Balls Are Funny I Guess - and Birthday Parties Rock

Hello blog.  Hi.  Have you missed me?  What?  You don't remember who I am?  That's okay.  I don't really remember you either apparently because it took me THREE tries to type my password in correctly.  I'm getting stupider (stupider, stupider, more stupider, why do neither of those seem right?).  Anyway, you should know that nothing very exciting has gone on lately.  I mean, there was that time a few months back that Tootsie's friend whacked her in the head with his plastic sword which landed us in the ER where it took 4 full-sized adults to hold her down while so she could be stitched up by an extremely pregnant doctor who, judging from the scar on Tootsie's face, was also suffering from the stupids.  And, AND, there was that day a few weeks ago when Eliot (the younger shpanky brother) got miffed that his plastic football helmet was all bobbly on his head.  And because shrinking the helmet was obviously not an option, his only choice was to increase the circumference of his head.  By wearing seven beanies.  On his way out the door to school.  Oh, and there was that one day that Peanut Baby did this...

And now we have all turned into little marionettes that dance and shimmy according to her demands.  She has a hard life that one.


And then the Penn State fiasco.  Oh my, that just sucked away like two whole weeks of my life.  Two whole weeks where I did nothing but watch the news in complete and utter disbelief.  After which I sat my boys down and explained things that no parent ever wants to have to explain to their little boys but thank you Jerry Sandusky now we have no choice.


But then I would just roll a ball to Peanut Baby and all was suddenly right in the world again.  Ahh, baby giggles.  


So really, nothing very big to report.  Well, until today I guess.


Walk with me.  Talk with me.  Just for a minute.


One time in Junior High, My mom I thought it would be a rewarding experience to try out for the school play, The Wizard of Oz.  My audition went well.  I was pretty sure I would probably be cast as a munchkin, or an Oz person, or at least a tree or something.  Something or someone who made an actual appearance on the stage.  So you can imagine my surprise when I found out that I would be playing "Toto's bark".  No, I wasn't Toto (although that definitely would have been an upgrade).  I was his bark.  They actually wanted me to stay after school every day, month after month so I could sit off stage and make barking sounds on command.  I probably don't need to mention that I declined the offer.  But just in case...I declined the offer.  


I tell you this story to make the point that I suck at lots of things.  Actually, I suck at most things I attempt.  But there's one thing.  One thing I kind of kick some serious ass at.  Birthday parties. 


Today was Tootsie's birthday party.  Not her actual birthday.  Her actual birthday is on December 26th, and anyone born the day after Christmas is destined to be ignored on their birthdays for the rest of their life.  Which will inevitably lead to the crushing of their tender inside parts and drive them to seek counseling in their latter years.  So far, we've master the art of pretending our daughter's birthday doesn't exist and have started a savings account titled Tootsie's Therapy Fund.  It has worked out wonderfully until these past few months over which she has been invited to several birthday parties.  Parties.  To celebrate ones birthday.  Where people come and participate in games and activities and all sorts of splendidness.  Tootsie.  Discovered.  Birthday parties.  Which meant that I couldn't be all, tra la la no birthday here continue on your merry way, come the 25th. (what is it with birthday parties these days.  I feel like putting up a billboard that says, "dude, I get it, you were born.  As were the rest of us."). - (oh wow, that's just WAY too many punctuation marks right there).  At any rate, it was time to throw the girl a party.  And if you know me at all, you know that I don't throw parties.  Like, ever.  But on those extremely rare occasions that I have a lapse in judgement and recklessly abandon my party philosophy, I don't just throw a party.  I go balls to the wall, bat crap crazy, ocd for weeks before the actual date planning the most perfect of all perfect parties.  I can't tell you why I do it.  It just happens.  Which essentially is why I developed the whole "no throwing parties" rule for myself.  That and the fact that I don't like being served with divorce papers.  Poor Ryan.  Send him flowers.


A few weeks back Tootsie told me that she wanted to have a party where her friends could come and decorate their own cakes.  Nine 4 and 5 year olds?  Armed with cake and frosting?  In my house?  No.  Haeeeeell no.  I tried to persuade her to consider other birthday theme possibilities but it was not to be.  A cake decorating birthday party became her reason for eating and drinking and breathing in and out every day.  And so it began.  And because I'm me, that over-doer that I usually keep locked way deep down inside of myself somehow broke loose (notice how I use the word doer, not achiever - as I really have never actually achieved anything worth mentioning) (wait, I think I was nominated "most likely to become one of Santa's elves" in 7th grade) (or maybe it was "most likely to land the part of Toto's bark" - one can't be certain).  But you guys. This party.  Was so rad.  I have to show you how rad.  Because if you happen to have a little girl who happens to have a birthday and you happen to be scouring the internet for party ideas?  This is one you might want to consider.


We started off with a tea party.  Because hello?  Tea parties are awesome.  

Tootsie was rather enchanted with the whole ordeal.

We then moved to the kitchen table where the guests were each outfitted with their very own apron hand crafted by myself and the birthday girl.  Mostly by myself.  Well, until I grew tired of sewing and drove to the nearest Kid2Kid to purchase the final two.  Which incedently were only $4.00.  Would have been helpful to have known that before I spent an entire week MAKING aprons.  Spent rest of the evening sitting in corner sucking thumb and rocking back and forth.

But dang, they looked cute.

And here's where it gets fun.  Or scary.  Depending on how you look at freaks like me.  Okay scary. 

I found pastry boxes to put their finished products in and baker's twine to finish it off.  Oh, and notice the stickers that say, "thank you for coming, love Tootsie" (my favoritest part for sure).  They also got to keep their aprons (gun, head, trigger) and their spatulas (dollar tree - two for a buck - no brainer) (because they were cheap - not because I just put a gun to my head) (i've developed a parenthesis fetish) (are you annoyed yet).

And here's where you can feel free to tell me that I need counseling.  This is Tootsie's birthday cake.  And because I wasn't quite kookie enough, I made giant cupcakes to serve instead of cake.  Purely because I didn't want to cut into the cake.  I wish I were kidding.

Really though, sometimes crazy pays off.  Look at that kid.

I hate cheesy sentiment.  I don't usually do cheesy sentiment.  But today, I have to.  Sorry in advance.

I remember rubbing my hand over my enormous belly imagining what you would be like.  I pictured you as a precious, soft, sleepy, infant.  I pictured you as a wide-eyed, sweet, easy going toddler.  I pictured you as a passive, un-demanding little girl.  Because sugar and spice and everything nice, I had been told.  Or maybe because that's what I thought I wanted you to be.  

I never pictured you this way.

I never imagined you would be the strong willed, independent, stubborn to the bone child that you are.  And for a long time, I didn't understand you.  But that was my mistake.  I didn't want to have to re-mold myself to make room for your complex personality.  I thought you would just fall in line and march to the beat like everybody else.  I was so wrong.  I was so wrong to think that it was your duty to become my vision for you.  I was so wrong to have a vision of what I wanted you to be.  Because what you are is so much better.  You are a combination of sweet and tough that I have never seen before.  You have a strength to your spirit that Genghis Kahn would be envious of.  You are smart but not self-rightous. You can read people like a book, and you somehow make room for everyone in that tiny heart of yours.  I never see you judge.  Ever.    

Every day is an opportunity for me to watch you, and learn from you, and be thankful that I was chosen to be your mom.

Every night is seemingly the end of a chapter.  As I take your angelic face in my hands and kiss you on the head, I think to myself that I can't imagine my life without you, and that I can't wait to meet you new in the morning.

When I look at you, somehow I know that I've known you longer than just 5 years.  Maybe much longer.  But I also know that this life is yours to live.  It's yours to make with it what you will.  And believe me my girl, there is nothing tying you down.  

You are everything I wish I could be.

Happy 5th Birthday.