Once -- and only once -- Mom tried to host a birthday party for me. One of those "real" birthday parties with invitations, a theme, special games, the works.
A girl whose mom thought we should be best friends was invited, which was unfortunate for all because she was older than us by a few years, and I don't think she had a second of fun at the party.
Yeah, you totally can't tell which girl I'm talking about or anything.
This is the pre-party "I just spent 2 hours getting this together and I want to document it before those damn kids come over and ruin everything" photo by mom:
Check out that awesome paneling! Too bad that tablecloth is there, you're missing the lovely 1960s goldenrod kitchen set we had. Flecked formica, chrome details, matching goldenrod padded chairs. All of dad's 1960s bachelor furniture became our family furniture, and he had a thing for goldenrod, I guess. Everything was goldenrod. That's how dad decorated, he kept everything one color. It all matches! Yaaaay!
The theme for this wild
Now, Mom did go to significant effort for the party. She bought a set of clown-themed invites, hats, plates, and games -- "Pin the Nose on the Clown" was the hit of the afternoon, even with the older girl -- and some special small loaf pans to make individual train cars with. The cake in all its Polaroid glory:
The problem was that Mom had no patience for kids. I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you that Mom bitched for years about this party, as well as a few other occasions when I was allowed to have friends over. And those special pans she bought for this train cake? Oh lord. Every time she saw those pans over the years she would loudly sigh about what a waste of money they were and what a terrible party this was. Basically, I have no positive memories of this party.
Speaking of memories, my memory is apparently faulty about this bunny cake:
Pink knives for ears and angry red jellybeans for eyes! Evil bunny!
This is the photo that has been in the family album since about 1976, and my memory has always been that a neighbor gave me this cake for Easter one year.
Note that I didn't get knives for ears. Dammit.
Now that I've found this recipe card, though, I wonder if Mom made it? It doesn't seem like the kind of thing she would do. But I love how, once again, this card doesn't have a recipe, just an idea about inviting kids over to dye Easter eggs. The tips on shaping a cake into a bunny are kind of handy, though.
I hope you've enjoyed this little slice of the 70s in action! Me, I'm a little horrified by all the brown and brown-based yellows of the 1970s. Even the blues look brown.
Interested in all the scans I did of weird recipe cards? Click the tab on the sidebar labeled "the 70s beat up my grandma and pantsed my dad" to see 'em all.