A couple of weeks ago we celebrated J’s 17th birthday. SEVENTEEN. As in, “My younger–and last born–son is seventeen.” It would be really hard for me to believe if there weren’t a trail of rainbow-colored crumbs all over our family photo albums*. You see, around here birthdays mean one thing: beautifully decorated rainbow cakes (the insides are tinted in various colors). It’s a tradition my mom started, and what I love about it is the thought that goes into it, resulting in the birthday honoree feeling extra special. I remember how creative my mom was with birthday cakes when we were kids. Over the years, she made me a Holly…
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