a bit more.

5. Beat it again.

Once everything’s in, crank that mixer back up to high and let it whip for another 3-5 minutes. The longer you whip, the fluffier it gets. Frosting = feelings, so take your time.

Pro Tips:

• This recipe makes a lot of frosting. Which, let’s be honest, is the correct amount. But if you’re frosting something smaller or just want to eat it with a spoon in the dark (no judgment), you can halve it.

• Add food coloring if you want to get wild—pastel pinks and blues were very on theme for our topsy-turvy adventure.

• Don’t skip the almond extract if you can help it. It’s the tiny drop of madness that makes it feel bakery-official.

So there we were—me, Ivy, an aggressively frosted funfetti cake, and an afternoon that was suddenly a lot more delightful. We put candles on it for absolutely no reason. We sang “A Very Merry Unbirthday” loudly and off-key. We ate cake in the middle of the day with zero regard for meal timing or sugar crashes.

And it was perfect.

Because sometimes, the best celebrations are the ones you didn’t plan. The ones that show up at the end of a tough week like a grinning Cheshire cat, offering you a slice of joy and a reminder that nonsense has its place.

So if you need permission to make an unbirthday cake, here it is. Make it weird. Make it colorful. Make it from a box if you must—but make that frosting.

You never need a reason to bake something joyful. But if you do want one, just tell everyone it’s your unbirthday.

They’ll probably look at you like you’ve gone mad.

But as we know—all the best people are.