Birthday paloozah is doing a number on me. Every two weeks, we need a cake and presents and to possibly plan a party. My brain is fried, or would be if it weren't already overstuffed with cake. Two down...three to go...Easter will be in there somewhere. It's a good thing we're fasting in the meantime.
Because I've done birthdays for children of all ages for the past two and a half decades, I've learned a few things along the way. As always, advice is maybe not even worth what you pay, and since blogging is free, that frees me up to make errors and pass them off as hard earned wisdom.
However, my rules of birthdays might help to make celebrating of your children's birth both festive and less stressful/taxing on you.
10 Tips for Making a Happy Birthday for All
First off, I believe in partying. I enjoy birthdays. I like cake. I like celebrating. I Love the Birthday Book by Dr. Seus, and think all birthdays should have no work or school, and cake should be served. That being said, I also know, enthusiasm and inexperience sometimes take over and complicate what should be fun and simple...so here's to making your life less difficult while still having serious fun.
10) Is the child not yet in pre-school or any school? If not, enjoy a family birthday. Take pictures, make a fancy cake. Invite over grandparents, godparents and siblings...sing and eat. Life is good. Note...it's an easy party. The kid likes boxes even more than the toys.
9) Kid's in pre-school. Again, don't complicate matters. Children this age enjoy McDonald's and think going there is a grand event, as is the park, the community pool, and the quarter arcade at the mall. Pick the three best friends whose moms you don't mind having around, and invite for a birthday at a place they can seriously play. If it's a park...bring the picnic. Cupcakes, songs, paper hats and blowers, bubbles and stickers and you're good.
8) The kid is in kindergarten. Now we get to the parties that get talked about...so here's the home party time. Pin the tail on the --it doesn't have to be a donkey. It can be a dragon or a unicorn or whatever animal the kid is into (as long as it has a tail long enough to make it work. Although, one time I drew a chameleon for a birthday party, and we pinned the fly on the tongue...so be creative). So to the parent of the kid who likes bears...do pin the nose on the bear...and the one who likes sheep...I don't know what you do there. Introduce the kid to other animals. To the one who likes pigs or spiders, Charlotte's web and pinning the spider on the web makes a handy game, and looks literary and intellectual too.
7) The rule I learned is one kid per year...but these days, people feel very guilty if they don't invite everyone. However, I think the primary goal of any party, is to celebrate the kid and not break the wallet or spirit of the parents. So I hold to the rule. It works and so far, none of my children have written manifestos about my evil parenting. But back to the games. Musical chairs is another favorite...again it's only set up, no cost. The third game we almost always play is freeze dance. Everyone wiggles. Most of the time, only adults get called out. Memo to parents. You're always it, and you always get caught. It means everyone wins and it makes life easy. Simon says and Redlight Green Light if you're in need of extra time while someone is finishing up frosting the cake.
6) The kid is in 1st thru 3rd grade. If you've got a late spring or early fall baby, you've got good weather. If you've got a summer kid, no one is around. If you've got a winter kid, the party always has to be some place. Mental note: Mix it up. The spring and fall kiddos envy the bowling parties and the mini-golf and the pizza night. The winter kid longs for a sports oriented event or some place they can swim or run...this is the challenge of little human beings. They haven't come to accept they can't have something unreasonable simply because they want it. Come to think of it, neither have I.
5) 4th-6th graders...if there's a good movie, take it. If there's not a good movie, talk to your pizza guy and see if they'll let him and five of his buds make pizzas and pour root beer into mugs. Call the indoor pool facility and prepare to suit up. I've learned that a bowling party, however cliche, is always easy and always fun. You just learn to set yourself up against everyone else and trash talk until they skunk you (which they will). Party --one gender, all of them. It's still cake, juice boxes and a bag or two of chips for the food of the ordinary party.
4) 5th --9th grade... We'll play tag football, capture the flag, have magic tournaments, play risk, we'll go to an arcade and use all the quarters...the trick is to play with them, and somehow, that helps them to enjoy playing. I serve a piecaken, which is a mutant dessert of all desserts, pie inside of a cake, frosted, and served with ice cream. It dares you to eat it if you're not 13...but it's good, it's insane and adolescent parties need that touch of madness they didn't think of, to be successful.
3) You'll notice, there are no sleep overs. There's a reason. I don't believe in sleep overs if I can avoid them. No one sleeps and somehow, no matter how much you supervise, someone gets their feelings hurt. Kids need breaks and sleepovers allow for no graceful exits. As such, I do pizza poker parties or nail salons spa parties, I'll give you three hours of fun with rootbeer floats that rival Snoopy's in the French taverns on the funny papers, but go home. Adolescents and adults, everyone does better when parties...end.
2) A word about gift bags. They've become quite the costly endeavor in recent years --at least where I live. My formula for a gift bag is simple. Brown paper bag containing pencil, note pad, chocolate bar, ring pop, and a glow stick. It should be folded over and stapled shut with "Thank you for coming to my party!" --name written in marker by your child on it. Do not put personal names. You will spend the end of the party tracking people down and going crazy.
1) Always have a gift on the day for the birthday kid. Even if it's a little something. Even if you already threw the party. Even if you already had the family party. Always have something.
I'll let you know what I learn in the next twenty-six years of celebrating birthdays...in the meantime, Happy Birthday Faith! It's hard to believe today, you're seventeen.
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthdays. Show all posts
Monday, April 1, 2019
Monday, March 31, 2014
7 Quick Takes on Monday...
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Get hopping already!
2. We've had such a cold spring, yesterday it hailed and snowed. My daughter and I attended a Mother/Graduating Class tea at her school. It was so cold outside, I drank three cups of hot tea just because it kept me sitting in the warm building touching a hot tea cup, I don't even like tea. My daughter found her friends and so I sat. It gave me some quiet time, time I admit, I've been craving. It lets me think. The tendency in grief is to keep so busy you don't think. I have to work against that natural predisposition.
3. On Friday, I got my hair done. I didn't get the stylist I prefer, and so my hair is a monotone. My youngest said, "Mom, your hair looks weird." and she patted it. Others said it looked nice, but I look in the mirror, I see weird.
4. Saturday, there was a job fair. I went. Getting back into the swing of things will require looking, so I went mostly to look. Interviewing at a few schools, I found some administrators were interested. I still have to get my GRE scores if I can so as to avoid taking a standardized test as part of the re-certification process. Everyday I'm inching forward, but it is slow progress.
Not yet.
6. Bob
Part of my distraction is the nature of my life. On Friday, my teen son came down the stairs with a twinkle in his eye, he was calling everyone Bob. Most understood this to be a tease and ignored it, but Paul took the name change seriously and got very angry. In a three word response, he declared under no uncertain terms, "I'M NOT BOB!" So I congratulated my older son on getting him to talk using what teachers call an adverse technique. "Congratulations." I said, "Now, don't do it again."
7. We are hitting the mid point of Birthday Palosa, with a 12 year old tomorrow. She wants her ears pierced and to see Winter Soldier. I'm handling the first part of the equation, Dad's handling the later this weekend. She's also taken to doing the dishes each night unasked. It is a warm freely given gift, very much illustrative of the person she's becoming. That reminds me to get some brownie mix so I can make a treat for her class tomorrow. Happy Birthday to my dear Faith! It's been a fast 12 years.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Glimpses of Heaven
Sitting around the table after singing "Happy Birthday," someone asked my daughter what her favorite point of the day had been. She looked around and talked about going to the baseball game with her father. I looked about and my favorite moment was that one, with everyone around the table. Even on Easter, we hadn't quite captured the knowing moment of being together, despite going to mass, despite breakfast lunch and dinner. Today, Easter Monday, for a moment, we caught the experience of being at the wedding feast, when all whether eating or not, were present to each other.
Then someone asked for milk and another, a fork, a text message came which demanded an immediate response, one child vanished to the basement with her kindle while another two raced to finish the video game they'd paused and the birthday girl finished her cake and asked to go plunge back into her new book. The babies needed washing and the moment of communion over pink cake and candles fell into memory, blanketed over by the need to get one back to school, to do the dishes, to fold the laundry, to organize, to clean up the crumbs and keep moving.
If Catholics need a reason for weekly mass, it is that we live in an age that seems forever on the edge of dissolving into permanent rage. The Internet especially trades on the commodity of outrage that can never be resolved or absolved. Any pockets of peace or tranquility have a singular quality to them, they are unique to the moment, to the post, to the writer or the reader. Rage against the other side. Rage against the rich. Rage against those in power. Rage over what we do not have. Rage against what others do or do not do. Rage against what is being demanded or not.
Top that with the demand for instant access to our brains via emails and cell phones, i-pads and blackberries and we live in a busy busy angry exhausting world. Carving out an hour, where we only need be present, we only need come with our needs, our wants, ourselves and all we love, seems like so very little for God to ask. Especially when doing so, would give us His peace even if we're stuck in the cry room with two children who have perfected the art of being both dead weight and oddly boneless while screaming. It is sufficient, God counts if we show up, if we are present, if we come to the table.
But we're busy crazy forgetful creatures, so he gives us moments to remind us, like sunsets, early spring flowers, snow falling and those few minutes after the cake.
And I think to myself, it's a good thing we have 12 birthdays to celebrate, we will perhaps be able to experience a few more slivers of what it is to be in Heaven and remember that the goal of this life is not to die tired and busy, but to be still and live presently.
Then someone asked for milk and another, a fork, a text message came which demanded an immediate response, one child vanished to the basement with her kindle while another two raced to finish the video game they'd paused and the birthday girl finished her cake and asked to go plunge back into her new book. The babies needed washing and the moment of communion over pink cake and candles fell into memory, blanketed over by the need to get one back to school, to do the dishes, to fold the laundry, to organize, to clean up the crumbs and keep moving.
If Catholics need a reason for weekly mass, it is that we live in an age that seems forever on the edge of dissolving into permanent rage. The Internet especially trades on the commodity of outrage that can never be resolved or absolved. Any pockets of peace or tranquility have a singular quality to them, they are unique to the moment, to the post, to the writer or the reader. Rage against the other side. Rage against the rich. Rage against those in power. Rage over what we do not have. Rage against what others do or do not do. Rage against what is being demanded or not.
Top that with the demand for instant access to our brains via emails and cell phones, i-pads and blackberries and we live in a busy busy angry exhausting world. Carving out an hour, where we only need be present, we only need come with our needs, our wants, ourselves and all we love, seems like so very little for God to ask. Especially when doing so, would give us His peace even if we're stuck in the cry room with two children who have perfected the art of being both dead weight and oddly boneless while screaming. It is sufficient, God counts if we show up, if we are present, if we come to the table.
But we're busy crazy forgetful creatures, so he gives us moments to remind us, like sunsets, early spring flowers, snow falling and those few minutes after the cake.
And I think to myself, it's a good thing we have 12 birthdays to celebrate, we will perhaps be able to experience a few more slivers of what it is to be in Heaven and remember that the goal of this life is not to die tired and busy, but to be still and live presently.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Cupcake Wars
I've been working on being more present to my children. I've read stories individually, forced myself to stop working after 9:00 am to sit with my daughter and play whatever she wants until 10 and in the evening, to try and involve one or two with making dinner and let it be fun. It's not always easy. I keep discovering all the ways in which I've tried to be efficient and as such, closed myself off. Opening up those closed efficient ways is not painful, but it is an act of the will. With a triple birthday party in the works, it was very tempting to return to my ordinary ways.
To have enough cupcakes when one wanted strawberry, another chocolate and a third vanilla, meant four boxes of cake. I made one of lemon just to add variety. We made 77 cupcakes in about 4 hours. But the issue was frosting.
Now my kids watch Cupcake Wars. It's one of their favorites.
So presentation mattered. It was like having Florian in the kitchen.
"You should put butterflies."
"Flowers."
"Sprinkles."
"Strawberries."
But they also wanted to help.
So I told myself to let it happen.
I even walked away to let them be about the business of frosting. It was not easy. Eventually it was my turn, and I got to show off my skills with the frosting tube. But the strawberries with their acid started melting the frosting. I could hear judge Candace Nelson explaining that I should have coated the cakes with more frosting to give a cushion between the cake and the berries. The sprinkles didn't stick to the cake and I found myself pushing the jimmies into the white cream. I'd be out before the first round.
But that was a minor skirmish. One of my children, I suspect just to be contrary, does not like frosting. Not a lick. Ergo, his cupcakes must be naked. This was not his birthday, so I opted to only designate one or two that would fit his desires. But of course, he took pink ones and this upset the girl whose party it is, and who wanted pink cupcakes. She felt her birthday allotment of joy was being infringed upon because she only had 16 cakes, not 18. The plain upon thars cake eater grinned in triumph. Out in the second round too for presentation.
How do you parent a child to stop wilfully seeking to tork off his sister when you're reduced to stop grinning evilly and don't take only your sister's cupcakes? You distract and delegate to help move the volatile situation along. "Go outside. Ride your bike." or you divert. "Go play the wii." or you delegate, "Have you finished your homework?" "Did you make your bed?" anything to come up with something either necessary or more enticing than the golden glow of seeing one's sister miserable. I can see him thinking about it, but not making a move away. Sibling rivalry is hard. It is a shiny red apple, as compelling as sin.
But since we had cupcakes, I handed him a chocolate and a vanilla. We'd made 77. So what's two less?
"Take these two. Now shoo."
The cupcakes survived the party survived and the siblings survived and I survived. I'm keeping a stash of unfrosted cupcakes in reserve for future distractions. I may create a display to represent the peace I'm seeking, a monument to the no fight zone I'd like to make my home.
Now where are my 10,000 dollars?
To have enough cupcakes when one wanted strawberry, another chocolate and a third vanilla, meant four boxes of cake. I made one of lemon just to add variety. We made 77 cupcakes in about 4 hours. But the issue was frosting.
Now my kids watch Cupcake Wars. It's one of their favorites.
So presentation mattered. It was like having Florian in the kitchen.
"You should put butterflies."
"Flowers."
"Sprinkles."
"Strawberries."
But they also wanted to help.
So I told myself to let it happen.
I even walked away to let them be about the business of frosting. It was not easy. Eventually it was my turn, and I got to show off my skills with the frosting tube. But the strawberries with their acid started melting the frosting. I could hear judge Candace Nelson explaining that I should have coated the cakes with more frosting to give a cushion between the cake and the berries. The sprinkles didn't stick to the cake and I found myself pushing the jimmies into the white cream. I'd be out before the first round.
But that was a minor skirmish. One of my children, I suspect just to be contrary, does not like frosting. Not a lick. Ergo, his cupcakes must be naked. This was not his birthday, so I opted to only designate one or two that would fit his desires. But of course, he took pink ones and this upset the girl whose party it is, and who wanted pink cupcakes. She felt her birthday allotment of joy was being infringed upon because she only had 16 cakes, not 18. The plain upon thars cake eater grinned in triumph. Out in the second round too for presentation.
How do you parent a child to stop wilfully seeking to tork off his sister when you're reduced to stop grinning evilly and don't take only your sister's cupcakes? You distract and delegate to help move the volatile situation along. "Go outside. Ride your bike." or you divert. "Go play the wii." or you delegate, "Have you finished your homework?" "Did you make your bed?" anything to come up with something either necessary or more enticing than the golden glow of seeing one's sister miserable. I can see him thinking about it, but not making a move away. Sibling rivalry is hard. It is a shiny red apple, as compelling as sin.
But since we had cupcakes, I handed him a chocolate and a vanilla. We'd made 77. So what's two less?
"Take these two. Now shoo."
The cupcakes survived the party survived and the siblings survived and I survived. I'm keeping a stash of unfrosted cupcakes in reserve for future distractions. I may create a display to represent the peace I'm seeking, a monument to the no fight zone I'd like to make my home.
Now where are my 10,000 dollars?
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Time of My Life
Two weeks ago, my son received what for him at the tender age of seven, is the epitome of joy, a birthday invitation from one of his best friends to one of his favorite places to celebrate. Every day since has been like a glimpse into life at NASA before a shuttle launch.
May 2 Breakfast: Hey Mom! It's Monday so that means I have 13 more days until my friend's party. I can't wait. We should get a present. I've picked out my outfit. Will you wrap the present? Can I go shopping today after school to get the present? I have my own money.
May 3 Breakfast: Mom! We didn't go to the store yesterday. There are only 12 days left and I don't want to pick the wrong thing because I'm rushed. I located the wrapping paper but we need tape. I'm so excited I can't wait! But I had to change my outfit for the party because my brother stepped on it and left a shoe print.
May 4 After school in the car: Can we go to Toys R Us? Borders? Target? How about now? It's getting closer and how many more days? Oh yeah, I need to shop for Mother's day too. Did you get tape?
May 5th Bedtime: MOM! MOM! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! I CAN'T FIND THE INVITATION! What if you forget about the party???? And I still need to go shopping. Oh. I found duct tape if you need it, it's blue.
May 6th: Yes! We're going shopping. Get to store. Mom? We can't go shopping. I forgot my Toys R Us coupon and my gift certificate. Refuses to pick out something in a fit of determined frugalness. Son does not understand the cost to parent of NOT shelling out the ten bucks while on the premises.
May 7th: Sister's birthday. Son sighs audibly during cake singing time. It's still a week away to my friend's party. Perks up when I present him with clear adhesive tape and wrapping paper that says, "Happy Birthday."
May 8th: Mom? MOM! Mom! I think a good mother's day present would be to take me to get my friend's present.
May 9th, Monday of the party week: How many hours? I think I wore my outfit I'd picked out so you'll have to wash it or I have to get another. Also, I think I used up the tape you gave me on a project yesterday.
May 10th: Mom! Thanks for bringing the coupon and gift certificate. His older sister takes him into store. He returns five minutes later with a Sponge Bob book and slightly sad. "This was the only thing I saw I think he'd like." he explains. Sister volunteers, "He kept picking out things that cost 30 dollars."
May 11th: Total insanity ensues as a second invitation to the same place the day before the anticipated party is issued. Only 12 hours if you don't count sleeping. Only twenty if you do. Mom! We need a present! And I need TWO outfits because I don't want to wear the same thing to the same place for two different parties.
May 12th: Breakfast 7:32 a.m. After consulting with his sister for the math, "Only 9 hours and 28 minutes to my party!" I wrap Sponge Bob.
8:17 a.m. Hey Mom! How many hours and minutes now?
8:55 a.m. How about now?
9:02 a.m. I'm Really Really Really excited about this party.
Mom: "Here." I put the timer on for the 8 hours and 28 minutes before I will be willing to get in the car. He sits worshipfully looking at the timer for a while, watching the minutes tick by. Seized by the fear of being late, he dresses all the way to socks and shoes and a rain coat --it's misting outside, and refuses to take it off even for lunch.
The buzzer goes off. He has my shoes, keys, purse and phone waiting for me, while he's also clutching his present that we got for him on Friday for this classmate. In the car. Mom? This car's clock is two minutes fast so you really have 17 minutes, not 15 to get to my party. There is traffic. The magic time of 5:00 comes and goes and we still have not made the turn into the parking lot.
Well, I guess it's okay if I'm one minute late. Maybe the clocks at the party are two minutes slow and I'll still be on time. I guess it's okay if we're two mintues..three...four...Mom? I missed the turn. We arrive. He rushes in and I don't see him until he comes home with his friend. "IT WAS GREAT! AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S THE BEST THING? Only...18 and a half hours until my next party!
How did you figure that out? I asked my friend's dad.
Today, first thing in the morning. Hey Mom! How many hours until the party?
Mental note for me, hide all invitations in the future until the day of. Maybe the 1/2 hour before when I'm loading the car.
Realty based Bonus: The second party? The one that started this countdown? We went to the place for the 2 o'clock shebang. It's next week. We were to RSVP by yesterday. Well, at least next Sunday, we'll be ready.
May 2 Breakfast: Hey Mom! It's Monday so that means I have 13 more days until my friend's party. I can't wait. We should get a present. I've picked out my outfit. Will you wrap the present? Can I go shopping today after school to get the present? I have my own money.
May 3 Breakfast: Mom! We didn't go to the store yesterday. There are only 12 days left and I don't want to pick the wrong thing because I'm rushed. I located the wrapping paper but we need tape. I'm so excited I can't wait! But I had to change my outfit for the party because my brother stepped on it and left a shoe print.
May 4 After school in the car: Can we go to Toys R Us? Borders? Target? How about now? It's getting closer and how many more days? Oh yeah, I need to shop for Mother's day too. Did you get tape?
May 5th Bedtime: MOM! MOM! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! I CAN'T FIND THE INVITATION! What if you forget about the party???? And I still need to go shopping. Oh. I found duct tape if you need it, it's blue.
May 6th: Yes! We're going shopping. Get to store. Mom? We can't go shopping. I forgot my Toys R Us coupon and my gift certificate. Refuses to pick out something in a fit of determined frugalness. Son does not understand the cost to parent of NOT shelling out the ten bucks while on the premises.
May 7th: Sister's birthday. Son sighs audibly during cake singing time. It's still a week away to my friend's party. Perks up when I present him with clear adhesive tape and wrapping paper that says, "Happy Birthday."
May 8th: Mom? MOM! Mom! I think a good mother's day present would be to take me to get my friend's present.
May 9th, Monday of the party week: How many hours? I think I wore my outfit I'd picked out so you'll have to wash it or I have to get another. Also, I think I used up the tape you gave me on a project yesterday.
May 10th: Mom! Thanks for bringing the coupon and gift certificate. His older sister takes him into store. He returns five minutes later with a Sponge Bob book and slightly sad. "This was the only thing I saw I think he'd like." he explains. Sister volunteers, "He kept picking out things that cost 30 dollars."
May 11th: Total insanity ensues as a second invitation to the same place the day before the anticipated party is issued. Only 12 hours if you don't count sleeping. Only twenty if you do. Mom! We need a present! And I need TWO outfits because I don't want to wear the same thing to the same place for two different parties.
May 12th: Breakfast 7:32 a.m. After consulting with his sister for the math, "Only 9 hours and 28 minutes to my party!" I wrap Sponge Bob.
8:17 a.m. Hey Mom! How many hours and minutes now?
8:55 a.m. How about now?
9:02 a.m. I'm Really Really Really excited about this party.
Mom: "Here." I put the timer on for the 8 hours and 28 minutes before I will be willing to get in the car. He sits worshipfully looking at the timer for a while, watching the minutes tick by. Seized by the fear of being late, he dresses all the way to socks and shoes and a rain coat --it's misting outside, and refuses to take it off even for lunch.
The buzzer goes off. He has my shoes, keys, purse and phone waiting for me, while he's also clutching his present that we got for him on Friday for this classmate. In the car. Mom? This car's clock is two minutes fast so you really have 17 minutes, not 15 to get to my party. There is traffic. The magic time of 5:00 comes and goes and we still have not made the turn into the parking lot.
Well, I guess it's okay if I'm one minute late. Maybe the clocks at the party are two minutes slow and I'll still be on time. I guess it's okay if we're two mintues..three...four...Mom? I missed the turn. We arrive. He rushes in and I don't see him until he comes home with his friend. "IT WAS GREAT! AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S THE BEST THING? Only...18 and a half hours until my next party!
How did you figure that out? I asked my friend's dad.
Today, first thing in the morning. Hey Mom! How many hours until the party?
Mental note for me, hide all invitations in the future until the day of. Maybe the 1/2 hour before when I'm loading the car.
Realty based Bonus: The second party? The one that started this countdown? We went to the place for the 2 o'clock shebang. It's next week. We were to RSVP by yesterday. Well, at least next Sunday, we'll be ready.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Street Rules for Skateboards
This past Friday, my son turned eleven. We temporarily suspended our over protective natures and bought him a coming of age present, a skateboard. It's pretty cool. It's red and steel and sparks when you lift up the front. We'd souped him up with elbow, knee and wrist pads and a helmet and I'd given strict rules about not being unafraid to fall, to not go near the street and to take it easy.
After an hour of willingly wilting in the heat, I felt I'd chaperoned enough and allowed him to continue sans my presence. Within fifteen minutes, my four year old came in and announced, "My brother is going to die." I asked why. "He's on a skateboard, it's dangerous true but I don't think..." She shook her head, "He's going to fly down into the street and be hit by a car." I looked out and saw my son, his face glowing with pleasure, skating around the flat safe part of our driveway. "It's really nice that you're so concerned about your brother." I started.
"If he goes to the hospital, we won't get cake."
"Well, we'd bring him cake if he got hurt but I don't think you need to worry about that." My son came into the house and poured himself some ice water, his eyes were alight with the triumph of being the boy with the birthday having received his heart's desire. "You know what's really fun Mom?"
"No, what?" I was enjoying this experience of a happy eleven year old child.
"Riding down the hill face first."
...
Okay, so maybe my four year old wasn't exaggerating after all. I made a mental note to give her an extra big slice of cake.
Now I know rules often get drowned out so I employed the Socratic method. "If you had to stop, what would hit the street first?" I asked.
"My face?"
I nodded.
I told him I'd get him a mouth guard tomorrow and he added a new skateboarding rule. No Skeleton runs.
After an hour of willingly wilting in the heat, I felt I'd chaperoned enough and allowed him to continue sans my presence. Within fifteen minutes, my four year old came in and announced, "My brother is going to die." I asked why. "He's on a skateboard, it's dangerous true but I don't think..." She shook her head, "He's going to fly down into the street and be hit by a car." I looked out and saw my son, his face glowing with pleasure, skating around the flat safe part of our driveway. "It's really nice that you're so concerned about your brother." I started.
"If he goes to the hospital, we won't get cake."
"Well, we'd bring him cake if he got hurt but I don't think you need to worry about that." My son came into the house and poured himself some ice water, his eyes were alight with the triumph of being the boy with the birthday having received his heart's desire. "You know what's really fun Mom?"
"No, what?" I was enjoying this experience of a happy eleven year old child.
"Riding down the hill face first."
...
Okay, so maybe my four year old wasn't exaggerating after all. I made a mental note to give her an extra big slice of cake.
Now I know rules often get drowned out so I employed the Socratic method. "If you had to stop, what would hit the street first?" I asked.
"My face?"
I nodded.
I told him I'd get him a mouth guard tomorrow and he added a new skateboarding rule. No Skeleton runs.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Survival of the Dullest
It’s summer. We’re going on vacation and once again, it’s near my birthday. Every year I suffer from the annual temptation to prove I’m just as big an idiot as I sometimes know that I am.
On my thirty ninth birthday, we went to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. My husband and I took turns staring at the Top Thrill Dragster, a 420 foot high monster that essentially launched its cars and halpless passengers with air craft carrier type precision. We’d take the kids to the mini coaster and the log flume and come back to stare. We got food and drinks and took in a show but we came back just to look. At some moment, we became desensitized to the fear factor and began to mention the idea of each of us having a go. We’d laugh and demand to know who was going first. The danger point was when we were walking back from the haunted house. My husband noticed, “The line’s not that long.” The ride had suffered a malfunction and so people had cleared out. I’d just worked up the nerve to get in line when we discovered, the car with people in it was stuck suspended 374 feet up and just now getting freed to come back down. Cowardice or sanity, take your pick, it prevailed and I did not proclaim my foolishness or temporarily gain back my youth by defying death as a result.
At 40, my annual danger lust sought again to be sated when the local sporting goods store put up a climbing wall. I so wanted to climb it but I was six months pregnant and even extreme sporting good stores it seems, have limits. My husband breathed a sigh of relief. I told him I’d be back next year but the place closed that part of the store down for some reason. At 42, I got roller blades. Nuff said.
My desire for something beyond the ordinary occasionally allows me to sometimes impress my children, like when I dive off the high dive or do stand up. Weirding them out I think is an equally desired reaction. It has also resulted in the occasional trip to the emergency room, like after I tried to do the monkey bars at 32. However my carefree spirit conflicts with my equally natural maternal instincts which scream No! when my sons or daughters propose engaging in reckless activity like wanting to take the metro to downtown DC to catch a movie, biking to the 7-11 for ice cream or proposing a roadtrip with friends to California after graduation.
The “AHhhhhhhhh are you NUTS?” gene activates and their somewhat show-offy daredevil mom becomes the safety first and always and only mommy. Regardless of my own predilections to court danger, I’m not about to oblige my children’s wilder sides. Why not? Because I'm the Mommy that's why. Because I like their insides inside of them and their outsides just the way they are. They can risk their necks once they’re middle aged like me and they’re someone else’s worry.
This year, we’re going to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee for a family reunion. Our family has vacationed here before. When last we visited, there was a pending attraction, the Zorb. For the uninitiated, Zorb is the latest import from New Zealand designed to kill off much of the existing population between the ages of 11 and well, I’m turning 44. It has the added bonus of being legal. The Zorbonaut or victim (take your pick), is strapped into a plastic clear globe inside of another plastic clear globe. For variety’s sake, you can opt for a wet or dry Zorb run. The wet one has the added bonus of water in the outside globe and being shot down one of two water flume tracks so the rolling and drowning occur within a controlled setting. In the dry scenario, you add the bonus of random gravity as you are thrown down a cliff/hill and left to bounce until you stop or die whichever comes first. I can readily attest to the absolute idiocy of paying to potentially die, drown, become a broken pile of bones or paralyzed in the name of fun. I must also concede the siren like call of this thrill ride is not without appeal.
In the meantime, my shrewd husband uses my dual nature to his advantage and my long term viability. In planning for this trip, having seen my eyes gleam as I mentioned, “Zorb is up and running,” and in an effort to make sure he isn’t suddenly a widower with nine children, he’s shown the promos from the web for Zorb to my oldest four. They all now desperately want to go. That sly dog just guaranteed I’ll be pool side reading books the whole week even if my life insurance is paid up. It just goes to show, you marry what you need and the species survives.
On my thirty ninth birthday, we went to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. My husband and I took turns staring at the Top Thrill Dragster, a 420 foot high monster that essentially launched its cars and halpless passengers with air craft carrier type precision. We’d take the kids to the mini coaster and the log flume and come back to stare. We got food and drinks and took in a show but we came back just to look. At some moment, we became desensitized to the fear factor and began to mention the idea of each of us having a go. We’d laugh and demand to know who was going first. The danger point was when we were walking back from the haunted house. My husband noticed, “The line’s not that long.” The ride had suffered a malfunction and so people had cleared out. I’d just worked up the nerve to get in line when we discovered, the car with people in it was stuck suspended 374 feet up and just now getting freed to come back down. Cowardice or sanity, take your pick, it prevailed and I did not proclaim my foolishness or temporarily gain back my youth by defying death as a result.
At 40, my annual danger lust sought again to be sated when the local sporting goods store put up a climbing wall. I so wanted to climb it but I was six months pregnant and even extreme sporting good stores it seems, have limits. My husband breathed a sigh of relief. I told him I’d be back next year but the place closed that part of the store down for some reason. At 42, I got roller blades. Nuff said.
My desire for something beyond the ordinary occasionally allows me to sometimes impress my children, like when I dive off the high dive or do stand up. Weirding them out I think is an equally desired reaction. It has also resulted in the occasional trip to the emergency room, like after I tried to do the monkey bars at 32. However my carefree spirit conflicts with my equally natural maternal instincts which scream No! when my sons or daughters propose engaging in reckless activity like wanting to take the metro to downtown DC to catch a movie, biking to the 7-11 for ice cream or proposing a roadtrip with friends to California after graduation.
The “AHhhhhhhhh are you NUTS?” gene activates and their somewhat show-offy daredevil mom becomes the safety first and always and only mommy. Regardless of my own predilections to court danger, I’m not about to oblige my children’s wilder sides. Why not? Because I'm the Mommy that's why. Because I like their insides inside of them and their outsides just the way they are. They can risk their necks once they’re middle aged like me and they’re someone else’s worry.
This year, we’re going to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee for a family reunion. Our family has vacationed here before. When last we visited, there was a pending attraction, the Zorb. For the uninitiated, Zorb is the latest import from New Zealand designed to kill off much of the existing population between the ages of 11 and well, I’m turning 44. It has the added bonus of being legal. The Zorbonaut or victim (take your pick), is strapped into a plastic clear globe inside of another plastic clear globe. For variety’s sake, you can opt for a wet or dry Zorb run. The wet one has the added bonus of water in the outside globe and being shot down one of two water flume tracks so the rolling and drowning occur within a controlled setting. In the dry scenario, you add the bonus of random gravity as you are thrown down a cliff/hill and left to bounce until you stop or die whichever comes first. I can readily attest to the absolute idiocy of paying to potentially die, drown, become a broken pile of bones or paralyzed in the name of fun. I must also concede the siren like call of this thrill ride is not without appeal.
In the meantime, my shrewd husband uses my dual nature to his advantage and my long term viability. In planning for this trip, having seen my eyes gleam as I mentioned, “Zorb is up and running,” and in an effort to make sure he isn’t suddenly a widower with nine children, he’s shown the promos from the web for Zorb to my oldest four. They all now desperately want to go. That sly dog just guaranteed I’ll be pool side reading books the whole week even if my life insurance is paid up. It just goes to show, you marry what you need and the species survives.
Friday, May 7, 2010
7 Quick Takes Friday
1. 15 seconds
My youngest son stood for 15 seconds. He also said "Hello" this week and "I love you Dad." It's hard to top that, but my pediatrician said, "He should work on saying, "I love you Mom." for Mother's day." I'll just feast on his kisses on my cheek as he says, "Love, love, love, love, love." It works for me.
2. I'm Nominated
I didn't even know I was nominated in the 2010 Cannonball Awards for Most Underappreciated. So go, show your love for Chocolate for your Brain! The losers still get a badge, a "I got nominated and all I won was this wrongful sense of pride" widget. I'm just pleased to be in the company of My Wonderful Life and the Crescat and Aggie Catholics.
http:www.//thecrescat.blogspot.com/search/label/Cannonball%20Awards
3. Fortelling
When my daughter was born 14 years ago today, I begged the nurse to show her to me. "Let me see her." I demanded as they were wrapping her up. They turned her face towards me. "She's beautiful." I said. The nurse then asked me, "Do you think you will have any more?" Mind you this is three minutes after delivery and I guess it was in my heart before my head knew it because I responded, "Oh sure." Happy Birthday!
4. My sons have discovered the hose.
My grass will never be thirsty again and socks will never be dry. But the hose is the one toy that brings a surly almost 11 year old, a sensitive 6, a sparkly 8 and a brass 4 together. Watching them play, as much as I hate to say this, it's worth a bit of extra laundry even if one child is wearing a leather cowboy costume vest.
5. Prayer
Prayer never fails. Not once. We begin to speak towards God and God is waiting to pounce, to lavish us with His love, to answer, to answer, to answer. So I invite each of you to pick one person you know that for the next week, you will pray for. You don't have to tell them, you tell God. You petition God for them, because of them, out of love for them, out of a difficulty loving them. It does not matter. Pray for that person with your whole heart. God hears; God responds. I've got mine.
6. Saints
A jewler sends me a catalog and I drool over the silver he designs. For over 15 years, I wore a silver cuff my father gave me. It was just the right fatness, it got dented, left in a bar in Italy --I made the bus turn around, lost in a couch for six months, and then one day, I couldn't find it. I remember I couldn't find it and voiced my sadness to my mother as I looked at the silver cuff advertised on the cover. She suggested prayers to Saint Anthony and I agreed, I'd petitioned him on many an occasion for keys, for purse, for peace of mind, for minutes in the day, for a solution to a problem, for the energy to pray, for the capacity to act.
"What would we do if we didn't have Saint Anthony?" she asked. "Where would we be?" It took me two seconds to find the answer, "Lost." But sometimes, God works in the losing too. I lost my keys today after we came home, hence we had to bag softball practice and the slow winding weekend start was just what all of us needed. I've looked everywhere but can't find those keys. Yes I've put in a request to Saint Anthony too, but also I'm really enjoying Not being able to go anywhere so I can't say I'm looking too hard, not yet anyway.
7. Happy Mother's Day
My mom was here for the week and it was really nice to have unrushed time with her and Dad. Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you. Still after all these years, you're one of my best friends and it's hard to go a day without talking. Thanks for all you do, while here and from afar. Any skills I have as a Mom come from you. Much love. --Sherry
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
What is He expecting?
My five year old son John got in the car yesterday after school and announced, "It's ten days to my birthday. Have you gone shopping yet? Is the house prepared?"
Friday, May 8, 2009
Remembering 13 years...
My daughter turned 13. She's so much more together than I was when I was that age. (I put the awk in awkward). She reads more. She knows more. She automatically pays attention to detail in a way I still have to consciously consider to manage.
When she was first born, my first words were, "Let me see her." and "She's beautiful." I then said, "That was much easier than the first time."
The nurse washed her up and laughed. "Are you going to have any more?" she asked. Keep in mind, I was fresh from delivery. I smiled, "Oh yeah." Little did I know.
On my 30th birthday eve, she slept through the night. She was two months old. She continues to be a source of comfort.
Having a strong independent streak, one day she decided to color her entire left arm purple. She wore boots with a tutu and a crown on a regular basis before "Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse." When being instructed on riding a bike by her older brother, she rolled her eyes. "I've been watching you for years."
At four, she started pre-school and the first day was a parent/child day. She said she didn't need me. Brimming with confidence, she played, she ordered me to take a picture of her teacher, sans her, and explained when I asked her to share the toys with the other kids, "They get to play with ME."When we left the room, she collapsed in tears. "What's the matter?" I asked, utterly baffled.
"I still don't know how to read!"
She also was fierce with us, but absolutely sweet on Dad. For him, she would try harder, she would study, she would practice piano, she would master how to do the layup and she would study politics to sound impressive.
She now keeps a literal library in her bed, (at last count, 23 books), stacked neatly against the wall for easy reference. She plays the saxaphone and loves orange, purple, the Orioles and anything that seems like it might have come from the elves of Lord of the Rings.
Because this child is also the official organizer of birthdays, she was concerned about her own. Normally, she locks herself in my room and wraps the presents, reminds me to get a cake and whatever number we need from the store and does decoration flawlessly. She frequently acts as a coordinator of games for the younger set when we host a party, and she loves being part of the plan even if we're on top of things.
I promised I would actually get to the details and I did wrap her presents. I even made her favorite cup cakes, or rather, she did with my help. (Chocolate sour cream, no frosting). I was feeding the baby and reading aloud the recipie with helpful commentary. Watching her work and seeing how much she's grown up, its hard and real to recognize that soon, I will be sending sour cream chocolate cupcakes to college (5 years will fly by), and I will remember because there isn't someone there nagging me not to forget.
Happy Birthday Athena, my gentle wise child. My original assessment of her still holds. "She's beautiful."
When she was first born, my first words were, "Let me see her." and "She's beautiful." I then said, "That was much easier than the first time."
The nurse washed her up and laughed. "Are you going to have any more?" she asked. Keep in mind, I was fresh from delivery. I smiled, "Oh yeah." Little did I know.
On my 30th birthday eve, she slept through the night. She was two months old. She continues to be a source of comfort.
Having a strong independent streak, one day she decided to color her entire left arm purple. She wore boots with a tutu and a crown on a regular basis before "Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse." When being instructed on riding a bike by her older brother, she rolled her eyes. "I've been watching you for years."
At four, she started pre-school and the first day was a parent/child day. She said she didn't need me. Brimming with confidence, she played, she ordered me to take a picture of her teacher, sans her, and explained when I asked her to share the toys with the other kids, "They get to play with ME."When we left the room, she collapsed in tears. "What's the matter?" I asked, utterly baffled.
"I still don't know how to read!"
She also was fierce with us, but absolutely sweet on Dad. For him, she would try harder, she would study, she would practice piano, she would master how to do the layup and she would study politics to sound impressive.
She now keeps a literal library in her bed, (at last count, 23 books), stacked neatly against the wall for easy reference. She plays the saxaphone and loves orange, purple, the Orioles and anything that seems like it might have come from the elves of Lord of the Rings.
Because this child is also the official organizer of birthdays, she was concerned about her own. Normally, she locks herself in my room and wraps the presents, reminds me to get a cake and whatever number we need from the store and does decoration flawlessly. She frequently acts as a coordinator of games for the younger set when we host a party, and she loves being part of the plan even if we're on top of things.
I promised I would actually get to the details and I did wrap her presents. I even made her favorite cup cakes, or rather, she did with my help. (Chocolate sour cream, no frosting). I was feeding the baby and reading aloud the recipie with helpful commentary. Watching her work and seeing how much she's grown up, its hard and real to recognize that soon, I will be sending sour cream chocolate cupcakes to college (5 years will fly by), and I will remember because there isn't someone there nagging me not to forget.
Happy Birthday Athena, my gentle wise child. My original assessment of her still holds. "She's beautiful."
Monday, June 30, 2008
Reasons I didn't Post Sunday
There are many reasons for not writing in a blog on a regular schedule, not the least of which is that moment when one tries to disguise a grocery list as a humor piece. I haven't reached that point yet, but this week was close.
So Sunday, I didn't post. It's not that I didn't try. I tried writing about my child that turns into Moaning Myrtle whenever I ask her to do a chore. She complains, stomps her feet and then in a fit of inspiration, says, "I need to go to the bathroom." Then she disappears. But it turned out to be a one joke wonder.
Next, I tried to explore the issues of a brave new world, as my son who Never dances, not with his mother, sisters, Aunts or Grandparents, went to a Quincinera and danced the night away with a girl who ASKED him. I have tried to be respectful and not give him, as his best friends did, a new meaning for the words, Spanish Inquisition.
Then there's the fact that we threw a birthday party for my six year old. Her birthday date was actually 90 days ago, so this was her sixth year's birthday observed. We had a fairy princess party, complete with a castle and pin the tail on the unicorn and musical thrones (chairs with blankets thrown over them). Rain put the kebash on flying races outside but otherwise, they had a great time except when the birthday girl got mad when she didn't win musical chairs. She stomped out of the room and into the closet and slammed the door. Letting my oldest take over the music and running of the games, I went to fetch the very sad Tinkerbell. "I hate musical chairs! I never win at anything!" She sulked.
"You're being a bad sport."
"I want to be a bad sport."
"Fine, then you'll miss the rest of the games." I shut the door and went back to the party. One of the parents there gave me a look. "She's crying." I explained.
They looked shocked. "It's her party and she'll cry if she wants to."
Five minutes later, The Birthday Princess Fairy Tinkerbell returned to play Duck Duck Goose.
Lastly, I have taken on the Fall Carnival at my kids' school. The day of the Festival? My due date for number 9.
Why?
Motivationally, it's really fun. Who is going to say they are more busy than me?
It's a compelling arguement. Even my pastor called to say, "Sherry, this certifies that you are insane."
It also allows me to preemptively get my hours for the school taken care of via summer meetings and planning. So, if you're in the area, come to the school carnival on September 27th. It should be a lot of fun. I'll try to write a whole piece for Tuesday.
Best wishes on a great week folks.
Sherry
So Sunday, I didn't post. It's not that I didn't try. I tried writing about my child that turns into Moaning Myrtle whenever I ask her to do a chore. She complains, stomps her feet and then in a fit of inspiration, says, "I need to go to the bathroom." Then she disappears. But it turned out to be a one joke wonder.
Next, I tried to explore the issues of a brave new world, as my son who Never dances, not with his mother, sisters, Aunts or Grandparents, went to a Quincinera and danced the night away with a girl who ASKED him. I have tried to be respectful and not give him, as his best friends did, a new meaning for the words, Spanish Inquisition.
Then there's the fact that we threw a birthday party for my six year old. Her birthday date was actually 90 days ago, so this was her sixth year's birthday observed. We had a fairy princess party, complete with a castle and pin the tail on the unicorn and musical thrones (chairs with blankets thrown over them). Rain put the kebash on flying races outside but otherwise, they had a great time except when the birthday girl got mad when she didn't win musical chairs. She stomped out of the room and into the closet and slammed the door. Letting my oldest take over the music and running of the games, I went to fetch the very sad Tinkerbell. "I hate musical chairs! I never win at anything!" She sulked.
"You're being a bad sport."
"I want to be a bad sport."
"Fine, then you'll miss the rest of the games." I shut the door and went back to the party. One of the parents there gave me a look. "She's crying." I explained.
They looked shocked. "It's her party and she'll cry if she wants to."
Five minutes later, The Birthday Princess Fairy Tinkerbell returned to play Duck Duck Goose.
Lastly, I have taken on the Fall Carnival at my kids' school. The day of the Festival? My due date for number 9.
Why?
Motivationally, it's really fun. Who is going to say they are more busy than me?
It's a compelling arguement. Even my pastor called to say, "Sherry, this certifies that you are insane."
It also allows me to preemptively get my hours for the school taken care of via summer meetings and planning. So, if you're in the area, come to the school carnival on September 27th. It should be a lot of fun. I'll try to write a whole piece for Tuesday.
Best wishes on a great week folks.
Sherry
Monday, May 26, 2008
How to Party when You're Grown Up
For some reason, adults always downplay their own milestone markers. Recently, I heard two friends talk of having dull birthdays. These adults are the same people that hire ponies, cater bar-b-que, and hold an all day fiesta when their children turn two. The result is that birthdays become a marker of aging, rather than a time of celebration. To help all of those in the parenting stage of life, acknowledge the anniversary of their birth about gaining another year, but not being old, I present the following tips.
1) Invite Friends. Whole Families, extended family, neighbors and their friends, their dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters. It’s your birthday darn it, and people should first, know about it and second, properly celebrate it.
The best way to do this is to send invites or e-vites, it allows you to publicize the event without seeming immodest.
2) Think Fun. I know those fun muscles are out of practice, they probably have stretch marks. But exercise routines start with the first day you decide to exceed the normal 2.6 miles most people trod in a day, and well, you don’t want something like this to happen to you.
When I turned 30, I was handed three lovely presents by my husband, an unwrapped autographed book by Bill Bradley and a CD of Dennis Miller Rants, plus some very good chocolate. He kissed me and said, “Happy Birthday.”
I swallowed hard and managed a feeble “Thanks.” I really did like the gifts but felt uncelebrated. He looked at my face and said, “You’re sad.” I shot back, “I’m thirty years old. It’s my birthday. I’m NOT SAD.” He looked at my eyes. “You are sad.” My lip quivered. “I AM SAAAD.” And man did I bawl.
Fortunately, my beloved husband took charge and we went to Gettysburg and toured Picket’s Charge on my birthday, and then to Williamsburg for a day at Busch Gardens where he and I took turns going on roller coasters and watching our then two children. My daughter, then two months old, let me sleep through the night. It was a celebration bonanza.
Of course that meant I had to come up with something just as funtastical for his Big 3-0, so I invited all of his guy friends from college and high school and law school to our home for the weekend.
We saw Star Trek First Contact –remember back when Star Trek was good? Almost me neither. We ate steaks and I made Tres Leches –a gloriously bad for you cake that requires more cholesterol than found in an entire five buckets of KFC. It’s made with at least a dozen eggs and a can of sweetened condensed milk. I’ll email the recipe if you ask.
We played flag football and went to Dave and Busters in the evening. I’d arranged for sitters to allow us all to go play for the evening. I even was a good wingman to a friend of ours who was and is an actual pilot in the Air Force. Who knew I could be a wingman?
The point of all this is plan. Have a plan and execute the plan, but most importantly, plan to have a blast.
3) Laser Tag, Dinner at a restaurant you’ve been dying to try or even one that sings those hokey songs and makes you wear a Sombrero are great. Bar-b-cue in the back yard, A baseball game, go-carts, a concert, bowling, poker night, a day at the pool, the park or the beach, a snowball fight, a water gun fight with your kids, tickets to a show, flag football at the park, the possibilities are endless.
4) If you like to or would like to try, play video games, let your kids teach you. New skills make the mind agile and feel young. You can’t really feel old when you’ve just schooled your teenage son in wii golf. It’s not possible. Gloating is permitted and even in some families, considered an art form. Who’s your Mamma?
Note to self: work on end zone routine.
5) Wear a new outfit. Most of us moms get a new outfit for the birthday kid so they’ll look spiffy for the pictures. Do the same for yourself, whether it’s a haircut, a manicure or even just a new pair of shoes. Spruce yourself up so you look good, you’ll feel good.
6) Reality like sick kids, work schedules and unavoidable activities sometimes crowd a birthday. This is why our family celebrates Birthday Month. Why limit the fun to just one day? This does mean that seven months out of the year, not counting actual scheduled holidays, we're celebrating. Want some cake? Odds are in your favor in the spring if you come over.
7) Go to Mass. If possible, receive the sacrament of reconciliation so you can start your next year with a fresh spirit. Okay, this last one is only completely doable if you’re Catholic.
8) Feast well. Calories on Birthdays are 100%allowed. Chocolate Cake all day? Why yes thank you. I believe I will….
9) Write down three things you hope to accomplish next year and put them in a birthday jar. Have each of your family do this as well, and on you next birthday, see if you did them.
10) Schedule a Health Check up and a Dental appointment. Why? Because the year will go better if you know you’re taking care of you.
11) Go to the Bookstore or Library, pick out a book you’ve been meaning to read. Start the first chapter.
12) Take a picture of all those you love. Don’t forget to include yourself, even if you hate how you look in pictures. Try to remember all of the birthdays past that you can, going backwards, or your favorites. Don’t forget to call your siblings and your parents and other family members not present to get their memories of those same events.
13) Hog the remote.
14) Start a diary. Leave it by your bed. You’ll be amazed next year.
15) Take a long hot bath
16) Open your presents…hint to family, wrap them.
17) Plan a trip for the following year somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.
18) Take up an instrument/art/craft you’ve never done before and always admired or wished you knew…who knows what will happen. Practice and failure and surprise success are all good for the soul.
19) Blow out the candles. All of them. Give everyone a big slice with extra frosting.
20) Give Thanks to God.
1) Invite Friends. Whole Families, extended family, neighbors and their friends, their dogs, cats, gerbils, hamsters. It’s your birthday darn it, and people should first, know about it and second, properly celebrate it.
The best way to do this is to send invites or e-vites, it allows you to publicize the event without seeming immodest.
2) Think Fun. I know those fun muscles are out of practice, they probably have stretch marks. But exercise routines start with the first day you decide to exceed the normal 2.6 miles most people trod in a day, and well, you don’t want something like this to happen to you.
When I turned 30, I was handed three lovely presents by my husband, an unwrapped autographed book by Bill Bradley and a CD of Dennis Miller Rants, plus some very good chocolate. He kissed me and said, “Happy Birthday.”
I swallowed hard and managed a feeble “Thanks.” I really did like the gifts but felt uncelebrated. He looked at my face and said, “You’re sad.” I shot back, “I’m thirty years old. It’s my birthday. I’m NOT SAD.” He looked at my eyes. “You are sad.” My lip quivered. “I AM SAAAD.” And man did I bawl.
Fortunately, my beloved husband took charge and we went to Gettysburg and toured Picket’s Charge on my birthday, and then to Williamsburg for a day at Busch Gardens where he and I took turns going on roller coasters and watching our then two children. My daughter, then two months old, let me sleep through the night. It was a celebration bonanza.
Of course that meant I had to come up with something just as funtastical for his Big 3-0, so I invited all of his guy friends from college and high school and law school to our home for the weekend.
We saw Star Trek First Contact –remember back when Star Trek was good? Almost me neither. We ate steaks and I made Tres Leches –a gloriously bad for you cake that requires more cholesterol than found in an entire five buckets of KFC. It’s made with at least a dozen eggs and a can of sweetened condensed milk. I’ll email the recipe if you ask.
We played flag football and went to Dave and Busters in the evening. I’d arranged for sitters to allow us all to go play for the evening. I even was a good wingman to a friend of ours who was and is an actual pilot in the Air Force. Who knew I could be a wingman?
The point of all this is plan. Have a plan and execute the plan, but most importantly, plan to have a blast.
3) Laser Tag, Dinner at a restaurant you’ve been dying to try or even one that sings those hokey songs and makes you wear a Sombrero are great. Bar-b-cue in the back yard, A baseball game, go-carts, a concert, bowling, poker night, a day at the pool, the park or the beach, a snowball fight, a water gun fight with your kids, tickets to a show, flag football at the park, the possibilities are endless.
4) If you like to or would like to try, play video games, let your kids teach you. New skills make the mind agile and feel young. You can’t really feel old when you’ve just schooled your teenage son in wii golf. It’s not possible. Gloating is permitted and even in some families, considered an art form. Who’s your Mamma?
Note to self: work on end zone routine.
5) Wear a new outfit. Most of us moms get a new outfit for the birthday kid so they’ll look spiffy for the pictures. Do the same for yourself, whether it’s a haircut, a manicure or even just a new pair of shoes. Spruce yourself up so you look good, you’ll feel good.
6) Reality like sick kids, work schedules and unavoidable activities sometimes crowd a birthday. This is why our family celebrates Birthday Month. Why limit the fun to just one day? This does mean that seven months out of the year, not counting actual scheduled holidays, we're celebrating. Want some cake? Odds are in your favor in the spring if you come over.
7) Go to Mass. If possible, receive the sacrament of reconciliation so you can start your next year with a fresh spirit. Okay, this last one is only completely doable if you’re Catholic.
8) Feast well. Calories on Birthdays are 100%allowed. Chocolate Cake all day? Why yes thank you. I believe I will….
9) Write down three things you hope to accomplish next year and put them in a birthday jar. Have each of your family do this as well, and on you next birthday, see if you did them.
10) Schedule a Health Check up and a Dental appointment. Why? Because the year will go better if you know you’re taking care of you.
11) Go to the Bookstore or Library, pick out a book you’ve been meaning to read. Start the first chapter.
12) Take a picture of all those you love. Don’t forget to include yourself, even if you hate how you look in pictures. Try to remember all of the birthdays past that you can, going backwards, or your favorites. Don’t forget to call your siblings and your parents and other family members not present to get their memories of those same events.
13) Hog the remote.
14) Start a diary. Leave it by your bed. You’ll be amazed next year.
15) Take a long hot bath
16) Open your presents…hint to family, wrap them.
17) Plan a trip for the following year somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.
18) Take up an instrument/art/craft you’ve never done before and always admired or wished you knew…who knows what will happen. Practice and failure and surprise success are all good for the soul.
19) Blow out the candles. All of them. Give everyone a big slice with extra frosting.
20) Give Thanks to God.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Mental Dim Sum and Sons
No unifying theme today, just some odds and ends I found amusing and in some cases, profound.
If you've never eaten Dim Sum, think of having a dinner entirely of appetizers. Heart's Delight or Jewels that tug on the heart is the concept to consider here --Tapas, or French courses, the idea is little snatches of yumminess that satisfy.
First: Happy birthday to my four year old. He's potty trained, so I can officially celebrate the anniversary of his birth. He told me, I'm allowed.
Second: We went out to dinner last night and the waiter showed up with a sunday and Sombrero for my birthday boy. When they put on the hat, he stuck his lower lip out and shrunk down to the size of a ball, he looked like a Mexican mushoom with that big hat on his head, but when the ice cream showed up...suddenly that hat was his very favor thing.
Third: And now a word from our sponsor. I don't get many comments. I don't get huge amounts of traffic. Aproximately 20 or so people visit this blog a day. The high water mark was 106 and that was with a serious plug from the Ironic Catholic, a brilliant blog I admire greatly.
The other day, I knew I had arrived on the blogosphere. I got my first Spam comment. I have printed it here minus their plugs to give due homage to the people who indicated I had entered the big leagues...it was in response to the Sous Chef piece.
"3/10/08
A critical underpinning of a healthy diet is unque... A critical underpinning of a healthy diet is unquestionably the consumption of fresh vegetables and fruits. Unfortunately, many adults do not like these fine foods - so kids are the concern. Anyone interested in getting kids to develop a friendly attitude towards fruits and vegetables should take a look at a new book called “Insert title here.” Great for kids of all ages – children even learn their alphabet through produce poems and then go on to more mature activities. Out only six months it is already being used in educational programs. It is coauthored by best-selling food writer Sir SPAM A Lot and Other Notable Quotable writer SPAM Jr. You can learn more at SPAM SPAM SPAM AND MORE SPAM.com
Publish Reject "
I'm sure it's a splendiferous book, postively "unque" and I'd have even given it a looksee if I thought a human had read my post.
And lasty,
Why I should really be both terribly pleased and worried:
Found my middle son's artwork.
He had drawn a rosary.
He made a list entitled "Pray For Every Night"
Here is the list, punctuation included.
1. boy twins.
2. Mom and Dad.
3. poor people.
4. My brother.
5. Everyone!!
I am in big big big trouble.
Don't forget, you can find more laughs at http://www.humor-blogs.com/! They're funny even when I'm not.
If you've never eaten Dim Sum, think of having a dinner entirely of appetizers. Heart's Delight or Jewels that tug on the heart is the concept to consider here --Tapas, or French courses, the idea is little snatches of yumminess that satisfy.
First: Happy birthday to my four year old. He's potty trained, so I can officially celebrate the anniversary of his birth. He told me, I'm allowed.
Second: We went out to dinner last night and the waiter showed up with a sunday and Sombrero for my birthday boy. When they put on the hat, he stuck his lower lip out and shrunk down to the size of a ball, he looked like a Mexican mushoom with that big hat on his head, but when the ice cream showed up...suddenly that hat was his very favor thing.
Third: And now a word from our sponsor. I don't get many comments. I don't get huge amounts of traffic. Aproximately 20 or so people visit this blog a day. The high water mark was 106 and that was with a serious plug from the Ironic Catholic, a brilliant blog I admire greatly.
The other day, I knew I had arrived on the blogosphere. I got my first Spam comment. I have printed it here minus their plugs to give due homage to the people who indicated I had entered the big leagues...it was in response to the Sous Chef piece.
"3/10/08
A critical underpinning of a healthy diet is unque... A critical underpinning of a healthy diet is unquestionably the consumption of fresh vegetables and fruits. Unfortunately, many adults do not like these fine foods - so kids are the concern. Anyone interested in getting kids to develop a friendly attitude towards fruits and vegetables should take a look at a new book called “Insert title here.” Great for kids of all ages – children even learn their alphabet through produce poems and then go on to more mature activities. Out only six months it is already being used in educational programs. It is coauthored by best-selling food writer Sir SPAM A Lot and Other Notable Quotable writer SPAM Jr. You can learn more at SPAM SPAM SPAM AND MORE SPAM.com
Publish Reject "
I'm sure it's a splendiferous book, postively "unque" and I'd have even given it a looksee if I thought a human had read my post.
And lasty,
Why I should really be both terribly pleased and worried:
Found my middle son's artwork.
He had drawn a rosary.
He made a list entitled "Pray For Every Night"
Here is the list, punctuation included.
1. boy twins.
2. Mom and Dad.
3. poor people.
4. My brother.
5. Everyone!!
I am in big big big trouble.
Don't forget, you can find more laughs at http://www.humor-blogs.com/! They're funny even when I'm not.
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