Friend party

We did for the first time what many do every year, that is, host a birthday party for our daughters with their friends instead of grandparents--aka a "friend party."

Pro tip:  If your kids are content with grandparent parties, ride that as long as possible.  They're a lot easier, and less pressure, than friend parties. 

I intended to invite whole families, since several of Ada's and Lizzy's friends are member of the same family, and I like their parents.  Also, one family has several little people Caleb's own age, giving him some playmates during the girly celebration.

That plan wasn't met with as much appreciation from Caleb as I had hoped.  He claimed that when other kids come over, they play in his room and make a big mess for him to clean up, and then "my woom is ho-wen-dous."


So, points for vocabulary, if not articulation.

The party went ahead as scheduled, with promises to Caleb that we wouldn't allow any kids upstairs.  There were six adults and eighteen children, 8 pounds of Kraft macaroni and cheese, 24 hot dogs, two dozen cupcakes, and a piñata.

Party pros:

-The weather was beautiful for children to play, eat, and open presents outside. 

-They decorated their own cupcakes.  While some might consider this a party con, it worked well because A) there was no pressure on me to make a pretty cake; B) it doubled as a party activity; C) the kids were thrilled about it; D) I taped down a disposable tablecloth on the table beforehand; and E) we had the kids go in three shifts--younger girls first, then little siblings, then big girls, for whom I saved back some clean frosting.

-Ada pre-labeled all the paper cups with all the kids' names.  No fumbling with a Sharpie while kids are juggling ketchup and bending paper plates before your eyes--we did it the night before.  

-In fact, I did as much as possible the night before.  I put out balloons.  I set out the cupcake-decorating supplies.  I taped down the tablecloth.  I set out paper plates and cups and hot dog buns.  I cleared a spot to put down presents.  I moved chairs out of the way.  All those things add up when you have dozens of people on their way over and you're in the middle of wondering what you were thinking when you agreed to do this.  

Party cons:

-Next time I might consider separate parties.  Maybe.  My two daughters, besides having friends in the same families, also have birthdays five days apart.  A joint party makes so much practical sense.  Still, it's possible it would relieve stress on their mother-introvert-extrordinaire, and it might be more tailored to the wishes of each birthday girl.  A consideration, not a resolution.

-On a similar note, next time I might not invite younger siblings; in fact, I might consider shipping the birthday girl's siblings off so I can focus on amusing only one narrow age group.  Maybe.

-So it turns out piñatas aren't the barrel of fun they seem like they'd be.  Beat a colorful hanging object until candy pours out, what could be better?

Except... if the first kid whacks it apart, no one else has a chance to hit it.  And if they don't get a good whack, they feel cheated.  And we had eighteen children and one piñata.  I'm thinking maybe we don't know how to do it right.  One kid early on whacked it off the hanger, so it fell to the ground whole.  Then we had to rig up a new hanger while hungry kids circled like wolves.  If the kid missed a swing, they cried.  If they ripped a big hole in it, the other kids cried.  Oh and don't forget, if you're lucky enough to avoid head injuries from the whacking stick, you'll certainly sustain them when the kids all rush in to collect the candy and bend over at once, cracking their crania together and--oh yes--crying again.

So I'm thinking maybe no piñata next year.  Or ever again.

Or maybe one piñata for every child.  Spaced 10 yards apart.  Filled with broccoli and school supplies.

I went the lazy route and bought the bag directly under the piñatas labeled "piñata candy."  It also had various noisemakers and plastic jewelry made in China.  Parents loved me for it.

Fortunately, birthday, even two-at-once birthdays, only occur once a year, so I have a whole year to think about it. 


And, who knows--maybe by next year they'd rather hang out with their grandparents instead.

Spirals, pictures, Ears, and the bear

Results from playing with my new veggie spiralizer

A few weeks ago we had our portraits taken again by Jenny Reid of Be Thou My Vision Photography.

Isn't she talented?

Caleb is scheduled to start joining Lizzy next week for his own speech therapy sessions, both with a secondary focus on reading skills.

Caleb's new-to-him stuffed bunny named Ears is the newest member of our family.  Ears goes everywhere Caleb goes.  When Ears gets misplaced, we hear Caleb calling for him.  "Ears?"

Ears also endures a lot of abuse.  Here he is put in the stocks for an unspecified offense.

A couple of sisters had birthdays.  Jeddy was thrilled to give them his gift:  a single 5-pound gummy bear.

It was a bit of an ordeal to split it in half so as to ensure fair division of gelatinous sugar.

They eat it by the slab.

Even Ears.

Wordless Wednesday

Bunny school

We're about eight weeks into school.

That's long enough for everyone to have decided which subjects they like and which ones they don't. 


Caleb's favorite thing ever--apart from Buck--is Ziggy the zebra puppet.  Ziggy comes out to help Caleb learn his letter sounds, and he is a huge hit. 

One day after the Ziggy lesson, while I had moved on to teach Lizzy, Caleb reanimated Ziggy right in Buck's face.  "I'm fuzzy.  You're fuzzy.  It's a fuzzy party!"

Caleb tells me he (Caleb) is a good "bunny take-care-of-er guy."


It's a good thing Buck is so good-natured.

Though he does sometimes resort to hiding in the trash can.

Alternately, sometimes he stands on his tiptoes, steals crumpled papers from the trash can, and runs (hops) away with it, to chew it up in the corner.

Jason and I have been tickled to death planning an international getaway in honor of our upcoming fifteenth anniversary.  Earlier this month we trekked into town to get our passports, which, hopefully, will be the worst part of the experience, other than the flight. 


We paid $10 each to have a photo taken that could easily pass for a mugshot of a corpse.  Then we paid a few hundred dollars to have said photos sent far, far away. 


Sadly, they will return to us in the form of legal passports (hopefully).  At least we don't have to look at them; we just have to show them to border agents, who will undoubtedly scratch their heads and wonder why we don't look like criminal zombies in real life.

To add some challenge to my life, I volunteered to teach fourth-grade Sunday school this year.  I had intended to teach 4-year-olds, but that class was already claimed--as was preschool, kindergarten, first grade and second grade.  And I've heard enough about the third-grade class that I chose fourth.

So we're in a learning curve together, the fourth-graders and me.  They could hardly be a sweeter group of kids, and I'm thinking maybe by May I'll figure out what I'm doing.

Other than that and the ridiculous amounts of rain that have fallen continuously since May, things are pretty much the same as always.  School, dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, repeat.  

I still run in the mornings; a shot of endorphins works better than coffee to get you going.  Added bonus if you get a shot of terror-induced adrenaline from walking out the back where Shelob has woven her web as tall as I am somewhere across the steps Every Single Morning.  

Thank God for the recent wet weather, which makes the web visible, along with the spider's thick fur and every single one of its many legs.  

At eye height.  

First thing in the morning.