What’s with the name CIDACAKES?

What’s Cidacakes you ask? Well, I have my brothers to thank.

On my About Me page, you know I have a few siblings. We’re evenly divided 4 girls and 4 boys. I’m surrounded by brothers, Mark is 16 months older, John is almost 2 years younger than me. If there was trouble brewing, I was smack dab in the middle of it.

My brothers loved to tease and harass me, still do. They would call “Cida! Cidacakes!”, “Stop! That’s NOT my name!” back and forth until I was in tears and Dad told the boys to “knock it off.” They grew tired of the game eventually.

Until
My freshman year of college. I was at the same college where my two older sisters had graduated and my two older brothers were still attending. Not my first choice, but we don’t always get what we want, now do we? One day, walking from class I hear across the quad, “Cida! Cidacakes!” Mark was yelling, obviously trying to embarrass me from 100 yards away. He continues to call me Cidacakes. When I got my wisdom teeth pulled during spring break. The dorms were closed. I had the pleasure of sleep on the couch of his garage apartment and him waking me up with “Cida, Cidacakes! I’m home.” This of course was at 2am, when he got home from work bar-backing. Thanks bro.

My junior year I transferred to Xavier, once again not my choice, and joined John there. John by this time had shortened Cidacakes to Cid. I don’t think he calls me by any other name. One day, somebody called me “Cecilia” and one of John’s friends said “that’s not her name, it’s Cid.” Boy, did they feel foolish, when I corrected them!

These days I answer to many names – Cecilia, Mom, Honey, Aunt Cid, Ceci, Celia, Cid, Cida, Cidacakes, the list goes on. Sometimes the names are more flattering than others.

Years ago, Dad came to town to visit, go to a baseball game and dinner. We were talking and he said “one of these days you are going to create a cake, probably with purple icing and call it Cidacakes.”

Dad, this might be it!

Love and miss you.

Cidacakes