The Death Party

This past Sunday Evie turned the big 0-2.  I am not big on planning parties.  I never know what to serve or who to invite or if there should be games or any of the other million and one questions that SoHubby throws at me when thinking about one of the kids’ parties.  Around age 7 I am burnt out and simply go with cake and the kid’s favorite meal.

Since Evie is only 2 yrs old I needed to put forth some effort, so I decided to go kind of generic.  Her theme was pink and lavender.  Sure I could have gone with Princesses, Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Winnie the Pooh, etc, etc, etc, but since Evie was being tight lipped on what theme she really wanted I made the decision that was easier for me.  I know I am a selfish.  As an added bonus I thought it would be cool to have a candy buffet.  Then I made the most crucial misstep of all in planning this party, I asked for advice on the trusty Babycenter Bargain Hunter’s Board.

No there are no bargains on this board.  Well, not many.  I will give you a brief history.  When I started on the board there were tons of bargains.  Like everything in this world bargains run in cycles.  I probably joined somewhere around Christmas, which as you can guess bargains are abundant.  Then you have the after Christmas sales.  And as that Christmas dinner you had it becomes too much; for the stores and for the customers.  Hence a big gaping lull on the BHB.  What?  Do you expect us to put down those laptops and pay attention to our kids. Pshaw!  So to keep the board going OT (off topic) posts started showing up.  That lead to drama.  And now we are known for straight talking drama.  Since the big switch there have been other boards vying for top spot of bringing the drama, but if you want to feel like a complete and total fail as a parent just go on over to the BHB.  No wonder I spend most of my children’s lives on it.

Here is my thread that caused much drama.  To save you from reading all those pages of telling me what a horrible baby killer I am, I will summarize it for you.  Basically, how dare I not warn parents of the children I invite, because “I” would never allow my child to go to a party like THAT!  Or my favorite “I hope you know CPR, because you are going to need it.”  Matter of fact we had 2 nurses at the party.  We called them Mawmaw and Nana.  Instead of answering my request of any advice I was bombarded with snarky responses about how I am going to kill children and to make sure to keep them away from deflated balloons and swimming pools.  The thing is that the ones who told me, “Hey you might want to rethink the jawbreakers” early on in the thread got me to change to another candy which I mentioned in the thread.  However, these ladies never miss a chance to drive a point home.

So I dubbed Evie’s party “The Death Party”.   I thought about having an ambulance or coroner near by.  Nah, there was already a paramedic there, we call him Pawpaw, and a cop down the street.  I am sure that would be good enough. And as with most of the parties, I plan to take tons of pictures and fail.  I am either putting things out, talking to guests, making sure children aren’t dying in a corner somewhere, and running my husband all over kingdom come for things that I should have bought more of.  But here are the few pictures that I did take:

Here we have the Death Buffet.  Look at all that death just laid out for any innocent child to come along and grab a bit of it.  I would like to say that the adults were the first ones to dive right into my jar of M&M’s.  The kids went off to the playroom.

As you can see in the front there to the left of the Death Buffet, I have a small fruit and cheese tray.  OH! MY! GOD!  What is that right there?  Is it?  NO, it can’t be!  Oh yes it is, a bowl of caramel to dip your apples in.  The empty space was for the heartattack chicken, aka Raising Cane’s along with Cane sauce, of course.  That is what SoHubby had to run out and get more of, because you know we all love a good heart attack down here.

And the worst offender of all:  THE BIRTHDAY CAKE!!  How dare I not warn those parents that there would be a fluffy, moist, creamy birthday cake at this birthday party for a 2 year old?  I really should have my head examined.  After the cake was cut, I lined the kids up for the ultimate punishment.  I handed them a favor bag and told them to take as much of the candy as they wanted.  I did, according to the oath I took when joining the BHB, did ask the parents first if it was okay.  Even some of the parents took some candy home.  My Jedi mind trick must have worked on them, too.  Death for all!!!

(And NO!  The cake doesn’t say “Happy Birthday, EVIL”.  I am not that warped.  It says Evie.)

Look, I want my kids to be healthy, but have learned, long ago, to remove the stick out of my ass. It tends to lead to being more flexible.  I have no problem with parents not letting their kids have candy.  I, on the other hand, can’t live without candy which means my kids will have it on occasion as well.  They better because the rest of the candy from the party sits in the middle of our dining room table.  Don’t worry we don’t eat there, anyway.

What I learned from my candy buffet experience: Put wrapped candy into jars that the kids can get to.  You don’t want them putting their hands into jars with unwrapped candy.  Make sure there is enough for everyone, which means you will have to accept that there will be candy leftover.  Enjoy, life is too short and the BHB will remind you that it is even shorter after you eat all that candy.  I found the penny jars (the jars in front of the cake) at Target for just over $5.  I found the other jars in a set at Target, as well, for $20.  If you want the really pretty jars go to your local Michael’s.  If you want color coordinated candy start early and expect to pay a premium.  The M&M’s were the biggest hit.  And oh, if you are not lucky enough to have medical personnel already invited to the party, make sure you print out a waiver for each parent to sign upon entering the party.  Have fun!

 

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StoryLand

We went on our first summer playgroup with MOPs.  I am so happy to have found this group, through our great Special Instructor from Early Steps.  Not only do we have things to do during the summer, but we have met so many great women and kids.

I do love going to Storyland.  You get to run from one fairytale to the next right there in the middle of New Orleans.

First stop is always the pirate ship.
I asked Sam who he was, thinking that he may say Jake from Jake and the Neverland pirates.
Instead he said “CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW!”

You don’t get more whimsical then a fish riding a bicycle.
I do have to wonder why it was outside of the bathroom.

How great is it to take cover under a giant mushroom.
If you look closely, you will see that Amber has picked up on making
weird faces in pictures from her teenage aunt.
*sigh*

My favorite picture of the day.

Club Castle.
All the bounce music the anklebiter set can stand.

Taking a breather in the coolest spot in the whole place.

A break with an old friend.
We are not sure why he had that woman under him.
Of course, we didn’t ask. We wouldn’t want to be rude.
Also, we thought he was potty trained by now, but I wouldn’t mention it
if I were you.

The day ended around this point, because I just couldn’t take the whining about the heat, anymore.  Yes, we all know that we live on the surface of the sun, but most of us have accepted it and have moved on.  I guess Sam is not quite there, yet.

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The Cougar Strikes!

This playdate thing is pretty ingenious.  A few of us moms get together with all our children, or whatever children we happen to have with us at the time, and while a few moms watch and socialize with each other, a mom gets to go out and do errands (or whatever) all by her lonesome.  See what we have been reduced to; looking forward to a couple of hours of going to the grocery store all alone without falling babies, children with the gimmes or the whining that this is taking too long.  However, when you get this many children together in one place and Amber drama will ensue.  It is her thing afterall.

Our hostess’ innocent son (4 years old) gotten bitten by the Amber bug.  Hey, it happens.  It seems to happen to Sam all the time.  So the 4 year old innocently asked Amber to marry him.  Where he got this idea, I am not entirely sure, but I will give you 3 guesses and the first 2 don’t count.  She could have said, “Well, not right now, but I will think about it” or “Aw, aren’t you sweet” or “I will check with my mom” and the list goes on and on.  Here is where her future as a Cougar comes into full view.  What does my lovely daughter answer, “NO!”.  I guess 8.5 years on this earth hasn’t taught her one thing about being gentle in these sticky situations.  At first it was all in fun and the 4 year old seemed to be okay with the answer.  Then it just became just mean.  Amber repeated her NO! and next thing we know we have a heart broken, crying 4 year old boy on our hands.  I am mortified.

There is a big difference between 4 years old and 8, almost 9, years old.  And there is an even bigger difference between boy and girl.  Thankfully, in true boy form, the 4 year old was back to playing in no time.  On the other hand, Amber is smug about the fact that another boy is just hopelessly in love with her.  The same thing has happen with a boy at school, although he is in her class.  She came home all outraged, because this BOY is IN LOVE with her and she is NOT.  How can it be so horrible to have someone in love with you?  The trick is to be nice about it and turn the boy down in a way that he still feels good about himself, but is clear there is no hope for you and he.  I am 38 years old and don’t think I possess this, but hey I can hope for better for my daughter. I gave Amber a strong talking to.  Basically, she was informed that I was in no way going to stand for her destroying people for sport.  We have this talk often, but mainly with respect to her brother.  I might have, also, reminded her of a few times that people have said some rotten things to her.  Not sure how many times we will have to have this talk, but I hope that some day it will sink through.  Until then I expect to be completely mortified a lot.

This parenting thing never gets easier.  Oh people will say it gets easier, but they are wrong.  It never gets easier, it just changes.  The best we can do is deal with the changes as they are rapidly thrown at us and alway protect our faces.

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Guess Who is Coming to New Orleans?

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

That’s right!  Curious George is coming to the New Orleans Arena Friday, September 10 to Sunday, September 12.  You know that silly little monkey that has been getting into all kinds of trouble for over 65 years.

It was so nice of him to come down for my birthday weekend, but I have a feeling he will be a bit too busy.  How do I know that  Curious George is going to be busy?  Because the nice people at the Vee Corporation have allowed me to give the locals of the Greater New Orleans area a discount when purchasing their tickets. Just go to ticketmaster.com and enter the code FRIEND to receive $3 off, excluding Gold Circle, Monkey and Opening Night tickets.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

So come on down to the Arena and see what kind of adventures Curious George gets into in his first ever Broadway style show. I hear there is travel, food, and, of course, silly adventures that not only include George’s best friend, The Man with the Yellow Hat, but many other new friends.  You will just have to see it to believe it.  And be sure to say HI! if you see us, because we wouldn’t miss this for the world.  One last thing, stay tuned to the blog,  because I have another surprise coming soon that includes some other friends that you all will know.  I wouldn’t miss if I were you.

Disclaimer:  I have received free tickets for my family to this show for doing this blog post.

Curious George Live!

A VEE Corporation Production in association with Universal Pictures Stage Productions and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. CG: ® & © 2010 Universal Studios and/or HMH. Photos courtesy of VEE Corporation.

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Norman Rockwell Halloween

Halloween was never a big holiday for me.  Sure as a kid I loved the free candy, but I don’t remember classroom parties or endless decorations.     I am not a fan of horror movies and didn’t party like my friends,  so Halloween just became another day made a little better with fun size candy bars.  In my early twenties, I started going out for Halloween.  Nothing huge just hanging around with friends as we watch the crazy unfold. Then I met SoHubby.  The man lives for Halloween.  He likes the dressing up, the decorations and the scaring the crap out of people, especially the little ones.  It isn’t Halloween until you make a kid cry on your porch and then console him with some free candy, hoping his parents are too drunk to remember this.  And, now, with kids, Halloween has taken on a whole new turn.

If you haven’t notice Halloween has become almost as big as Christmas.  Matter of fact all the holidays have.  The kids celebrate each holiday with the same excitement that was once reserved just for the big one, Christmas.  I think the stores play a big part of this, because where there is excitement there is some one spending money.  Tis the American way.  So they start putting Halloween items out starting in the beginning of August and people start to get the fever and the only cure is to spend, spend, spend.  I have no problem with this.  Heck, I welcome it because it just means more clearance once the holiday is over.  Too bad candy doesn’t last a year, at least not in this house.  Besides, Halloween is the first big holiday since school started.  So yeah!  Party, party, party.

Sohubby did get my Halloween spirit going in those early days of our relationship, but I think the kids, especially Sam, have thrown them into overdrive.  No, I am not covering my face in blood, watching Friday the 13th Part 103, or doing my best to give little kids heart attacks, but I am looking forward to Halloween.  I haven’t gotten my vision, though.  As soon as someone mentions Halloween, usually Sam, I can pretty much smell the cool crisp air with a touch of warmth in it.  This is odd only because we live on the edge of the 7th circle of Hell, weather wise.  It is rare to have a cool crisp Halloween in these parts, which means while the rest of the country is choosing costumes for warmth we are steering our kids toward ventilation and  mosquito protection.   However, if we do get that rare cool Halloween night, it is usually spoiled by the heavy hint of humidity in the air.  How can you have humidity and coolness at the same time?  You, my friend, haven’t been to New Orleans in October.  It happens and it sucks.  Still we march on like the true holiday soldiers that we are.

Next are the decorations.  I dream of hay bales with cute and friendly scarecrows and lovely round pumpkins scattered around our yard.  The look that screams come on in, sit by the fire and sip a cup of cider with me.  The husband and the kids steer the decorating more toward the blood, demented minions, gravestones, and things that look as if they have been underground for a century but love to pop up just as you walk by.  You know the look that screams 1950′s haunted, abandoned mental institution that would have been the center piece of any Geraldo special.  Not my ideal, but, again, I go with it, because I am out numbered.   I am sure when the kids are grown and on their own I can torment my lovely husband with all the cute and cuddly Halloween decorations I have always dreamed of.

The pumpkin patch.  I had seen and heard about them from TV shows, but had never seen one in real life.  Unfortunately, when I say pumpkin patch down here, I am not talking the drive to the country from the city to wander the land of a farm searching for that perfect pumpkin.  I am talking the parking lot of a local church who charges by the pound and has made up area for photo ops.  If you are really clever with your camera you won’t get the cars zooming pass on the major street in front of the church.  But if you close your eyes for a second and let the hay scratch you a bit you can imagine that you are in that far off farm in New England finding that perfectly round pumpkin.  As for the pumpkins, while they are better than what you will find at the local Wal-mart or grocery store. They are never perfectly round and most times you are lucky to get one that has one good side.

The one thing I can count on is the candy.  There is just that special mixture of chocolate and wax like candy that smells like Halloween.  And, of course, you can’t have Halloween without the candy corn.  That is grounds for explosion from the holidays altogether.  If you are not rolling on the ground screaming from pain by November 1 you didn’t have a good Halloween.  None of that Harvest Mix, either.  Those waxy pumpkins and brown “chocolate”and candy corn are enough to send me racing to the toilet like I am knocked up with triplets.  Things start to look up on October 1 when I have an excuse to get the candy bowl out and keep it filled with candy corn and other candy that signal which holiday is coming.  We never know why our pants are a little tighter with each passing month from October to January, because surely that small handful of holiday candy, that we grab on the way to the sofa to sit on our ass with our computers and TV, isn’t enough to pack on the pounds.  And all that exercise we get walking the kids from house to house to beg trick or treat for candy, or shopping for the perfect gift or turkey would be more than enough to use up the minuscule amount of candy we consume on a second by second basis.  Not to mention, the stop we make at our friends’ house for a second go around at dinner while trick or treating.  Nothing says love or holidays like food.

I will probably never get my New England Halloween (yes, I think of New England for Halloween) with it’s cool crisp air, apple picking, perfect pumpkin patches and hot cider, which I am almost positive I wouldn’t like.  I will continue on with our Halloween filled with ghoulish decorations that get knocked down day after day, because along with cold humidity comes big gusts of wind.  The kids changing which costume they want and the never ending fight over which costumes is not too sexy (yes, even in the pre tween section) or too satanic or too ghoulish or just plain too gross.  The bowl of candy that screams for me to partake of it’s sweetness until all the good chocolate is gone and then hangs around on my ass until New Year’s.  It is not the Norman Rockwell Halloween that I have in my mind, but it is a good time because it tells us that the cool crisp air we have been dying for since the middle of May is around the corner.  Thanksgiving is knocking on our doors and Christmas is getting ready to make it’s visit and stay awhile.  It is the holiday that comes knocking to let us know that it is that time of the year for families and friends to get together, hopefully, forget the everyday mundane stresses (traded in for those frivolous holiday stresses) and that a new year is coming filled with promise and happiness.  Yes, Halloween never meant much to me growing up, but it has a whole new meaning now.

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Houseguest Beware

Amber had asked if her friend from church could spend the night since they were out of school for the holidays.  I agreed knowing full well what was in store for me.  I knew that Sam would try his best to be involved in every thing the girls did.  I knew that there was a possibility of a girl fight and the  girls leaving angry at each other.  And I knew that I would be in for a little more work than usual.  What I didn’t count on were the details.  The devil is always in the details.

First detail, where would Evie sleep.  Apparently, I am still living some first time mom fantasy where I lay my cooing baby down in her crib and she sweetly drifts off to sleep, despite the loud noise that fills the house.  I must have hit my head and totally forgotten that it  has been a long process, lately, getting Evie to sleep.  This would be a blessing and a curse for our first time sleepover guest of the under 4 ft variety.  SoHubby got the joy of watching The 12 Dancing Princesses (a movie I despise) and Madagascar 2 (a movie I was happy to see once) while I rocked, burped, fed and rocked a baby that refuses to sleep while watching a Lifetime movie upstairs.  When I finally did get Evie to sleep in her crib, it was time for everyone to go to bed.  Hey, if my bedtime is 10pm then it is for the little people as well.  Did you know that little girls don’t drift off to sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow?   Old people, like myself, do, but not little girls who are so excited to have a sleep over.  Evie woke up from the laughter and chatter of 2 very excited little girls.  I couldn’t blame them, but I did smack my head because how stupid could I be?   So, Evie would sleep with us.  Again, I have that whole fantasy thing going, because of course she would lay her head down and go right to sleep in the middle of our bed with no discomfort to me, because this has worked so well for me in the past.  In case you were wondering, it hasn’t.  My night was filled with not moving an inch or breathing or giving SoHubby the stank eye because he moved or breathe in order not to wake up the baby who slept with her doll on her face the whole time. 

Second detail, I have a boy living in the house.  It is so great how well Sam has done with his potty training once he realized we were not kidding about the whole no diapers thing.  The part I could do without, the nude parade that must commence every time the boy has to go to the bathroom.  I am constantly yelling telling the kids that there is a one person per bathroom at a time and to allow the other person to pull their pants up fully before entering.  Yeah, do that a million times a day and you get the same result as banging your head against a brick wall.  We have all gotten use to a foot against the door to prevent an unexpected small visitor while we are in the bathroom.  Or just bear through listening to a story that couldn’t wait until we were finished.  Of course, we are constantly telling him to wait, knock, etc., but he is almost 4 years old and a boy. He doesn’t really care much for all these fancy social graces we keep trying to push on him.  So it shouldn’t have been no surprise to me when our houseguest and I were brushing our teeth for Sam to walk in without a care in the world, drop his pants and proceed to sit on the toilet.  I tried my best to scream, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO through a mouth full of toothpaste.  All I got from Sam was a look of calm down, MOM, what is your problem.  Our houseguest had a look of terror on her face, because she lives in a house with grown-ups who I am sure don’t combine bodily functions with grooming.  You know, fancy people.  As our houseguest darted out of the bathroom, I reminded Sam that we don’t use the bathroom while others are brushing their teeth, that we have 2 other bathrooms he could use and for GODSAKE keep your pants on in front of guests, at least.  What did Sam muster up as a response, “I had to go to the bathroom, Mom!”, because I am the unreasonable one here. 

Third detail, sleepover means up late and up even earlier.  I was surprised the crank factor didn’t enter the equation faster, but I did forget about it all together.  While I ushered everyone to bed at 10 pm, there were still little voices floating through the air around 11pm.  Who knows when they fell asleep, because at the point that Evie decided to give into the Sandman, I flung myself at him.  I think the girls were up at 545 am, but I don’t know for sure.  I do know that SoHubby was up earlier than his usual 7am wake up time, but I only opened my eyes enough to grunt out a small whimper of “Keep it down” to no one in particular.  I would be up at 8am after the first gleeful scream of the morning.  At around 230pm a sweet game of bang a balloon around my foyer would show the effects of a late night and early morning.  It was time for the sleepover to end and my goal of ending on a happy note was smashed to pieces.  I gave up when Amber ramped up the drama, but I stood by and watched the Dads give it a go.  So baffled they were that the girls couldn’t just make up and go on their way.  I mean boys punched and trash talked each other all the time, then go out for a beer root beer when the dust settles.  Aw, the  complexities joys of femalehood. 

Fourth detail, all your secrets will be reveal for the judgement of other parents.  I don’t know why this never crosses my mind.  I mean every time Amber has had a sleepover we get the full scoop on the parents when she returns.  My only hope is that our houseguest’s report will not resort in a visit from an official from the state and I won’t have to answer why I can’t afford pants for my son.

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Halloween

When did Halloween become such a big holiday?  The stores start putting the stuff a month early, (which is when you know you really made it) there are tons of parties, many opportunities for trick or treating, and decorations.  When I was a kid (Yes, I am so old, now, that I have started many sentences with those 5 words.) we dressed up in our drug store costumes (which were made out of very hot plastic and I am sure are still languishing in a landfill somewhere) and begged trick or treated for candy.  Then it was home for mom to plifer check for razor blades in our candy.  AH, the good ole days!

Now, parents try to out do each other with the most “look at how wonderful my kids are they picked a non-mainstream costume” and the most original non-candy treat.  Or so I hear around the Internet.  Down here in the Boonies, Deep South, we like to keep to the old school of things.  People sit out with their fire pits (a must if it drops below 70 degrees), hand out big handfuls of candy, the kids look like they stepped right out of the TV, and YES, you will see the adults walking around with beers in their hand.  Why should Halloween be any different?  There is not much done around these parts without beer in  hand.  No biggie, everyone is responsible.  The best part is the “hayride”.  Well, it is basically just a tractor pulling a flatbed trailer with ice chests and chairs on the back.  Don’t give us too much slack, we have large plots and walking, especially for the short-legged, gets tiring quick.  We stuck to our wagon and stroller, except when SoHubby decided to hitch a ride on the back of the trailer. 

Halloween at the Old Homestead:

It seems we have a pest problem.
I better get our Orkin man on the phone, quick!
At the very least, ask for a refund.  I don’t think that last visit took.

Around Halloween, we get fancy.
Meet our lovely welcomers.
Hey, if  Walmart can have them, so can we.

Damn!  I thought I saw Uncle Earl leave after our last party.
I guess he was too drunk to drive, so he just hung around.

Neighborhood fun:

Hey, when are we going to get this party started?
Sam had picked out a nice (read $20) Ironman costume, only to decide he wanted
to be Batman, again.  Something tells me that Sam will be Ironman, whether he likes
it or not, next Halloween.

This one is not shy.  This was our first house and she had no problem setting down her
bucket and parking in front of the fire pit.
Amber, also, decided to change her costume at the last-minute.
She started out wearing a green dance costume, only to change to this dance costume.
When asked what she was, “Cupid’s big sister”.
Whatever, she was in a costume and that is all that is required on Halloween.

The hayride, just replace hay with ice chests and lawn chairs.

Last stop, the Storytellers’.
Where the rides are free, the potato soup is hot and the father of your children
is either a monk or the Grimreaper.  It all depends on the mask at the time.

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In Louisiana…

 

This is how we keep the kids entertained:

Also, known as playing with your food.

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Who Says there isn’t Diversity in the Private School System?

Whenever I read a post like this, I have to pause and remember that my city, and even my experience in that city, is not like everyone else’s.  So when I encounter moms on parenting boards or on blogs that discuss how they are making an effort to make sure their kids have a bit of diversity in their lives, I have to stop myself from gaffawing.  I must remember that much of the country is not New Orleans, where it seems there is something different around every corner. 

It is true most parents that live in the Greater New Orleans (this includes many of it’s suburbs) strive very hard to send their kids to private schools. It is more rooted in the city’s history more than the decline of the public school system, although that plays a part.  When the Louisiana Purchase went through, many New Orleanians did not trust these Americans that were migrating to the city.  Their ways were very foreign and New Orleanians were happy with the way things were run before.  Most of this is based in the Catholic religion and since most children were taught by the church there seem no reason for a public school system.  Therefore, the natives of New Orleans stuck with their old ways and continued having their children taught by nuns.  Times have changed a bit.  There are more non-religious private schools, although many still follow the Catholic holidays since it is so ingrained into our culture, and there are not many nuns left in the Catholic school, but the trend of the mistrust of public schools is still strong and kicking.

With all that said that doesn’t mean our children are missing out on the different cultures that live in our city.  Amber’s school has a large mixture of cultures and children who don’t necessarily go home and have mac and cheese for dinner.  That doesn’t mean that the public school system is left out of the diversity lottery at all.  SoHubby and I both went through the New Orleans Public School System.  I can only speak for myself but I was definitely a minority when I went to school.  It is such an odd concept for me that kids can go to school and see only other kids that look  like themselves.

Today was a perfect example.  When I recieved the invitation I thought there was a typo or I was just missing something.  The party time was stated as Noon til dawn.  Even when Amber asked about it, I brushed it off as nothing.  I would late r find out that the time was, indeed, no mistake.  This party was intended to go on until the food was gone and from, the looks of it, the party could go until the wee hours of the next morning.  

Most birthday parties you go to are of the general fare: cake, ice cream, hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza, chips, dip, etc.  This party, put on by the family of one of Amber’s Vietnamese friends, was not going to be of the everyday type.  The food alone was enough to tell us that this was a party like no other.  The amount of fruit ensured that none of us had to worry about scurvy for as long as we lived and the seafood.  THE SEAFOOD!  New Orleans is famous for it’s seafood, but this family put that to shame.  There were oysters as big as Frisbee, served raw, of course, with all the fixins.  Then there was fried shrimp, boiled shrimp, crawfish, crabs, lobsters (oh yeah, LOBSTERS), steamed squid with a special sauce, fried rice, chicken, pizza (for the kids), and cakes covered in fruit.  And everything was super sized.  I need to know where they get their seafood, because in all my years I haven’t seen any of those items served in those proportions.  This was definitely not like any party we have ever been to before. 

Both host and hostess were very gracious and zeroed in on SoHubby.  A man who will try any type of food once and will torment his kids with doing the same.  It was a little embarrassing when Amber screeched that she would DEFINITELY not be trying any steamed squid and EWWWW it has an eyeball.  She was not amused when I told her that was where all the protein was.  Sam simply buried his head into my shoulder to ensure that his mouth was no where near the squid.  SoHubby sampled all that was offered and promptly fell asleep in the car on the way home.  What else do you do when you eat yourself into a coma? Our host would assure us that he had enough food to go the distance and that distance was somewhere around midnight.  Unfortunately, there was no way that we could have gone that long, especially since the kids had bounced, pony rode and face painted themselves into a tired mess. 

 I have to say that the Internet has shown me how grateful I am to live in a city where the people are different around every corner and are so welcoming to invite us in to share in their culture.  Even if my son comes home and promply ask for mac and cheese.

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First Sleepover

Amber had her first, ever, sleepover this weekend.  It was totally unplanned, but more than welcomed.  If I didn’t settle her down, when she first heard the news, I think she would have exploded into a pile of glitter and sparkles.  Amber has a friend that we only see at church.  This friend lives about 5 minutes away, but in a totally different neighborhood.  It is not like Amber can walk or ride her bike there.  There is a major, dangerous road to navigate, nosidewalks and I am sure with Amber’s attention span she would end up in the river instead of her friend’s house.  The friend’s mother has offered up playdates and sleepovers before, but our schedules just don’t match up.  Then there is the guilt of me just dropping my kid at someone’s house and running for the hills. 

This was not Amber’s first, ever, sleepover invite, though.  One of the girls in her class had a sleepover birthday party that I never told Amber about.  As soon as I saw the invitation I knew Amber wouldn’t be going: 1. I didn’t know the parents very well.  Sure I had seen them at school, other birthday parties and even at my house, but I didn’t KNOW them.  Hell, I didn’t even know where they lived.  Since Amber goes to a private school, in another city, most of the kids live all over the place which makes it hard to see them and get to know their parents outside of the small moments at school.  2. They lived over 45 minutes away from our house.  I could see it now, all the little girls are having a great time and then WHAM! girl drama and they start dropping like flies.  I get a phone call that Amber is crying uncontrollably and wants to go home.  Best part it would probably be at midnight.  I can’t see me being at all happy to drive 45 minutes away to pick up my daughter; only to get there and discover that the girls have patched things up and eating popcorn.  3.  I am sure this girl’s parents are lovely parents, but I didn’t feel right about dropping my kid off and leaving her overnight. 

I got some slack for this, from friends, the Internet and my husband, but in the end I felt this was a big enough deal to die on the hill.  Luckily, that wasn’t necessary.  Amber did find out about the party.  Apparently, little girls like to talk.  Alot.  I simply had to inform her that I didn’t think this was a good time.  Surprisingly, she seemed fine with that. 

However, once it was mentioned that she might get to sleepover at her church friend’s house that was it.  It was all that was talked about.  I am happy the mother didn’t just mentioned it once and then leave me hanging in the wind to constantly answer the dreaded question about a million times before my head popped off and rolled under the sofa for a little peace.  The weird thing is that Amber didn’t mention it much until this weekend.  Then suddenly I get a phone call this Saturday inviting Amber to spend a glorious one day, one night stay at Hotel Casa de Fun. 

The plush accomdations included a pool with hot tub (or mini pool, according to Amber, because it wasn’t hot enough), a house with more rooms than ours, a real live piano that she got to bang on play, a room that was tucked away from the parent’s bedroom and, of course, her bestestfriend in the whole wide world.  It was hog heaven and Amber slopped around in it until she burst.  At around 8pm, which was 7 hours since I had seen my first born, I wondered to SoHubby if we should call and see how things were going.  He reported back that all was going well.  The mother’s house was in disarray and Amber claimed that she wasn’t going to be homesick at all.  At this point, I accepted that we may never seen our daughter again and continued with my Law and Order marathon, courtesy of TiVo. 

It is a weird feeling to have 2 kids and then suddenly just have one.  I was able to go to Sam’s without corralling 2 little humans away from sample carts and the gigantic aisle of candy.  It is much faster to get in and out of a car with only one child to buckle in.  I am hoping that Amber will master the regular seatbelt aided by her booster seat anytime before she reaches college.  There was only one child to argue over whether to get an Iceeor not.  Normally, I would have be all over it, before Sam got the words out, but I gave them up for Lent and each time he asked I died a little inside.  The whole concept of sacrificing something for 40 days was just a bit out of his reach of comprehension.  Later at home, there was only one child to feed dinner, one child to whine about not feeling good and one child to put to bed.  This one child thing was a piece of cake.  However, I had this nagging feeling.  I wondered what was Amber doing.  And tons of what ifs.  What if someone broke into the house?  What if the house caught on fire?  What if they went out and lost Amber?  What if, what if? 

This morning I discovered there was nothing to worry about.  Amber had a GREAT TIME!  And I think she was undecided if she wanted to come home or not.  Sure there was a little scuffle this morning when her friend ran over her with her bike, but once insurance was exchanged all was better.  Amber got to swim in a deluxe heated pool for 3-4 hours.  Then there was munching on pizza at Mo’s, where Amber got to drink Pepsi, eat the biggest pizza, EVER,  and eat  a cookie as big as her brother’s head.  This was a highlight, even though we have eaten at Mo’s many times before.  I guess everything is better when the company is anyone, but your parents.  *sigh*  And don’t forget that Amber was able to stay up until after 10pm, which is like the greatest thing in the entire world.  Making me feel better was the fact that Amber gave us a complete run down of her entire stay.  All I can say is I fear for our turn at sleepover, because dirty little secrets come spilling out the mouth of babes. 

I have already expressed my desire to return the favor.  I have, also, done this with the mother across the street, whom has had Amber over to play with her older daughters and Sam to play with their son.  I have been turned down all times, because I am pregnant.  I appreciate the thought and have wonder if I shouldn’t just run with this.  I mean I can send my kid off to destroy spend time at other people’s homes and not have to worry about those kids destroying spending time at my home.  Maybe it is my Southern upbringing or my desire to not have people talking smack about me behind my back, but I don’t feel this is right so I will continue to offer.  I mean if I offer and no one accepts then my name is clear, right? 

I didn’t think this would be a tough decision in the grand scheme of parenting, but it was one that had me over the barrel.  I felt guilty for not letting Amber go to her classmate’s sleepover, but was glad that I was given an opportunity to make it up to her while leaving me feeling completely comfortable in my decision.  Now, I need to keep on with our friends of grown children.  I mean Amber’s Godmother did offer to have both kids sleepover and after getting a small taste of one child being away I can say, with confidence, I am ready for a night without both kids.  Better hurry, because there is only 4 months left until Operation 3 kids and all hell breaks loose.

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