Eli. Oh, my Eli Be-li Boy. Sometimes I think that if Eli had been our first child, he would have been our only child. Other times I think we wouldn't have known any better and we just would have thought that's how kids were, and Ian still would have come along. Either way, parenting Eli is NOTHING like parenting Ian. I find it absolutely mind boggling that two children can have such inherently different personalities. I've heard the nature vs. nurture argument and believe me when I say, their differences are 100% nature. I have raised the two of them exactly the same. But while Ian is the most easy going human being to ever grace this earth and his face is always angelic; Eli has a look on his face 24/7 that just screams, "MISCHIEF ON THE MIND!" It's a good thing this look is so darn cute, or I would go insane.
Eli is a miniature version of my dad. From the day he was born, Cole's mom has always said that when she looks at Eli all she can see is Ted. It's so true, too. I have always looked just like my dad, except for my green eyes, the only physical trait inherited from my mom. My Grandma Zimmerman's friends even called me "Little Teddy" when I was a kid. And my dad's senior portrait? Let's put it this way, if I managed to find the necktie he had on in the picture and had my portrait taken while wearing it, you would be hard pressed to decide who was who. A couple of months ago, I found a baby picture of an 11 month-old me, and it looked EXACTLY like Eli. The Zimmerman genes are very strong, and Eli is ALL Zimmerman. And the bond Eli has with my dad is undeniable. When he is upset with me, he cries for Papa. Usually, kids flock to my mom, but Eli has always been drawn to my dad, just like I always was.
But the similarities to my dad don't end there. Eli chews on EVERYTHING. He has eaten chunks of foam out of his sandals and chunks of wood out of my wooden tables. Wood! Not particle board, wood! He has eaten wood, people! When I asked my parents, "Who would do that?!" they immediately answered, "Your dad!" My Grandma had said that she thought my dad was part goat when he was a kid (pun intended). Once, she had a set of side chairs reupholstered in a lovely vinyl (very chic for the era), and my dad, a little guy at the time, chewed all of the trim off of the chairs in a matter of hours. I'm sure it was delicious. Eli seems to like the taste of faux leather. Just recently he ate the ear off of his Monster Mutt monster truck toy.
The similarities don't end there, either. Eli has a temper. My dad was famous for his temper as a little guy. He was smaller than most of the kids in the neighborhood and if you didn't include him when you were playing, Lord help you. Among his most noted acts of revenge were cutting the center out of a volleyball net, so all that was left were the top and bottom bands, when he wasn't allowed to play volleyball with the rest of the bigger kids, and busting out the neighbor's basement windows with a Socko paddle when excluded from a different game. I see a lot of financial retributions to neighbors in my future. Eli can get fired up like you wouldn't believe. And it really doesn't take much to set him off. Cole and I euphamistically say "Eli is passionate about life." He is either 150% happy or 150% mad. There is no neutral with Eli. My sister, Whitney, once commented, "I've never seen Eli sad. I think he only has two emotions: ecstatic or thoroughly pissed off." She hit the nail on the head with that assessment, let me tell you. Eli's temper will even throw Ian for a loop. He will look at Eli in absolute bewilderment and ask, "What's Eli doing? Is he mad? Is he being a Stinkerton?" I can only respond with, "Yes, darling. Eli is mad." What I want to say is, "I have no idea what he is doing. Call Papa and see if he can explain it to you."
And the similarities don't end there, either. If there is anyone on Earth who likes to have a good time, it's my dad, and Eli's other side, the 150% happy side, is incredible. The vast majority of the time, Eli is 150% and it makes life unbelievably wonderful. When he is 150% happy, he puts on his "Cheezeler" face. His smile is so larger that his eyes become little more than slits because his round, chubby cheeks squish them closed. When Eli is happy, there is nothing that can get in his way of having a good time. He will just roll with the punches. He LOVES to make Ian laugh. When we are in our horridly boring (no DVD player) car, Eli will make silly faces and ridiculously gross noises just to make Ian laugh. They can do that for hours, which is fortunate considering it takes a solid two hours to get from our house to Flora. He is a totally fearless wild man at home. He could climb all of the furniture before he could walk, he is CONSTANTLY getting in the toilet (disgusting), he will jump off of anything and fall face first into everything with at least 1/8 of an inch of padding. Eli completely immerses himself in anything that brings him joy. It melts my heart to watch him having fun because when he is having a good time, he is having a good time!
But the similarities still don't end there. Both of the boys are total motorheads. Holy cow, are they motorheads! As you can imagine, this thrills my dad. Both of the boys are totally obsessed with anything with wheels, most notably: trains, monster trucks, race cars, tractors, motorcycles.....you get the point.....ANYTHING with wheels! However, Eli has an absolute passion for motorcycles. He loves everything about them. I think the happiest day of Eli's life was the day he sat on a Harley for the first time. Coincidentally, this was also the most miserable day of his life because I eventually had to take him off of the Harley. This also could have been one of the most miserable days of my life considering the gigantic fit he threw in the process of said removal. He can hear one coming seconds before anyone else. He drops everything and runs to the window to watch it zoom by, and as soon as it has passed, he looks completely devastated and asks, "Motorcycle go?"
But, wait, the similarities don't end there. Eli is extremely opinionated. Yes, at 19 months this boy KNOWS what he wants. When it comes time for bed, Eli will NOT listen to a story that he doesn't feel like hearing. He will say, "No, no, no, no, no......." and shove the book until you get it out of his sight. It's the same way with songs. If you are singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" when he wants to hear "Jesus Loves the Little Children", he will yell "No! More Bible So! More Bible So!" until you get with the program and sing the right song. Eli knows exactly what he wants, when he wants it, and has no problem letting you know when you aren't cutting the mustard. My dad is the same way. If you don't want to hear the truth, then don't ask my dad. He won't go out of his way to be mean, but he is very matter of fact. It's very rare that you find someone who is honest even when you are hoping they won't be. I won't lie, but I will always put a positive spin on things, even when the situation does not warrant one.
And the similarities don't end there. My dad was an absolute master of opening Christmas gifts weeks before Christmas without leaving a trace of evidence in his wake. He could also cheat at card games without anyone having a clue he was doing it. Boy, oh boy, is Eli sneaky. Ian plods through the house sounding like a 250 lb man on the rampage, but Eli glides from room to room without making a sound. This is of course to our disadvantage because by the time you realize you haven't seen him for a while, he has managed to empty a dresser or climb something or destroy something or wreak some other type of havoc. Last night he temporarily disappeared. When Cole found him he was standing on top of the toilet applying a heavy layer of Old Spice "Denali" deodorant to his stomach. Ian and Eli are both notorious for this. Ian calls it "putting his skin on." Eli can also dig through the garbage with the stealthiness of the most trained assassin. Of course, he proudly presents to us, with a gigantic smile, the garbage he manages to extract from the can and his cover is totally blown. But all has to do is flash that oh, so toothy grin (Dr. Vicki informed me that he has two extra baby teeth, oddly enough, which totally freaks me out), and much of my irritation and frustration dissolves in an instant.
I desperately want to raise wonderful boys who grow into wonderful men, and I told Cole last night that I was going to get some books about parenting strong willed children to make sure I do things right with Eli. His strong will amazes me, but I know that if I raise him to know what is right, what is wrong, and what is expected and required of him, I will never have to worry about anyone else convincing him otherwise. He is just way too stubborn to change his mind once he has made a decision. Eli constantly looks like he is ready to get into trouble, but I know that he has a heart of gold, and he definitely doesn't want to be a bad kid. He's just so curious about the world around him he doesn't want to wait around for someone to show it to him. He wants to see it and explore it right now, and if he gets into some sticky situations along the way, then so be it. A desire to learn about everything is a wonderful thing to have.
My dad has been an excellent father, and over the past five years, even when the outlook was beyond bleak, he has been the most devoted and caring husband a woman could ever ask for. No matter how emotionally or physically exhausted he was, he never let a single need or want of my mom's or me and my sisters go unfulfilled. When he felt like he didn't have anything left to give, he asked for help from above to find more. If that isn't admirable, then I don't know what is. I always think that kids should be recognized as being their little own person and embraced for being just that. But when it comes to embracing Eli as being a shrunken version of my dad, well, I can't think of a better person to miniaturize.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Hot Child in the City
I am about to state the obvious. This week has been HOT! I mean absolutely stifling. Lucky for us, we have a FANTASTIC public pool and a season pass, and every afternoon this week we have been loading up in the car and driving to the pool to beat the heat. We have been to the pool a lot this summer. Ian and Eli are a couple of little pollywogs. Eli loves to fill cups of water over and over and over again as well as "float" on his back. Ian loves everything pool oriented but especially pretending to be Hamilton Porter from "The Sandlot" and screaming, "CANNONBALL!!!!!!" and jumping in. He also refers to all of the female lifeguards as "Wendy Peffercorn." It's adorable. Almost like clockwork, after about one hour and forty minutes, Ian will ask, "Can we go home now?" and we get back in the car, come home, and enjoy nice LONG naps. The exhausting power of the swimming pool is something no mere mortal can ever match. I adore the pool.
Our awesome public pool. It's just one year old so everything is in great shape!
In all our hours at the pool, I have seen hundreds of moms and found that they all fit into one of six specific categories. I have created summaries of each of the categories, highlighting the most identifiable traits of each type of mother. I am not above this. I, too, fit into one of the common "mama categories". Please enjoy the findings in my study of human behavior.
HOT MAMA
The hot mama is exactly what it sounds like. She is the woman who gave birth to twins, who each weighed over seven pounds, and hasn't a single stretch mark or square millimeter of loose or saggy skin. Her stomach is perfectly toned, even though she "can't seem to loose the baby weight." (Exasperated sigh from hot mama, silent cursing from anyone who heard her lament) EVERYONE not within the hot mama category, despises the hot mama. The hot mama never looks like she is about to wrangle little ones. Quite the contrary. She looks like she just left the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition photo shoot. While the other mothers are in conservative tankinis with skirted bottoms, the hot mama's bathing suit is made of less material than her child's. One small tug and the hot mama's breasts, which have miraculously been made even perkier from breastfeeding (much, much, much more silent cursing), will be in full view. The hot mama spends her time sunning herself in the shallow end while her children splash happily around her because they too are aware of how hot their mama truly is and want her in close proximity.
SOCIALITE
First of all, I use this term quite liberally considering we live in "Mayberry", but even in Mayberry, the socialite exists in some form. This mother usually has her mother, sister, cousin, or "helper" with her and her single child. The socialite spends her pool time hours visiting (gossiping) with every single person in the pool except her own child and assistant care giver. The socialite basks in the sun, cools off in the fountain, and relaxes in the water while a never ending stream of conversation (gossip) issues from her mouth. In between juicy tidbits about fellow moms (could Jane's bathing suit be any smaller?), the socialite is able to commiserate with fellow socialites about how truly difficult it is to be the attentive mothers they are. The socialite, of course, is blissfully unaware of her child's care giver's struggles. While the child is wreaking havoc in the pool, the socialite's "helper" is responsible for keeping the child in line but is not allowed to use any form of discipline because can you IMAGINE what people would say?! The horror! In reality, the "helper" could whip the child into shape within five minutes of being alone with the child, but the socialite had children so she could BE with them. She can't stand the thought of someone else being responsible for HER children. "Why have children if you aren't going to be the one who raises them?" she opines. The socialite is, in her mind, just getting her well deserved break after a solid seventeen minutes of parenting on her own this week. Who knew parenting was going to take so much time!?
RELAXER
The relaxer is a very difficult mother to understand. She is most likely someone who does not get much help with the rearing of her children and uses the lifeguard as a temporary babysitter. Other mother's are quick to identify the relaxer and claim their pool territory accordingly. The relaxer will sit on the side of the pool while her child dunks toddlers a mere yard away from her. She does not reprimand her child nor does she apologize to the victim. She relaxes while the lifeguard is left to parent her child. The relaxer sits idly by while her child slides down the slide and lands on the previous slider. The lifeguard will once again instruct the child on proper pool etiquette while the relaxer simply applies more sunblock to herself, but not her child. The reason lifeguards rotate positions within the confines of the pool every 15 minutes is not to keep them alert, but to keep them from being driven to murder after prolonged exposure to the same relaxers. The relaxer will be at the pool from the second it opens until the second it closes in order to shift the responsibility of her child onto someone other than herself. The relaxer receives multiple dirty looks during the course of her visit, yet has never acknowledged a single one.
SMOTHER MOTHER
The "smother mother" is always easy to spot. The smother mother is most commonly parent to one child only. She is the mother who is feeding her four-year-old cereal because she doesn't want his terribly unclean hands to touch his Cheerios before they enter his mouth. She has been searching desperately for an amphibious stroller, but to no avail. Her child will actually have to get into the water with absolutely no restraints. (GASP!) The smother mother is the ONLY person with which her child is allowed to interact because who knows what types of unspeakably filthy ideas the other three and four-year-olds in the pool will contaminate her child's brain with. The smother mother is also shoving age-INappropriate facts down her seriously uninterested child's throat at all times because HER child is going to be the smartest. Example: "The pool is full of water. A single molecule of water is comprised of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom. The molecular weight of water is 18.015 g/mol. The water is treated with chlorine. The atomic symbol for chlorine is Cl. Now, an interesting fact about chlorine is....." The smother mother does not realize that what she has just accomplished is nothing. She would have been much better off discussing colors, shapes, and counting groups of objects. Of course, that is often too simple for the smother mother's child who knows better than all of us morons roaming the earth that everything in the world is actually the color: chicken. (Proud smile from the smother mother.) The smother mother undoubtedly loves her child more than anything in the world, which is how it should be. But in her ideal world, she never would have given birth to her child to begin with. The child would have remained in utero and she would have simply had a porthole installed in her abdomen so people could look through and see her baby, but definitely never touch it or interact with it without getting express written consent from her first.
HOVER MOTHER
This is the category into which I fit. The hover mother prides herself on letting her kids be kids. She encourages them to explore everything on their own. The children of a hover mother are found splashing merrily in the water with siblings or other kids while experiencing a sense of independence and freedom. This sense of independence is of course, entirely false. The hover mother NEVER lets her children get more than one giant step and one arm's length away. The hover mother is also the go to gal for consumer ratings on children's leashes. Her kids are trustworthy enough to walk instead of ride in the stroller, but still not trustworthy enough to walk instead of ride in the stroller. The hover mother is always very, very, very carefully supervising her children's independent play. She doesn't interfere unless necessary, no matter how appalled she is at other children's behavior. (If that little brat looks at him like that one more time.....) Hover mother is always laden with tote bags because she wants to make sure she is prepared for any situation, yet often forgets necessities (diaper wipes) at home. The most important thing to remember about any hover mother is that she is a reformed smother mother. Once she had baby number two, she was forced to relax and then realized what a lunatic she once was. But as soon as she gets one good look at dirt-caked fingernails, she crosses right back over to the dark side (temporarily). Hover mother is constantly a work in progress.
SUPERMOM
Supermom is the most elusive species of pool moms. Supermom arrives with a minimum of three perfectly groomed and attired children in tow, one moderately sized beach bag, a sporty yet stylish bathing suit, and a glowing smile. Supermom's children are responsible, well-mannered, respectful, and independent. Supermom has earned the right to sit in a lounge chair and read a book while her kids run off some energy. But supermom is not taking time off. No, no. She has trained herself to read with her left eye while keeping her right eye focused on all of her children. Her children know they can rely on her for anything and everything. Supermom is able to fulfill any request of her children.
Child 1: "Mom, can I have some water?"
Supermom: "Yes. There are cold bottles in the bag."
Child 2: "Mom, did we bring the watering can?"
Supermom: "Of course. It's in the bag."
Child 3: "Mom, all of the shady spots are taken, and the family that just showed up has a small baby that should be in the shade. Did we bring our 12' cantilever umbrella with 5 piece patio set and outdoor air conditioner?"
Supermom: (Smiling) "Yes. It's in the bag. Would you like for me to help you set it up for that family?"
Supermom is who ALL of the moms, even some of the hot mamas, truly want to be. She is in control, prepared, relaxed, and makes parenting look like a piece of cake. When it is time to go, supermom's children happily clamor out of the pool and quickly dry off and head to their freshly detailed car in the parking lot, which supermom has remotely started and has already cooled to a delightful 72 degrees.
Maybe I should state my qualifications to make such assessments. I have two eyes and two kids. I can see what is going on around me, and I have had to deal with all sorts of behavior from my boys. In other words, I'm highly educated in this area. I'm sure some of you think, "I don't fit into any of those categories", or "I'm a combination of those categories." I assure you, you are not. If you fit into the "hot mama" and "supermom" categories, I promise you that to the other moms you are ONLY seen as the "hot mama" and are therefore hated along with your flat stomach. If you think you are a "relaxer" who controls their children, I assure you that NOBODY else sees it this way, and I encourage you to mom up and get your kids in line without the assistance of the lifeguard. Other combinations may exist, but believe me when I tell you, no other person sees you as a combination. They have assigned you to your category and there you shall remain.
My deepest desire is to some day be supermom, but with only two children. I long to be the woman that glides through life, happily tending to all those around her with a smile on her face and nothing but love in her heart. I want to be the mother whose children know they can turn to her for anything and there she will be with a cool drink, a bandage, a funny joke, or a set of loving arms at the ready. I am constantly reminding myself how far I have come in the last three years and how much farther along I will be in another three years. I am definitely a work in progress. Being a mother hasn't been easy, but it has brought more happiness to my life than anything else has ever come close to bringing. For now, I am content knowing that I am a "hover mother" who is working towards becoming "supermom." If at some point I accidentally morph into a "hot mama" that would be cool, but God help me if I ever become a "relaxer."
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
How to Throw a Party Step 2: Creating the invitations
For my boys' parties, I prefer to make the invitations. For Ian's monster truck birthday party I decided to make the invitations look like monster truck wheels. This was a very simple design that would absolutely let everyone know that our party was going to be awesome. I went to Hobby Lobby to buy all of the supplies I needed for the invitations. I had a general idea in my mind of how I wanted the invitations to look, but I didn't have an exact list of what I needed. I am not a scrapbooker or crafter, so figuring out what I needed and where it was in the store was about as challenging for me as fixing a car's transmission. After an hour, yes an HOUR, of shopping I had carefully selected everything I needed in order to give my guests the most amazing first impression ever.
Invitations are SO important to your party's success. The invitation is the first impression your guests are going to have of your party. It needs to clearly convey the theme of the party so the guests can get excited about what is in store for them. Are you overwhelmed just thinking about making your own invitations? Don't be! I am going to walk you through the process step by step, and you are soon going to be looking at your fabulous creation wondering why you didn't do this last year.
While everyone needs to choose a design that is appropriate for his/her theme, I am going to walk you through the process of creating Ian's invitations so you can see just how enjoyable and rewarding this process can truly be. In order to create the monster truck wheel invites, you will need to buy and/or gather the following supplies. Then follow the simple instructions that follow, and viola! Custom invitations.
The Supplies
24 5 1/2 in X 5 1/2 in Black folding card stock
24 Envelopes of a complimentary color (don't get square envelopes as they require extra postage)
2 Sheets of reflective silver scrapbook paper (12 in x 12 in sheets)
1 Pack of 250 count red, small hole sequins
3 Sheets of 8 1/2 in X 11 in self adhesive 2 mm black craft foam
3 Packs of metallic dots, adhesive backed scrapbook page trim
1 Box of mounting squares (precut double stick tape)
1 White marker for dark paper
1 Vanishing ink pen
1 5 in diameter bowl or other circular object to use as a pattern for the tire
1 2 in diameter circular object to use as a pattern for the rim
1 Pair of Scissors
1 Ruler
1 Sharpie
The Instructions
1. Using the 5 in diameter bowl, trace a circle onto each of the 24 black cards. Be sure to place the bowl slightly over the edge of the spine of the card so you will still have a bi-fold circle after you cut the card into a circle.
2. After all 24 cards have a circle traced on them, cut the cards into their circular shapes. Hold the scissors steady and only turn the card in order to cut a smooth edge.
**What? What do you mean your fingers hurt? You've only cut 11 tires! No, you can't take a break. Pick up those scissors and cut the remaining 13 tires. PICK UP THOSE SCISSORS!!!**
3. Continue cutting the square cards into circles. Don't worry, I'll wait until you finish.
**Now, that wasn't so bad was it? It probably only took you around an hour and a half to cut the tires. Now, might be a good time to take some Tylenol. Those little fingers of yours are probably a little sore and we still have a lot to cut.**
**The next 11 steps involve creating the treads for the tires. They might seem daunting, but don't worry. I won't lead you astray.**
4. Place one sheet of the 2 mm self adhesive black craft foam face down.
5. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1 3/4 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
6. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1/4 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
7. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1 1/2 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
8. Along the bottom of the sheet of foam, make a small dot every inch starting 1/2 in. from the edge of the sheet.
9. Along the line 1 3/4 inches from the bottom of the sheet of foam, make a small dot every inch starting from the edge of the sheet.
10. Using your ruler connect the dots using a zig-zag pattern from the left edge of the foam all the way to the right.
11. Cut the foam sheet along the line 1/4 inch from the bottom of the sheet.
12. Cut the foam along the line originally 1 1/2 inch, now 1 1/4 inch, from the bottom of the sheet.
13. Cut each of the individual triangles so they will have blunt tips and not points.
14. Repeat steps 4-13 twelve times, only use the remaining 1/4 inch guide line from the previous triangles as the bottom guide line for the next set of triangles.
**See, those instructions were SO simple. Especially number 14! You are going to need 192 triangles to complete your invitations, so don't stop snipping foam until you have BLISTERS! Hahaha. I'm only kidding. But, you should have callouses by now, otherwise, making the wheels is going to be torture. Oh, heavens!**
**When cutting the reflective silver scrapbook paper you are going to want scissors as sharp as Ginsu knives. or else you are going to have mangled circles in stead of "chrome" rims.**
15. Place the reflective silver scrapbook paper face down.
16. Using your 2 in diameter circular object (I used the bottom of a cup), trace 24 circles (you might want to trace 14-15 extra as backups) onto the back of the scrapbook paper. Trace the circles far enough apart that you can cut each tracing out on a square of paper.
17. Trim each square into a circle CARE-FUL-LY!!! Remember to hold your scissors stead and only turn the card in order to cut a smooth edge. Reflective silver scrapbook paper shows EV-ER-Y flaw and mistake.
**Why are you complaining? The prep work is the hardest part of any project. In the long run, you are going to think...."That was the best 3 1/2 hours of my life!" Oh, geez, you big baby, go ice your fingers! I'll be here when your fingers "stop cramping" and your hand no longer "resembles a claw."**
**Oh, good. You're back. Are you ready to assemble? Great! Now it is time to see the fruits of your labor.**
18. Stick four mounting squares onto the back of a circle of reflective silver scrapbook paper.
19. Peal the backing off of the mounting squares.
20. Position the reflective silver circle in the middle of the black card and press firmly onto the card.
21. Stick one mounting square onto the back of a red sequin.
22. Peal the backing off of the mounting square.
23. Position the red sequin in the middle of the reflective silver circle and press firmly onto the circle.
**No, you aren't having an allergic reaction to the mounting squares, they are actually pulling your skin off. Don't worry, it will grow back.**
24. Lightly mark the outer edges of the black card every 90 degrees.
25. Peal the backing off of four black foam triangles and press them into place using the light marks from step 24 as a guide.
26. Peal the backing off of four more black foam triangles and press them into place, centering them between the triangles affixed to the card in step 25.
27. Carefully, cut eight metallic dots from the adhesive backed, metallic dot scrapbook page trim.
28. Affix the dots, offset from the "treads", around the reflective silver circle in the middle of the card.
Oh, my gosh! You did it. Wasn't that a breeze? I'll bet that you had no idea that all it would take to have custom invitations to your party was $42.38, 4 1/2 hours of labor, 29 simple steps, and quite possibly a case of Carpal Tunnel! You feel silly for all of those years when you just went to the store and bought your invitations, don't you? Well, let's not dwell on the past. Just know that you are now a "Party Planning Diva" (or Divo)!
Don't think that the crafting is over. You still have plenty of party preparations to perfect, but don't worry. I will be here to guide and inspire every step of the way. If you think this was involved, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The next project........entertainment!
Invitations are SO important to your party's success. The invitation is the first impression your guests are going to have of your party. It needs to clearly convey the theme of the party so the guests can get excited about what is in store for them. Are you overwhelmed just thinking about making your own invitations? Don't be! I am going to walk you through the process step by step, and you are soon going to be looking at your fabulous creation wondering why you didn't do this last year.
STEP 2: Creating the invitations
The design of the invitation is something you should imagine before you ever leave the house to buy supplies. If you wait until you get to the craft store to be inspired, you're going to be thoroughly overwhelmed. There is a lot of stuff in craft stores. If you don't have a plan before you go, there is a chance that your party invitation supplies will be a combination of wedding, Halloween, and vacation bible school crafts with a few rooster decorations for good measure. (If this is really your theme, please send me an invitation to the party just so I can see how you put this all together.) In other words, it could be disastrous.While everyone needs to choose a design that is appropriate for his/her theme, I am going to walk you through the process of creating Ian's invitations so you can see just how enjoyable and rewarding this process can truly be. In order to create the monster truck wheel invites, you will need to buy and/or gather the following supplies. Then follow the simple instructions that follow, and viola! Custom invitations.
The Supplies
24 5 1/2 in X 5 1/2 in Black folding card stock
24 Envelopes of a complimentary color (don't get square envelopes as they require extra postage)
2 Sheets of reflective silver scrapbook paper (12 in x 12 in sheets)
1 Pack of 250 count red, small hole sequins
3 Sheets of 8 1/2 in X 11 in self adhesive 2 mm black craft foam
3 Packs of metallic dots, adhesive backed scrapbook page trim
1 Box of mounting squares (precut double stick tape)
1 White marker for dark paper
1 Vanishing ink pen
1 5 in diameter bowl or other circular object to use as a pattern for the tire
1 2 in diameter circular object to use as a pattern for the rim
1 Pair of Scissors
1 Ruler
1 Sharpie
The Instructions
1. Using the 5 in diameter bowl, trace a circle onto each of the 24 black cards. Be sure to place the bowl slightly over the edge of the spine of the card so you will still have a bi-fold circle after you cut the card into a circle.
2. After all 24 cards have a circle traced on them, cut the cards into their circular shapes. Hold the scissors steady and only turn the card in order to cut a smooth edge.
**What? What do you mean your fingers hurt? You've only cut 11 tires! No, you can't take a break. Pick up those scissors and cut the remaining 13 tires. PICK UP THOSE SCISSORS!!!**
3. Continue cutting the square cards into circles. Don't worry, I'll wait until you finish.
**Now, that wasn't so bad was it? It probably only took you around an hour and a half to cut the tires. Now, might be a good time to take some Tylenol. Those little fingers of yours are probably a little sore and we still have a lot to cut.**
**The next 11 steps involve creating the treads for the tires. They might seem daunting, but don't worry. I won't lead you astray.**
4. Place one sheet of the 2 mm self adhesive black craft foam face down.
5. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1 3/4 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
6. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1/4 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
7. With the aid of your ruler, use your Sharpie to draw a parallel line 1 1/2 in. from the bottom of the sheet.
8. Along the bottom of the sheet of foam, make a small dot every inch starting 1/2 in. from the edge of the sheet.
9. Along the line 1 3/4 inches from the bottom of the sheet of foam, make a small dot every inch starting from the edge of the sheet.
10. Using your ruler connect the dots using a zig-zag pattern from the left edge of the foam all the way to the right.
11. Cut the foam sheet along the line 1/4 inch from the bottom of the sheet.
12. Cut the foam along the line originally 1 1/2 inch, now 1 1/4 inch, from the bottom of the sheet.
13. Cut each of the individual triangles so they will have blunt tips and not points.
14. Repeat steps 4-13 twelve times, only use the remaining 1/4 inch guide line from the previous triangles as the bottom guide line for the next set of triangles.
**See, those instructions were SO simple. Especially number 14! You are going to need 192 triangles to complete your invitations, so don't stop snipping foam until you have BLISTERS! Hahaha. I'm only kidding. But, you should have callouses by now, otherwise, making the wheels is going to be torture. Oh, heavens!**
**When cutting the reflective silver scrapbook paper you are going to want scissors as sharp as Ginsu knives. or else you are going to have mangled circles in stead of "chrome" rims.**
15. Place the reflective silver scrapbook paper face down.
16. Using your 2 in diameter circular object (I used the bottom of a cup), trace 24 circles (you might want to trace 14-15 extra as backups) onto the back of the scrapbook paper. Trace the circles far enough apart that you can cut each tracing out on a square of paper.
17. Trim each square into a circle CARE-FUL-LY!!! Remember to hold your scissors stead and only turn the card in order to cut a smooth edge. Reflective silver scrapbook paper shows EV-ER-Y flaw and mistake.
**Why are you complaining? The prep work is the hardest part of any project. In the long run, you are going to think...."That was the best 3 1/2 hours of my life!" Oh, geez, you big baby, go ice your fingers! I'll be here when your fingers "stop cramping" and your hand no longer "resembles a claw."**
**Oh, good. You're back. Are you ready to assemble? Great! Now it is time to see the fruits of your labor.**
18. Stick four mounting squares onto the back of a circle of reflective silver scrapbook paper.
19. Peal the backing off of the mounting squares.
20. Position the reflective silver circle in the middle of the black card and press firmly onto the card.
21. Stick one mounting square onto the back of a red sequin.
22. Peal the backing off of the mounting square.
23. Position the red sequin in the middle of the reflective silver circle and press firmly onto the circle.
**No, you aren't having an allergic reaction to the mounting squares, they are actually pulling your skin off. Don't worry, it will grow back.**
24. Lightly mark the outer edges of the black card every 90 degrees.
25. Peal the backing off of four black foam triangles and press them into place using the light marks from step 24 as a guide.
26. Peal the backing off of four more black foam triangles and press them into place, centering them between the triangles affixed to the card in step 25.
**Your fingers are turning black from the foam? Yes, well, that will happen. The blackness should fade in 7-10 days. Just remember to use soap, paint thinner, and high octane gasoline every time you wash your hands.**
28. Affix the dots, offset from the "treads", around the reflective silver circle in the middle of the card.
29. Toss the vanishing ink pen into a draw or other storage container because it is of absolutely no help.
Admire your handiwork!!!!!
The Finished Product
Oh, my gosh! You did it. Wasn't that a breeze? I'll bet that you had no idea that all it would take to have custom invitations to your party was $42.38, 4 1/2 hours of labor, 29 simple steps, and quite possibly a case of Carpal Tunnel! You feel silly for all of those years when you just went to the store and bought your invitations, don't you? Well, let's not dwell on the past. Just know that you are now a "Party Planning Diva" (or Divo)!
Don't think that the crafting is over. You still have plenty of party preparations to perfect, but don't worry. I will be here to guide and inspire every step of the way. If you think this was involved, you ain't seen nothin' yet! The next project........entertainment!
Monday, July 11, 2011
How to Throw a Party Step 1: Choose the party's theme
ATTN: This is the first in a series of entries. However, you will be able to follow along if you miss entries along the way. This isn't going to be like being totally lost when you watch City Slickers II before you ever watch City Slickers.
In a little less than a month, Ian will turn three. I am DREADING this birthday. The time is just going by way too fast, and I hate to think that he could be starting preschool this year. I've heard parents talk about how they can't wait until their kid is in school so they can have a break, but I am NOT one of those parents. I love a break as much as the next stay-at-home-mom, but I just hate the thought of Ian not being with me because he is growing up and there's nothing I can do about it. Instead I get my breaks in two hour doses every few weeks when we go home for the weekend. They are ALWAYS so refreshing, and sometimes long overdue. But anyway, I love the opportunity to put together a party, and I can't think of a better reason to party than honoring one of my boys! So, the planning is in full swing, and this is going to be my finest creation yet.
I like my parties to be just a little different from most kids' parties. I don't like to go to the party store and buy the "Birthday Beach Bash" party set or the "Fun Fireman Fiesta" party set. Let me be perfectly clear, there is NOTHING wrong with the party sets. They are fantastic and make planning your parties so simple. I avoid these sets because I am a stay-at-home-mom so I have MUCH more time to get things together that a mom who is away from home nine hours a day. Yet another reason why I love the fact that we are a traditional family.
Some of you are probably thinking, "Ugh. Is she out of her mind? Why torture yourself when you can just go to the party store and be done with it?" Well, you must not realize how simple putting together a custom party can be. Also, I am a glutton for punishment. Follow me through the process of planning Ian's third birthday party, and I guarantee you will never looking at party planning the same way ever again!
STEP 1: Choose the party's theme
The first step is to decide upon a theme. Cole and I obviously wanted to make Ian's own personal interests guide our theme decision. I suggest making a Top Ten list so you can look at your choices while making your decision. Seeing the idea on paper can help you to decide which ideas will be a smash and which ideas may be hard to execute. You may find penning this list to be somewhat difficult. How can a young child have a Top Ten Interests list? The most important thing is to be honest when writing the list. Only write down your child's true interests, not what you wish your child was interested in. It might be helpful to use the following list of Ian's Top Ten Interests to serve as a guide for your own list.
1. Fighting with Eli
2. Bossing around Eli
3. Fighting with Eli
4. Screaming contests with Eli
5. Bossing around Eli
6. General mischief (planning and execution)
7. Anything with wheels
8. Bossing around Eli
9. Giving me a "haircut"
10. Stealing toys from Eli
Once your list is complete, I suggest looking for a dominant trend within the list. Usually a quick once over will allow you to easily see the trend. Let's practice by using Ian's list. Can you see a trend in Ian's list? That's right! Tormenting Eli. I told you this was easy! Tormenting Eli is Ian's favorite activity, and it takes up much of his day. (Don't feel sorry for Eli, he gets his revenge on Ian on an hourly basis.)
Once you have identified the dominant trend in your list, it is time to make a rough plan of how the party will be executed to decide if this is an idea worth pursuing. You will need to consider invitations, refreshments, games/entertainment, the cake, and party favors. These are the details that will really make or break the party atmosphere. To help you along the way to planning the details of your own party, let's revisit the theme of Ian's party and start brain storming. Write down any ideas that come to mind. You'll be surprised at just how creative you are. Just like The Imagination Movers say, "There are no bad ideas when you're braaaaaaaainstormin'."
INVITATIONS
Personally, I prefer to make the invitations for the boys' parties. This is definitely not something every mom wants to try. It can be intimidating, but don't get all worked up about that right now. You are simply brainstorming; nothing is set in stone. The invitation is going to be the guests' first look at the party. You want to clearly convey the theme of the party. The appearance of the invitation is going to be what gets your guests fired up and ready to party their hienies off. For a "tormenting Eli" themed party the invitation could look like a gigantic, screaming mouth that is wide open. Inside it could say....
"You ARE coming to my party on Sunday. Yes you are! Yes you are! You are too! It IS going to be at the park, and you better not be late! Mooooooooooooom!!!!!!!!!!!"
Now everyone realizes this party is going to be all about confrontation and they get pumped up to get in the middle of all the "brotherly love" that fills our house on a daily basis.
REFRESHMENTS
In order to give the party an authentic feel, the refreshments will need to be the normal "comfort foods" that we use in order to make boo-boos feel better. Popsicles are always a crowd pleaser. In fact, when Ian got his stitches a couple of months ago, the hospital staff gave him AND Eli popsicles. To drink, a nice bottle of salt water could be served to emulate the tears that flow like wine at our house. Black licorice could also be served as a way to represent the punishment that accompanies tormenting. I mean, who actually likes black licorice? It is disgusting.
GAMES & ENTERTAINMENT
This is the category where you really get to be creative. For Ian's party we could do something simple for the younger kids like Stick the Band-Aid on the Owie, a variation of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. The kids who are just a little older could have fun designing splits made from house hold items. Perhaps they could use a spatula and a ladle and secure them to an "injured" arm with a belt in order to immobilize it. Just let the creativity flow! The older guests could have a blast naming all of the signs of a concussion in 30 seconds or less. Kids of all ages could participate in a round robin "Keep Your Nose in that Corner Until I Say So!" tournament. This party is just overflowing with fun!
CAKE
Since tormenting Eli frequently ends in someone bleeding, the cake should obviously be red velvet. The icing could be a mix of purple, green, and yellow to resemble a bruise. The shape of the cake be a head or an arm, the most common points of attack. The individual cake served to the birthday boy could be in the shape of a time-out chair. I personally like the big cake and individual cake to coordinate. Some people just prefer to let the birthday boy have the first slice of the big cake. The choice is yours. Go with whatever your find to be more appropriate.
PARTY FAVORS
The party favors are such an important part of the party. What you send home with your guests will be their last impression of your party, and it is going to be a constant reminder to your guests that your party was amazing! For this particular party, the treat bag, which should actually be something useful like an arm sling, could hold a box of Band-Aids, an ice pack, and a time-out mat (you want to cover all aspects of the tormenting).
Now that you have finished brainstorming it's time to evaluate whether or not the idea is something that will be executed easily. Are your guests going to get it? Are they going to enjoy themselves? Let's look back at the results of our brainstorm for Ian's party. When closely examining the rough and dirty details of Ian's party, you can probably see that there is a slight chance that the essence of the party might get lost in translation. Some guests might feel as though the party is in poor taste. Some guests might just feel a little uncomfortable. Neither of these scenarios is acceptable!!! The ultimate hostess makes sure that every single person at the party is having so much fun that they are praying that time slows down so the party can last forever. In all honesty, some guests may wish for time to speed up at the "Tormenting Eli" party, so, unfortunately, Ian's most cherished pastime is not going to be the theme of the party this year.
You might also find that your dominant theme will lead to a party that will be difficult to execute. That's okay. That is why you wrote a Top Ten list and not a Top One list. Simply refer back to your list to find the second best idea. Since tormenting Eli is no longer an option, there are only two party theme ideas left on Ian's list: anything with wheels or giving me a "haircut". Well, call me a mean old mom, but I am NOT letting the "haircut" become the theme as Ian's "haircuts" are incredibly painful twisting and pulling regimens that are responsible for many a headache and bald patch. No thanks.
That leaves "anything with wheels" as the best choice. Now we need to narrow down "anything" to something more specific. Currently, Ian's favorite toys are his monster trucks. If there is anything in the house that gets played with on a daily basis it is most definitely the monster trucks. The monster trucks, especially Monster Mutt Dalmation, are CONSTANTLY a point of conflict between Ian and Eli. There is always a fight over who gets Monster Mutt, which is technically Eli's. Oh, my gosh! Do you realize what just happened? I just figured out a way to incorporate TWO of Ian's favorite activities into ONE party! Since Ian loves playing with monster trucks and tormenting Eli, which always occurs during monster truck play time, I have now covered his favorite activities in a party that won't leave guests completing freaked out. Holy cow, this party is going to be SO incredible!
By now you should also be at a point where a perfect theme has been identified. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on making your decision. Over the next four weeks I will be documenting the planning and execution of Ian's birthday party to serve as a guide for planning your own party. I promise you this, the planning only gets more thrilling from here because the next step is the invitations. Get your crafting hats on, this is about to get good!
In a little less than a month, Ian will turn three. I am DREADING this birthday. The time is just going by way too fast, and I hate to think that he could be starting preschool this year. I've heard parents talk about how they can't wait until their kid is in school so they can have a break, but I am NOT one of those parents. I love a break as much as the next stay-at-home-mom, but I just hate the thought of Ian not being with me because he is growing up and there's nothing I can do about it. Instead I get my breaks in two hour doses every few weeks when we go home for the weekend. They are ALWAYS so refreshing, and sometimes long overdue. But anyway, I love the opportunity to put together a party, and I can't think of a better reason to party than honoring one of my boys! So, the planning is in full swing, and this is going to be my finest creation yet.
I like my parties to be just a little different from most kids' parties. I don't like to go to the party store and buy the "Birthday Beach Bash" party set or the "Fun Fireman Fiesta" party set. Let me be perfectly clear, there is NOTHING wrong with the party sets. They are fantastic and make planning your parties so simple. I avoid these sets because I am a stay-at-home-mom so I have MUCH more time to get things together that a mom who is away from home nine hours a day. Yet another reason why I love the fact that we are a traditional family.
Some of you are probably thinking, "Ugh. Is she out of her mind? Why torture yourself when you can just go to the party store and be done with it?" Well, you must not realize how simple putting together a custom party can be. Also, I am a glutton for punishment. Follow me through the process of planning Ian's third birthday party, and I guarantee you will never looking at party planning the same way ever again!
STEP 1: Choose the party's theme
The first step is to decide upon a theme. Cole and I obviously wanted to make Ian's own personal interests guide our theme decision. I suggest making a Top Ten list so you can look at your choices while making your decision. Seeing the idea on paper can help you to decide which ideas will be a smash and which ideas may be hard to execute. You may find penning this list to be somewhat difficult. How can a young child have a Top Ten Interests list? The most important thing is to be honest when writing the list. Only write down your child's true interests, not what you wish your child was interested in. It might be helpful to use the following list of Ian's Top Ten Interests to serve as a guide for your own list.
1. Fighting with Eli
2. Bossing around Eli
3. Fighting with Eli
4. Screaming contests with Eli
5. Bossing around Eli
6. General mischief (planning and execution)
7. Anything with wheels
8. Bossing around Eli
9. Giving me a "haircut"
10. Stealing toys from Eli
Once your list is complete, I suggest looking for a dominant trend within the list. Usually a quick once over will allow you to easily see the trend. Let's practice by using Ian's list. Can you see a trend in Ian's list? That's right! Tormenting Eli. I told you this was easy! Tormenting Eli is Ian's favorite activity, and it takes up much of his day. (Don't feel sorry for Eli, he gets his revenge on Ian on an hourly basis.)
Once you have identified the dominant trend in your list, it is time to make a rough plan of how the party will be executed to decide if this is an idea worth pursuing. You will need to consider invitations, refreshments, games/entertainment, the cake, and party favors. These are the details that will really make or break the party atmosphere. To help you along the way to planning the details of your own party, let's revisit the theme of Ian's party and start brain storming. Write down any ideas that come to mind. You'll be surprised at just how creative you are. Just like The Imagination Movers say, "There are no bad ideas when you're braaaaaaaainstormin'."
INVITATIONS
Personally, I prefer to make the invitations for the boys' parties. This is definitely not something every mom wants to try. It can be intimidating, but don't get all worked up about that right now. You are simply brainstorming; nothing is set in stone. The invitation is going to be the guests' first look at the party. You want to clearly convey the theme of the party. The appearance of the invitation is going to be what gets your guests fired up and ready to party their hienies off. For a "tormenting Eli" themed party the invitation could look like a gigantic, screaming mouth that is wide open. Inside it could say....
"You ARE coming to my party on Sunday. Yes you are! Yes you are! You are too! It IS going to be at the park, and you better not be late! Mooooooooooooom!!!!!!!!!!!"
Now everyone realizes this party is going to be all about confrontation and they get pumped up to get in the middle of all the "brotherly love" that fills our house on a daily basis.
REFRESHMENTS
In order to give the party an authentic feel, the refreshments will need to be the normal "comfort foods" that we use in order to make boo-boos feel better. Popsicles are always a crowd pleaser. In fact, when Ian got his stitches a couple of months ago, the hospital staff gave him AND Eli popsicles. To drink, a nice bottle of salt water could be served to emulate the tears that flow like wine at our house. Black licorice could also be served as a way to represent the punishment that accompanies tormenting. I mean, who actually likes black licorice? It is disgusting.
GAMES & ENTERTAINMENT
This is the category where you really get to be creative. For Ian's party we could do something simple for the younger kids like Stick the Band-Aid on the Owie, a variation of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. The kids who are just a little older could have fun designing splits made from house hold items. Perhaps they could use a spatula and a ladle and secure them to an "injured" arm with a belt in order to immobilize it. Just let the creativity flow! The older guests could have a blast naming all of the signs of a concussion in 30 seconds or less. Kids of all ages could participate in a round robin "Keep Your Nose in that Corner Until I Say So!" tournament. This party is just overflowing with fun!
CAKE
Since tormenting Eli frequently ends in someone bleeding, the cake should obviously be red velvet. The icing could be a mix of purple, green, and yellow to resemble a bruise. The shape of the cake be a head or an arm, the most common points of attack. The individual cake served to the birthday boy could be in the shape of a time-out chair. I personally like the big cake and individual cake to coordinate. Some people just prefer to let the birthday boy have the first slice of the big cake. The choice is yours. Go with whatever your find to be more appropriate.
PARTY FAVORS
The party favors are such an important part of the party. What you send home with your guests will be their last impression of your party, and it is going to be a constant reminder to your guests that your party was amazing! For this particular party, the treat bag, which should actually be something useful like an arm sling, could hold a box of Band-Aids, an ice pack, and a time-out mat (you want to cover all aspects of the tormenting).
Now that you have finished brainstorming it's time to evaluate whether or not the idea is something that will be executed easily. Are your guests going to get it? Are they going to enjoy themselves? Let's look back at the results of our brainstorm for Ian's party. When closely examining the rough and dirty details of Ian's party, you can probably see that there is a slight chance that the essence of the party might get lost in translation. Some guests might feel as though the party is in poor taste. Some guests might just feel a little uncomfortable. Neither of these scenarios is acceptable!!! The ultimate hostess makes sure that every single person at the party is having so much fun that they are praying that time slows down so the party can last forever. In all honesty, some guests may wish for time to speed up at the "Tormenting Eli" party, so, unfortunately, Ian's most cherished pastime is not going to be the theme of the party this year.
You might also find that your dominant theme will lead to a party that will be difficult to execute. That's okay. That is why you wrote a Top Ten list and not a Top One list. Simply refer back to your list to find the second best idea. Since tormenting Eli is no longer an option, there are only two party theme ideas left on Ian's list: anything with wheels or giving me a "haircut". Well, call me a mean old mom, but I am NOT letting the "haircut" become the theme as Ian's "haircuts" are incredibly painful twisting and pulling regimens that are responsible for many a headache and bald patch. No thanks.
That leaves "anything with wheels" as the best choice. Now we need to narrow down "anything" to something more specific. Currently, Ian's favorite toys are his monster trucks. If there is anything in the house that gets played with on a daily basis it is most definitely the monster trucks. The monster trucks, especially Monster Mutt Dalmation, are CONSTANTLY a point of conflict between Ian and Eli. There is always a fight over who gets Monster Mutt, which is technically Eli's. Oh, my gosh! Do you realize what just happened? I just figured out a way to incorporate TWO of Ian's favorite activities into ONE party! Since Ian loves playing with monster trucks and tormenting Eli, which always occurs during monster truck play time, I have now covered his favorite activities in a party that won't leave guests completing freaked out. Holy cow, this party is going to be SO incredible!
By now you should also be at a point where a perfect theme has been identified. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on making your decision. Over the next four weeks I will be documenting the planning and execution of Ian's birthday party to serve as a guide for planning your own party. I promise you this, the planning only gets more thrilling from here because the next step is the invitations. Get your crafting hats on, this is about to get good!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Pat-A-Cake Pat-A-Cake
It's hard to believe that Father's Day has already come and gone. We had a great weekend. We had lunch and dinner dates with Cole's family and went to a minor league baseball game with mine. And, of course, there were presents! I got Cole a fire pit. I even spray painted it with high heat Rustoleum and assembled it so that I could give him the final product and not just a chore. I threw in all the needed accessories and S'mores fixins too, of course. I don't think that Cole will ever understand how terrific I think he is as a dad, but I think he is absolutely the best!
Cole is going to hate this, but I don't care. I have to brag about how he is truly the best dad in the world. Cole was SO jazzed from the very second I told him I was pregnant with Ian. He was absolutely ecstatic to become a dad, and as soon as Ian was born, he gave fatherhood his all. He has ALWAYS changed diapers without ever being asked, and he was always happy to feed the boys their bottles when they were babies. Before the boys slept through the night, I got up with them during the week since I could catch a nap during the day, but on the weekends Cole would get up in the middle of the night so I could have two nights of uninterrupted sleep each week. (Yes, he did this without a single sigh of exasperation.) Cole stayed home for one week after Eli was born, and he did EVERYTHING while I took care of Eli and rested as much as possible to get ready for wrangling two boys on my own. He gives the boys their baths every night because having my hands in water that frequently makes them so dry they crack open and bleed. Plus, Cole is more than willing to watch the boys in the evening and do the whole bath time/bedtime routine by himself while I go to night class. He will also take long lunch hours to watch the boys while I go to class during the day and then make up the lost time in the evening. Any time he has a job to do at home, he gets Ian and Eli in on it, and the three of them TCB. The boys adore Cole. He is SO involved in every single part of the boys' care and daily lives. Cole is just amazing. I don't know of any other wife/children who have such an incredible husband/father. Cole is the poster boy of "involved" fathers, and I'm so, so, so proud that he is such an amazing provider for our family that I have the incredible opportunity to stay at home and raise our children without babysitters or nannies. I am unbelievably thankful that we are a "traditional" family.
So for Father's Day I wanted to let Ian and Eli show their appreciation to their wonderful dad by choosing their own gift. While we were discussing the plan to buy Cole a fire pit I asked Ian what he would like to give his daddy for Father's Day. Ian said, "Let's make him a cake!" I thought that was a perfect idea. It was Ian's choice, and he would get to help do something nice for someone who lives to please him. When we went to the store Ian chose a chocolate cake mix, chocolate icing, and blue sprinkles. He looked so adorable in the baking aisle. He studied the shelves upon shelves of cake mixes so carefully. I'm sure he was just overwhelmed by all of the options, but it looked like he was getting ready to answer the million dollar question on a game show. My plan had been to bake the cake while Cole was out golfing with his step-dad on Saturday, but they got rained out and the boys and I didn't have any privacy to create our surprise. Unfortunately, the weekend slipped by and we never did get the cake baked. But Cole isn't big on sweets or junk food, so I don't think it was breaking his heart. However, today we spent Friday morning in the kitchen playing "Cake Boss", and we had a fantastic treat waiting for Cole when he got home from work.
Around 8:00 in the morning the boys and I headed to the kitchen. We pulled dining chairs up to the island so the boys could help with all of the steps. They were stripped down to their diapers because I'm not a complete idiot, and local health codes do not apply within the walls of our home. I knew this was not going to be a piece of cake. (Oh, Danielle. You cut-up!) But, it was their cake to make, and we only had a few dollars wrapped up in the ingredients, so I wasn't concerned about things going south. Or so I told myself.
The cake mix only required three additional ingredients: water, oil, and eggs. I chose the biggest mixing bowl we have knowing full well that anything smaller than a horse trough was going to be too small with Ian and Eli in control. But I wasn't about to go to Rural King, so I settled. I measured 1 1/3 cups of water first. I thought, we'll do water first so he can learn to pour things into the bowl slowly and if it spills, oh well. However, I had a bad case of white knuckles when it actually came time to hand Ian the measuring cup. I did not want to relinquish control because I was fairly certain there was going to be a sizable spill. I was picturing a mess similar to that caused by Prymatt Conehead's water breaking. How quickly my mood had changed. One second I was a carefree super-mom who was going with the flow, and the next, well, the next I was back to the neurotic woman who secretly refolds all of the bath towels after her husband folds them because the thought of terry cloth not folded to her exact specifications makes her panic. Ian was bouncing around in a state of jubilation while my heart raced. "It's only water. It's only water," I repeated to myself. Ian kept saying, "I want to do it!" Finally, I worked up the courage to let go of the measuring cup and place it in the hands of a very excited two-year-old. I coached from beside Ian's chair. "Slowly. Pour it slowly." The first 1/8 of a cup trickled into the bowl while I proudly watched Ian obeying my requests. As soon as I was ready to praise him for being a good listener, he decided to act like a lunatic and threw the rest of the water into the bowl. I watched in horror as the water rushed up the side of the bowl like a tidal wave. It crested just shy of three feet above the rim and was going to break right on top of Eli. I envisioned Eli being knocked backward off of his chair in slow motion: limbs flailing and screaming for help as he was carried down the hallway by the tsunami. Due to some inexplicable force of nature, the water changed directions in mid air and slowly lowered itself gently into the bowl without a single drop landing on the counter. I stood there in complete shock and awe. How in the world did Ian manage to do that? We all should have been drenched, and yet here we were looking at a mixing bowl with exactly 1 1/3 cups of water resting inside. Ian was beaming with pride. "More!" he called. Eli clapped enthusiastically in recognition of his brother's unbelievable pouring capabilities. What a pair.
I finally was able to snap out of my stupor and went back to measuring. 1/2 a cup of oil. Oil. I shuddered at the sight of the word. I really did not want to clean up oil. But, then again, Ian did manage to keep all of the water in the bowl (miraculously). I decided to just start coaching Ian earlier this time. As I was measuring the oil in the measuring cup I was already telling him, "You have to pour the oil sloooooooooowly. Very slowly." He didn't hear a single syllable of what I was saying because he and Eli were way too busy jumping up and down on their chairs while seeing who would be the first to shatter a glass with their shrill, unending screams of excitement. Sometimes I don't know why I bother speaking at all. I walked over to the island, and before I knew what was happening, Ian ripped the measuring cup out of my hands and once again threw the contents into the mixing bowl. "Aaaahhhh!!!!" I yelled while Eli laughed hysterically at his madcap brother. I felt like I was watching my towels being shoved into a linen closet without a single hem matching up and absolutely NO uniformity in folding technique. My heart was racing out of control, and my head was spinning. If this is what Ian and Eli consider civilized behavior we might as well get pet goats to live in their rooms. And while we're at it, we should just hang one of those disgusting sets of plastic testicles on the bumper of Cole's truck so the whole world knows just how "civilized" we are! "Calm down," I told myself. "We are not getting goats or plastic testicles. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are doing really well, and you need to get back into super-mom mode and tell that neurotic woman (my true self) to get the heck out of here!"
Half of the ingredients were already in the bowl. All I had to make it through was one more addition: the cake mix. I cut the entire crimped seam off of the top of the plastic bag. My hope was that when pouring the mix into the bowl, the water would instantly be absorbed and a fabulously lumpy mound of brown batter would be created within the large mixing bowl. This time I would not let go of the bag. I would simply trick the boys into believing they were the ones in charge. I gently shook the dry mix into the mixing bowl 1/8 of a cup at a time. Ian was holding onto the bag as well, shaking gently. Apparently the slow and controlled mixing was a little too boring and Ian needed more excitement, so he took matters into his own hands. I soon realized that Ian had that crazy "I'm two years old" look in his eye, and before I could subdue him he absolutely crushed the bag of dry ingredients in his remarkably strong little hands and sent a giant cloud of pulverized cake mix soaring through the kitchen. This was a complete riot in the eyes of Ian and Eli. While the two of them laughed like hyenas, I watched in horror as the cloud of cake mix dissipated and covered every surface of the kitchen with an even layer of brown dust. So much for carefully measured ingredients. For the next several minutes I scraped and pinched every speck of cake mix on the island and placed it into the bowl. With every new deposit into the mixing bowl, Ian would laugh and say, "What are you doing, mommy? You so silly!"
Cole is going to hate this, but I don't care. I have to brag about how he is truly the best dad in the world. Cole was SO jazzed from the very second I told him I was pregnant with Ian. He was absolutely ecstatic to become a dad, and as soon as Ian was born, he gave fatherhood his all. He has ALWAYS changed diapers without ever being asked, and he was always happy to feed the boys their bottles when they were babies. Before the boys slept through the night, I got up with them during the week since I could catch a nap during the day, but on the weekends Cole would get up in the middle of the night so I could have two nights of uninterrupted sleep each week. (Yes, he did this without a single sigh of exasperation.) Cole stayed home for one week after Eli was born, and he did EVERYTHING while I took care of Eli and rested as much as possible to get ready for wrangling two boys on my own. He gives the boys their baths every night because having my hands in water that frequently makes them so dry they crack open and bleed. Plus, Cole is more than willing to watch the boys in the evening and do the whole bath time/bedtime routine by himself while I go to night class. He will also take long lunch hours to watch the boys while I go to class during the day and then make up the lost time in the evening. Any time he has a job to do at home, he gets Ian and Eli in on it, and the three of them TCB. The boys adore Cole. He is SO involved in every single part of the boys' care and daily lives. Cole is just amazing. I don't know of any other wife/children who have such an incredible husband/father. Cole is the poster boy of "involved" fathers, and I'm so, so, so proud that he is such an amazing provider for our family that I have the incredible opportunity to stay at home and raise our children without babysitters or nannies. I am unbelievably thankful that we are a "traditional" family.
So for Father's Day I wanted to let Ian and Eli show their appreciation to their wonderful dad by choosing their own gift. While we were discussing the plan to buy Cole a fire pit I asked Ian what he would like to give his daddy for Father's Day. Ian said, "Let's make him a cake!" I thought that was a perfect idea. It was Ian's choice, and he would get to help do something nice for someone who lives to please him. When we went to the store Ian chose a chocolate cake mix, chocolate icing, and blue sprinkles. He looked so adorable in the baking aisle. He studied the shelves upon shelves of cake mixes so carefully. I'm sure he was just overwhelmed by all of the options, but it looked like he was getting ready to answer the million dollar question on a game show. My plan had been to bake the cake while Cole was out golfing with his step-dad on Saturday, but they got rained out and the boys and I didn't have any privacy to create our surprise. Unfortunately, the weekend slipped by and we never did get the cake baked. But Cole isn't big on sweets or junk food, so I don't think it was breaking his heart. However, today we spent Friday morning in the kitchen playing "Cake Boss", and we had a fantastic treat waiting for Cole when he got home from work.
The Little Chefs
The cake mix only required three additional ingredients: water, oil, and eggs. I chose the biggest mixing bowl we have knowing full well that anything smaller than a horse trough was going to be too small with Ian and Eli in control. But I wasn't about to go to Rural King, so I settled. I measured 1 1/3 cups of water first. I thought, we'll do water first so he can learn to pour things into the bowl slowly and if it spills, oh well. However, I had a bad case of white knuckles when it actually came time to hand Ian the measuring cup. I did not want to relinquish control because I was fairly certain there was going to be a sizable spill. I was picturing a mess similar to that caused by Prymatt Conehead's water breaking. How quickly my mood had changed. One second I was a carefree super-mom who was going with the flow, and the next, well, the next I was back to the neurotic woman who secretly refolds all of the bath towels after her husband folds them because the thought of terry cloth not folded to her exact specifications makes her panic. Ian was bouncing around in a state of jubilation while my heart raced. "It's only water. It's only water," I repeated to myself. Ian kept saying, "I want to do it!" Finally, I worked up the courage to let go of the measuring cup and place it in the hands of a very excited two-year-old. I coached from beside Ian's chair. "Slowly. Pour it slowly." The first 1/8 of a cup trickled into the bowl while I proudly watched Ian obeying my requests. As soon as I was ready to praise him for being a good listener, he decided to act like a lunatic and threw the rest of the water into the bowl. I watched in horror as the water rushed up the side of the bowl like a tidal wave. It crested just shy of three feet above the rim and was going to break right on top of Eli. I envisioned Eli being knocked backward off of his chair in slow motion: limbs flailing and screaming for help as he was carried down the hallway by the tsunami. Due to some inexplicable force of nature, the water changed directions in mid air and slowly lowered itself gently into the bowl without a single drop landing on the counter. I stood there in complete shock and awe. How in the world did Ian manage to do that? We all should have been drenched, and yet here we were looking at a mixing bowl with exactly 1 1/3 cups of water resting inside. Ian was beaming with pride. "More!" he called. Eli clapped enthusiastically in recognition of his brother's unbelievable pouring capabilities. What a pair.
I finally was able to snap out of my stupor and went back to measuring. 1/2 a cup of oil. Oil. I shuddered at the sight of the word. I really did not want to clean up oil. But, then again, Ian did manage to keep all of the water in the bowl (miraculously). I decided to just start coaching Ian earlier this time. As I was measuring the oil in the measuring cup I was already telling him, "You have to pour the oil sloooooooooowly. Very slowly." He didn't hear a single syllable of what I was saying because he and Eli were way too busy jumping up and down on their chairs while seeing who would be the first to shatter a glass with their shrill, unending screams of excitement. Sometimes I don't know why I bother speaking at all. I walked over to the island, and before I knew what was happening, Ian ripped the measuring cup out of my hands and once again threw the contents into the mixing bowl. "Aaaahhhh!!!!" I yelled while Eli laughed hysterically at his madcap brother. I felt like I was watching my towels being shoved into a linen closet without a single hem matching up and absolutely NO uniformity in folding technique. My heart was racing out of control, and my head was spinning. If this is what Ian and Eli consider civilized behavior we might as well get pet goats to live in their rooms. And while we're at it, we should just hang one of those disgusting sets of plastic testicles on the bumper of Cole's truck so the whole world knows just how "civilized" we are! "Calm down," I told myself. "We are not getting goats or plastic testicles. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are toddlers. They are doing really well, and you need to get back into super-mom mode and tell that neurotic woman (my true self) to get the heck out of here!"
Half of the ingredients were already in the bowl. All I had to make it through was one more addition: the cake mix. I cut the entire crimped seam off of the top of the plastic bag. My hope was that when pouring the mix into the bowl, the water would instantly be absorbed and a fabulously lumpy mound of brown batter would be created within the large mixing bowl. This time I would not let go of the bag. I would simply trick the boys into believing they were the ones in charge. I gently shook the dry mix into the mixing bowl 1/8 of a cup at a time. Ian was holding onto the bag as well, shaking gently. Apparently the slow and controlled mixing was a little too boring and Ian needed more excitement, so he took matters into his own hands. I soon realized that Ian had that crazy "I'm two years old" look in his eye, and before I could subdue him he absolutely crushed the bag of dry ingredients in his remarkably strong little hands and sent a giant cloud of pulverized cake mix soaring through the kitchen. This was a complete riot in the eyes of Ian and Eli. While the two of them laughed like hyenas, I watched in horror as the cloud of cake mix dissipated and covered every surface of the kitchen with an even layer of brown dust. So much for carefully measured ingredients. For the next several minutes I scraped and pinched every speck of cake mix on the island and placed it into the bowl. With every new deposit into the mixing bowl, Ian would laugh and say, "What are you doing, mommy? You so silly!"
Admiring their handiwork
"OH, MY GOSH! WE ARE GOING TO EAT CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!"
I cracked the eggs far away from the boys' reach. I couldn't stand the thought of them possibly contaminating themselves with raw eggs. I tried several times to convince Eli to wait in the other room while I used the hand mixer. Eli HATES the vacuum, and I knew the hand mixer would be no better. He refused to leave so I started the mixing anyway. As soon as I flipped the switch Eli became absolutely hysterical. He was wailing like a banshee, and from outside the kitchen window it must have sounded as though I was giving him a root canal with out any novocaine. The screaming did not stop until the cake was mixed and the hand mixer unplugged.
Cake batter can also be a wonderful countertop decoration
The next hour and a half were spent waiting for the cake to bake and cool. It also gave me a chance to calm down a bit. I never knew that baking with toddlers would be so stressful. Last summer I took the boys to my doctor's appointment, and it went so poorly my Rheumatologist had to hold Ian through the entire appointment and a resident had to be called into the room to hold Eli the entire time. THAT was less stressful than baking with the boys. I needed to just relax and follow the advice of my self-penned calming mantra, "Nobody is going to die. We are all going to be just fine when this is all over."
I gave each of the boys a large serving spoon to use to frost the cake. While I was peeling the protective foil cover off of the frosting can, I turned my back to the boys. Big mistake. When I turned back around Ian was licking the top of the cake while Eli was digging out bites with his spoon. I swear, they can't be trusted for one second! Thank goodness the only person being served this cake was Cole.
"Sampling" the baked goods
I got the frosting all stirred up and softened and dropped a large dollop right in the center of the cake. I began smoothing the frosting in all directions while instructing, "Just smoosh the frosting all around like this." I left out the fact that intense pressure need not be exerted on the cake in order to frost it successfully. Ian hit the cake with his spoon as though he was in a championship Whack-A-Mole tournament. In no time at all the top layer of the cake was pulled off and mixed into the chocolate frosting. "Oh, dear me. The stress. It's coming back quickly!" I thought. "We just started decorating and already the cake looks half digested!" I tried adding another gigantic dollop of frosting to hopefully cover the raw cake top thickly and prevent it from being mutilated even more. To Ian and Eli, this looked like an invitation to snack, and they quickly began devouring the "excess" frosting by any means necessary. Every two seconds I was pulling a hand out of the frosting or a spoon out of a mouth.
Eating frosting from a spoon
Eating frosting off of his finger
Eating frosting from a spoon
The chocolate is kicking in and holding still is no longer a possibility
The entire cake is frosted. The dark spots aren't placed we missed, it's cake mixed into the frosting.
Now it was time for sprinkles. Ian had chosen blue sprinkles at the store, but I had white sprinkles in the cabinet. I thought we could jazz the cake up a bit with TWO colors of sprinkles instead of just one. I took out two cupcake papers and put about a half a teaspoon of each color of sprinkles in each one. I showed the boys how to cover the cake with sprinkles. To my astonishment the boys watched carefully during my presentation. "Well, at least this part will go smoothly," I mistakenly thought. As soon as I smiled approvingly at them, they plunged their hands into the sprinkles and shoved the little sugar crystals into their mouths. "Boys!" I hollered. "Don't lick your hands. That's gross!" Of course, they didn't care a bit about what I had said and kept merrily consuming the sugary goodness. After several dips into the cupcake paper, Ian and Eli looked like the were the models for the cover art of "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. I finally said enough was enough. Not only was I grossed out by the copious amounts of sprinkles stuck to their hands by a never ending supply of saliva, they had spilled so many sprinkles on the floor that walking through the kitchen now felt like walking across Miami Beach. I got their hands cleaned up and we started sprinkling the cake with fresh sprinkles in fresh bowls.
The Final Product
When Cole got home Ian couldn't wait to tell him that he had baked him a cake. The boys led Cole into the kitchen to proudly present him with a true gift from the heart, and Cole was absolutely thrilled by the effort the boys had made to show their appreciation for their wonderful dad. I'm pretty sure that in Cole's eyes, it was the most delicious looking cake he had ever seen. And the boys' efforts were greatly appreciated by Cole.
I want to make sure that the boys know it is important to show people that they are important and they appreciate them. A well thought out gift purchased from a store is wonderful, but something that requires your time and effort is so much better. I also want them to know that it isn't enough to assume that people just automatically know how important they are, you need to show them and remind them. I think we are off to a good start. It was worth every sweep of the broom and scrub of the counter top, but it took quite a while to clean up the gigantic mess that accompanied their efforts. Maybe next year we'll make Cole a batch of dry trail mix.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Don't Mess with the Mama Lion's Cubs. You'll Be Sorry.
A couple of weeks ago, Cole's dad found a nice, used riding lawn mower for sale. He checked it out for us, thought it was a good deal, so we bought it. Of course the lawn mower was in Flora and not here, so I had to borrow my dad's trailer and suburban to get it back to our house. The boys and I left town Friday morning and had a play date with my friend Angela and her boys, Max and Will. I wish, wish, wish that they lived closer because Ian, Max, and Eli were absolutely the BEST of friends. Will is only three months old otherwise I know he would have been right there with the other three boys. After the four of them had sufficiently tired themselves out, we headed to Flora to spend the night at mom and dad's house.
The next day the boys played their hearts out until dad had the trailer and suburban all ready for me to go. We got the boys in their seats and were just about to leave when a nasty cicada found its way into the back. I HATE cicadas. I think they are the creepiest, most disgusting bugs in the world. The whole 13 year cycle is so freaky. I don't understand what they contribute to the ecosystem. Anyway, my dad realized it was in the car and very quickly removed it knowing that if it came anywhere close to Ian we would have to taser him to get him to calm down.
We headed out to my in-laws to pick up the mower. After a crash course in lawn mower operations, we were on our way home. Both of the boys fell asleep shortly after leaving the drive way which made me very happy. They were both overly tired and overly cranky. I was ready for a little peace and quiet. We cruised down the highway at a solid 55 mph; me listening to the radio and the boys sawing logs. This trip was going to be a breeze. I had just driven over the over pass in Effingham and was waiting at a stop light getting ready to wind through town to get the interstate when it happened.
I heard the click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. My heart started pounding. This could not actually be happening. I was horrified, disgusted, disturbed, frightened, grossed out, you name it. My skin was absolutely crawling. The light turned green, and I steered the car into the far lane as I made my wide right turn with the trailer. Even though the car was cold, I began sweating like a maniac. (For an explanation of my profuse sweating please reference entry Never Again) I was just slowing to a halt at the next light when I heard it again: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. I thought my heart was going to break through my rib cage. There was no denying it now. This nightmare was a reality, and as the mother, it was my job to take care of it. I had to face the facts........there was a cicada in the car.
It took one more red light and a four way stop to put together a plan that didn't involve getting my boys out of the car, abandoning the suburban, and just driving the lawn mower the remaining 70 miles back home. I finally pulled into the 5/3 Bank parking lot. As I was parking there was another: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. I knew it was somewhere in the front passenger floor board, but its exact whereabouts were a mystery. As long as it didn't crawl up my leg while I was stopping I would be alright.
I find it best to remain calm in times of crisis, so that's exactly what I did. I mentally constructed a logical plan that would get the cicada quickly and efficiently out of the car and back into nature. First things first, I needed gear. In order to rid ourselves of the cicada without endangering our own well-being, I would need three Hazmat suits, an extendable robotic arm, a large net, an industrial use vacuum, disinfecting wipes, 10 gallons of bug spray, and a portable tub and shower surround. While donning the Hazmat suits, the boys and I would position the robotic arm approximately 30 feet away from the car. I would extend the arm into the floor board and extract the cicada and drop it in into the large net. I would then vacuum up the next of eggs the stupid thing undoubtedly laid in the car, and immediately disinfect any surface it touched to insure there was no way a missing body part could spontaneously regenerate like a starfish. Next, I would lay the net containing the cicada on the ground and pour all ten gallons of bug spray directly on top of it to guarantee it will never terrorize another young family ever again. Then I would cleanse myself of the entire atrocity in the portable shower and tub surround. It was the perfect plan! How could it fail?
I began to search the suburban for the needed gear, and it became very apparent that my mother was grossly unprepared for any catastrophic event. I can understand the lack of portable shower and tub surround, but no Hazmat suits? No extendable robotic arm? Honestly, how did my sisters and I survive until adulthood? Sheer luck, I guess. Well, it was no time to panic, I would just have to formulate another plan, even though the next one would obviously be illogical and horribly inefficient. Since my mom did not consider being able to defend herself from a predatory attack to be a priority, what did she consider a priority? I started to take inventory.
-a grippy mat to keep your cell phone from sliding all over the car: worthless
-a metric ton of napkins: how could those possibly be of use?
-spare change: hmmm.............nah, well........................no.
-a golf umbrella: JACKPOT!
Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you: Exhibit A.
I searched the console for some camo face paint, but mom didn't even have that. Seriously, how did we all survive our childhoods? I opened my door and slid down from my sweaty leather seat and into the parking lot of the bank. I was armed, dangerous, and really wishing I had something to tie around my head so I could look just like Rambo. Luckily the boys were still sleeping peacefully in the back. I didn't want them to witness the gruesome events that were about to transpire. I opened the passenger door like I owned it. I wanted that cicada to know he had crossed the wrong mom. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, messes with my babies.
As soon as the door was open, I began to panic a little. I mean, cicadas are REALLY disgusting. What if it looked at me menacingly? Or what if it touched me? The situation suddenly became very real, but it was no time to be a chicken. I had two beautiful boys to defend. I searched the floor board carefully. Well, as carefully as one can from a distance of roughly four feet. Where could it be? I couldn't see it anywhere. All of the sudden it started issuing its threats again: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. Immediately, my heart was breaking. It had climbed into the plastic bag with my brand new super adorable beaded sandals that I had only worn one time. How could this have happened? It must be terrifying in that bag. You can't escape even though you desperately want out because there is no air circulation, but there is just no way to get yourself out. Plus, there is a revolting cicada in there with you. My poor sandals! They are extremely narrow and fit my feet so well, and this is how I repay them? I don't even deserve to own such a fabulous pair of sandals. If I could only go back in time and....
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There it is!!!!!!!! The cicada isn't in the bag, it's up under the dash!!!!!! OH. MY. GOSH. How dare that cicada trick me into thinking it was touching my defenseless sandals? Well, guess what cicada. IT'S GO TIME!!!!
I turned the golf umbrella into a bayonet, minus the rifle. I was going to stab the cicada with the tip of the umbrella, fling it into the parking lot, and never look back. If that cicada could send me into a downward spiral by almost terrorizing my sandals, what would I become if it went after Ian and Eli? I couldn't imagine how I could possibly handle the stress of that, so I rushed the enemy with all my might. I thrust the umbrella up under the dash with such force that I was instantly regretting the mess it was going to leave behind. I could hardly bring myself to look at the bloody remains on the end of the umbrella, but eventually I did. What the heck? Where is it? I looked back up under the dash. There was the cicada. He didn't even look scared. Well, I'll show him. For what felt like an eternity I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed at the cicada, missing every time. I finally decided that it must emit some type of magnetic field that repels umbrella tips. A primitive, yet effective defense mechanism. Clever.
By this time I was insanely sweaty and needed a break to cool off and regroup. I did NOT expect cicadas to have their own magnetic fields. This definitely threw me for a loop. How was I going to get rid of this thing now? I checked on the boys who were both still sleeping serenely. I had to hurry up and kill this thing before they realized their mother was crazy and extremely on edge. Even though the umbrella had failed me up until this point, I had no other form of defense. How does my mother feel safe in this car? If this is how she traveled with us as kids, how did we ever live to become adults? Well, the best ideas are born out of desperation, so I brainstormed like there was no tomorrow and then I was back in the fight.
I decided I would just knock the cicada off of the underside of the dash, fling it into the parking lot, and leave it for dead. Easy enough. It only took a couple of swipes with the tip of the umbrella (I must have demagnetized it somehow) to knock it into the floor board, but I wasn't exactly prepared for the cicada falling into the floor board and ran screaming through the parking lot. This unfortunately woke up Eli. He didn't seem too bothered, however. He just looked out the window like, "Oh, it's just mom." which really made me wonder why he didn't react more. I always "remain calm in times of crisis", and he was acting like this was totally normal. But, I needed to focus on the task at hand, so I ran back to the suburban hoping the cicada had left on his own. He had not. Well, if he didn't want to do it the easy way, I guess we were going to have to do it the hard way. I was prepared for the hard way.
I flipped the umbrella around and was gripping the slender end with all my might while using the wooden handle as a club. I whacked and whacked the floor board of the suburban in self defense for an eternity, but never once did I come close to hitting the cicada. Every time the wooden handle of umbrella struck the floor board, the cicada would bounce around from the force, and my anxiety about the thing flying out and getting stuck in my hair grew. I was reaching a point that was positively unhealthy when I finally managed to hook the thing in the wooden handle of the umbrella and launch it into the parking lot. I immediately slammed the door to prevent its reentry. It had been a battle of epic proportions, and I had prevailed. I felt like climbing a tower and declaring my victory. I collected myself, examined my weapon for gut smears, caught my breath, and started to walk around the car to get back in the driver's seat. That is when I saw the cop parked on the side of the road STARING at me. In all fairness, I was only a half a block away from the police department, and the battle did last several minutes and included some screaming. I don't know what the cop thought was going on, but I just acted as though I didn't see him and got right back into the car, glowing from my victory.
There are many things to take away from this story. The most important is, don't mess with my kids or I will tear you up. I might be mild and docile 99.999999999999999999% of the time, but I know how to take control when I need to. And I will. The second thing to take away is to always "remain calm in times of crisis". I can not stress this enough. Can you imagine what a fiasco this would have been if I had over reacted? Yikes! And finally, a lot has changed since people my age were small children and our parents were in charge. Back then people didn't wear seat belts, they smoked in restaurants, they didn't have computers, and babies slept on their tummies. A lot of parents get stuck in the "we didn't do/have that when you were young and you turned out just fine" frame of mind. So, before you let your kids leave with grandma and grandpa, check the car to make sure they aren't as ill prepared for disaster as my mom was. I mean, honestly, how did we make it to adulthood?
The next day the boys played their hearts out until dad had the trailer and suburban all ready for me to go. We got the boys in their seats and were just about to leave when a nasty cicada found its way into the back. I HATE cicadas. I think they are the creepiest, most disgusting bugs in the world. The whole 13 year cycle is so freaky. I don't understand what they contribute to the ecosystem. Anyway, my dad realized it was in the car and very quickly removed it knowing that if it came anywhere close to Ian we would have to taser him to get him to calm down.
We headed out to my in-laws to pick up the mower. After a crash course in lawn mower operations, we were on our way home. Both of the boys fell asleep shortly after leaving the drive way which made me very happy. They were both overly tired and overly cranky. I was ready for a little peace and quiet. We cruised down the highway at a solid 55 mph; me listening to the radio and the boys sawing logs. This trip was going to be a breeze. I had just driven over the over pass in Effingham and was waiting at a stop light getting ready to wind through town to get the interstate when it happened.
I heard the click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. My heart started pounding. This could not actually be happening. I was horrified, disgusted, disturbed, frightened, grossed out, you name it. My skin was absolutely crawling. The light turned green, and I steered the car into the far lane as I made my wide right turn with the trailer. Even though the car was cold, I began sweating like a maniac. (For an explanation of my profuse sweating please reference entry Never Again) I was just slowing to a halt at the next light when I heard it again: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. I thought my heart was going to break through my rib cage. There was no denying it now. This nightmare was a reality, and as the mother, it was my job to take care of it. I had to face the facts........there was a cicada in the car.
It took one more red light and a four way stop to put together a plan that didn't involve getting my boys out of the car, abandoning the suburban, and just driving the lawn mower the remaining 70 miles back home. I finally pulled into the 5/3 Bank parking lot. As I was parking there was another: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. I knew it was somewhere in the front passenger floor board, but its exact whereabouts were a mystery. As long as it didn't crawl up my leg while I was stopping I would be alright.
I find it best to remain calm in times of crisis, so that's exactly what I did. I mentally constructed a logical plan that would get the cicada quickly and efficiently out of the car and back into nature. First things first, I needed gear. In order to rid ourselves of the cicada without endangering our own well-being, I would need three Hazmat suits, an extendable robotic arm, a large net, an industrial use vacuum, disinfecting wipes, 10 gallons of bug spray, and a portable tub and shower surround. While donning the Hazmat suits, the boys and I would position the robotic arm approximately 30 feet away from the car. I would extend the arm into the floor board and extract the cicada and drop it in into the large net. I would then vacuum up the next of eggs the stupid thing undoubtedly laid in the car, and immediately disinfect any surface it touched to insure there was no way a missing body part could spontaneously regenerate like a starfish. Next, I would lay the net containing the cicada on the ground and pour all ten gallons of bug spray directly on top of it to guarantee it will never terrorize another young family ever again. Then I would cleanse myself of the entire atrocity in the portable shower and tub surround. It was the perfect plan! How could it fail?
I began to search the suburban for the needed gear, and it became very apparent that my mother was grossly unprepared for any catastrophic event. I can understand the lack of portable shower and tub surround, but no Hazmat suits? No extendable robotic arm? Honestly, how did my sisters and I survive until adulthood? Sheer luck, I guess. Well, it was no time to panic, I would just have to formulate another plan, even though the next one would obviously be illogical and horribly inefficient. Since my mom did not consider being able to defend herself from a predatory attack to be a priority, what did she consider a priority? I started to take inventory.
-a grippy mat to keep your cell phone from sliding all over the car: worthless
-a metric ton of napkins: how could those possibly be of use?
-spare change: hmmm.............nah, well........................no.
-a golf umbrella: JACKPOT!
Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you: Exhibit A.
My weapon of choice. My mom's was actually a super cute black and white houndstooth with a chrome tip instead of natural wood.
I searched the console for some camo face paint, but mom didn't even have that. Seriously, how did we all survive our childhoods? I opened my door and slid down from my sweaty leather seat and into the parking lot of the bank. I was armed, dangerous, and really wishing I had something to tie around my head so I could look just like Rambo. Luckily the boys were still sleeping peacefully in the back. I didn't want them to witness the gruesome events that were about to transpire. I opened the passenger door like I owned it. I wanted that cicada to know he had crossed the wrong mom. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, messes with my babies.
As soon as the door was open, I began to panic a little. I mean, cicadas are REALLY disgusting. What if it looked at me menacingly? Or what if it touched me? The situation suddenly became very real, but it was no time to be a chicken. I had two beautiful boys to defend. I searched the floor board carefully. Well, as carefully as one can from a distance of roughly four feet. Where could it be? I couldn't see it anywhere. All of the sudden it started issuing its threats again: click...click.......cliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. Immediately, my heart was breaking. It had climbed into the plastic bag with my brand new super adorable beaded sandals that I had only worn one time. How could this have happened? It must be terrifying in that bag. You can't escape even though you desperately want out because there is no air circulation, but there is just no way to get yourself out. Plus, there is a revolting cicada in there with you. My poor sandals! They are extremely narrow and fit my feet so well, and this is how I repay them? I don't even deserve to own such a fabulous pair of sandals. If I could only go back in time and....
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There it is!!!!!!!! The cicada isn't in the bag, it's up under the dash!!!!!! OH. MY. GOSH. How dare that cicada trick me into thinking it was touching my defenseless sandals? Well, guess what cicada. IT'S GO TIME!!!!
I turned the golf umbrella into a bayonet, minus the rifle. I was going to stab the cicada with the tip of the umbrella, fling it into the parking lot, and never look back. If that cicada could send me into a downward spiral by almost terrorizing my sandals, what would I become if it went after Ian and Eli? I couldn't imagine how I could possibly handle the stress of that, so I rushed the enemy with all my might. I thrust the umbrella up under the dash with such force that I was instantly regretting the mess it was going to leave behind. I could hardly bring myself to look at the bloody remains on the end of the umbrella, but eventually I did. What the heck? Where is it? I looked back up under the dash. There was the cicada. He didn't even look scared. Well, I'll show him. For what felt like an eternity I stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed at the cicada, missing every time. I finally decided that it must emit some type of magnetic field that repels umbrella tips. A primitive, yet effective defense mechanism. Clever.
By this time I was insanely sweaty and needed a break to cool off and regroup. I did NOT expect cicadas to have their own magnetic fields. This definitely threw me for a loop. How was I going to get rid of this thing now? I checked on the boys who were both still sleeping serenely. I had to hurry up and kill this thing before they realized their mother was crazy and extremely on edge. Even though the umbrella had failed me up until this point, I had no other form of defense. How does my mother feel safe in this car? If this is how she traveled with us as kids, how did we ever live to become adults? Well, the best ideas are born out of desperation, so I brainstormed like there was no tomorrow and then I was back in the fight.
I decided I would just knock the cicada off of the underside of the dash, fling it into the parking lot, and leave it for dead. Easy enough. It only took a couple of swipes with the tip of the umbrella (I must have demagnetized it somehow) to knock it into the floor board, but I wasn't exactly prepared for the cicada falling into the floor board and ran screaming through the parking lot. This unfortunately woke up Eli. He didn't seem too bothered, however. He just looked out the window like, "Oh, it's just mom." which really made me wonder why he didn't react more. I always "remain calm in times of crisis", and he was acting like this was totally normal. But, I needed to focus on the task at hand, so I ran back to the suburban hoping the cicada had left on his own. He had not. Well, if he didn't want to do it the easy way, I guess we were going to have to do it the hard way. I was prepared for the hard way.
There are many things to take away from this story. The most important is, don't mess with my kids or I will tear you up. I might be mild and docile 99.999999999999999999% of the time, but I know how to take control when I need to. And I will. The second thing to take away is to always "remain calm in times of crisis". I can not stress this enough. Can you imagine what a fiasco this would have been if I had over reacted? Yikes! And finally, a lot has changed since people my age were small children and our parents were in charge. Back then people didn't wear seat belts, they smoked in restaurants, they didn't have computers, and babies slept on their tummies. A lot of parents get stuck in the "we didn't do/have that when you were young and you turned out just fine" frame of mind. So, before you let your kids leave with grandma and grandpa, check the car to make sure they aren't as ill prepared for disaster as my mom was. I mean, honestly, how did we make it to adulthood?
Saturday, June 18, 2011
And......Scene
Cole and I are more or less a match made in parenting heaven. We agree on almost everything when it comes to raising the boys. Our main goal is obvious: To raise loving, respectful, generous, kind, well-rounded boys who will grow up to be loving, respectful, generous, kind, well-rounded men. In our quest to guide our boys down that path, one of our most important parenting philosophies is,
"We want our boys to have life experiences, not stuff."
In order to accomplish this, we plan outings for the boys ALL the time. Sometimes everything falls into place and the day is a bigger success than either of us could have ever hoped for. Other times the day goes so poorly the only way it could be worse is if we burned the place down. But, hey, at least we tried. When the boys grow up I want them to have a heads full of wonderful memories and not storage units full of stuff. Don't feel sorry for my kids, they have PLENTY of toys, as you can see.
The toys only look like this between the hours of 8:00 pm and 6:30 am Sunday-Saturday.
Most of our activities are typical "boy" outings. I'm fine with this because I think that boys should be raised to be boys, but there are times that I just can't control myself and plan an activity that I know I will love and that I hope the boys will like too. Recently, we had one of these activities.
June 4th we took the boys to see their first musical. It was called U:Bug:Me, and was described as "a rock and roll musical for kids." I thought the boys would love it because they both adore music and love to dance. When I bought the tickets, I couldn't wait for the show!!! It was in Sullivan at The Little Theatre On The Square. My Grandma Stanford has taken all of the grandkids to performances in Sullivan, and every time it was my turn I was in heaven. I LOVE live performances, the theater is so small that there isn't a bad seat in the house, and the cast is always fantastic! I highly recommend The Little Theatre to anyone who loves musical theater.
The morning of the show I woke up and hopped right into the shower. I could not wait for the show to start. While I was showering Cole got Ian ready for the trip. When I got out of the shower,I couldn't believe how dashing Ian looked in his tuxedo. Okay, it was actually a tuxedo t-shirt Aunt Jess and Uncle Brad brought back from Vegas, but he looked awesome! Cole thought that the boys' first experience going to The Theatre should be black tie. I laughed and laughed and laughed at his cleverness.
I was positively giddy all morning. I was squealing, yes squealing, with delight and high stepping all over the house in an attempt to channel my excitement into something constructive instead of letting my head explode. I didn't want to get brains on Ian's and Eli's tuxes. Even in the car I was having trouble containing myself. I really put my seat belt to the test. By the time we got to Sullivan, I was so wound up I could have pulled the car the rest of the way to the performance and still had energy to spare. I totally would have been going with the flow of traffic, too. I'm talking 35 mph. When Cole pulled into the parking spot I was flinging the door open before the car was in park. I felt like a hyperactive kid after drinking a pallet of Red Bull. I had so much adrenaline coursing through my body that I couldn't even blink, and my smile was so wide that you could see the scars from my wisdom teeth removal. In NO way did I look like someone who could be trusted around small children, but I honestly could not help myself. I was that excited!
I grabbed Ian, the diaper bag, and Eli's booster seat and headed across the street to join the line of fellow patrons. The lobby is of course designed in such a way that all of the show attendees MUST walk past the concession and souvenir stand. Though I had NO intention of buying anything because impulse purchases like these are for suckers, I scoped out the merch. They had sugar cookies and punch. "Ehh. That's been done before." Ink pens with glow sticks in the handles. "Hmm. I wonder how long the glow stick would actually last?" Headbands with light up antennae. "Oh, my gosh! How adorable! I wish I had a daughter!!!! I guess I could buy them for Cambell and Sidney. How cute would they be with their little headbands? What colors do they have? Blue, red, green. Why don't they have any girly colors? I guess the red is kind of like a lady bug, but pink or purple would look so much cuter. Maybe the blue......" Oh! It's time to go inside. I can't believe people get sucked into buying this stuff. Some people are so weak.
When I bought the tickets I had purchased two seats directly behind two seats instead of a row of four seats. I wanted to make sure the boys could both sit on the aisle and get up and dance when the rhythm finally did get them. I also thought they would be able to see the stage better if they were both on the aisle. I had brought Eli's booster seat from the kitchen table because I knew he wouldn't be heavy enough to hold the seat down, plus, he's still REALLY short.
We were only in our seats for a couple of minutes before the show began. As soon as the house lights were down and the music began, Eli morphed into Kevin Bacon's character, Ren McCormick, and just HAD to dance. Eli's dancing is not calm and controlled; quite the opposite. He is everywhere. He wiggled, shimmied, and flailed in every direction. He shook his head and clapped his hands with the most gigantic smile he has ever donned. Eli was absolutely having a ball. Ian, on the other hand, didn't know what to think. He was completely stoic. I had no idea what was going through his head. I kept asking him if he wanted to get up and dance, but he didn't. Eventually, he slid down out of his chair and stood in the aisle. He didn't move a muscle; he just stood there. He looked at the stage, and his expression never changed. All the while, Eli was still bustin' a move in the seat right in front of us. The song ended, and Eli started yelling, "More! MORE!" As far as I could tell, Ian really didn't care.
The actors started "acting", and Eli watched intently. Ian had realized that nobody was sitting around us and decided to walk through the rows of empty seats. I decided it was alright if he wanted to sit in the row behind me if that would help him warm up to the idea of watching the performance. Of course, he didn't want to sit in the row behind me; he wanted to run in the row behind me. For the next three songs and acting interludes I wrestled and wrangled Ian as he attempted to terrorize The Little Theatre like the Phantom of the Opera. I finally got him to sit during the fourth song and watch the dancers. I kept whispering in his ear that he could get up and dance if he wanted to, but all he wanted to do was run the aisle so I had to keep pulling him back into row 11. Finally, the stress got to be too much for him and he yelled at the top of his lungs,
"I want to dance on that stage right now!!!!!"
He could be heard clear as a bell over all of the actors, and oh yes, heads they were a turnin'. My heart ached for him. I wanted to yell, "Me too!", grab his little hand, and rush the stage. I mean, we would have stood in the back. It's not like I would have blocked the actual cast. I'm not crazed. But instead Cole turned around and suggested that we trade kids since Eli was absolutely LOVING the entire production and it was quite obvious that I was not able to enjoy a second of it while enveloped in Ian's bad attitude which was taking up rows 11-15, seats 1-8.
I happily moved up to row 10 while Cole took over in row 11. Eli and I were clapping and swaying to the music and following the storyline as if we had written the musical ourselves. Behind us Cole was trying to hold Ian's attention by pointing out every possible prop, light change, and costume accessory. Ian still did not care one bit about what was going on. I was so immersed in the show I had completely forgotten that I was a human, and not in fact a bug, until I heard Cole laughing behind me. I turned around so he could let me in on the joke, and the conversation went like this....
Cole: "Did you see that kid?"
Me: "What kid?"
Cole: "That kid the dad just carried by?"
Me: "No. Was he sick?"
Cole: "No. Not at all. Wait until he comes back"
At this point we were about half way through the one hour show, and Eli was sick and tired of being restrained in the booster seat. He needed to get out so he could stand in his chair and swivel his hips and do a few deep knee bends. Now he was really in his element. He was able to dance his little heart out and watching him was absolutely hilarious. The only problem was the seat kept folding up, and he would lose his balance and drop down on his bottom. Of course, folding himself up in the chair was almost as fun as dancing and the next couple of songs were spent folding and unfolding the chair to the beat of the music. I fully expected to lift Eli's shirt and see a six pack that would make Mr. Universe jealous.
Shortly after Eli concluded his ab work out, I dissolved into hysterics. A little boy, mostly likely 4-ish, came walking up the aisle COVERED in the contents of a glow stick ink pen sold at the concession stand. His shirt, pants, and sandals were completely glowing florescent green in the darkened theater. His little body could have been used to land planes in the dark. I felt bad laughing at the kid, but he was COVERED with the contents of the broken pen. It made me wonder how much stuff is actually in those things, and if they kept him in the freezer, would he continue to glow for weeks the way the glow stick companies claim? I turned around to tell Cole about it. This kid was the reason Cole started laughing earlier in the show. Cole had seen him being carried out by his father, in search of a bathroom, I'm sure. When he had seen him, the kid had it all over his face and hands, too. I probably would have wet my pants if I had seen him pre clean-up. I just kept thinking, "Thank goodness it wasn't one of mine."
Eli had decided that the last few songs needed to be danced like a true wildman, and was back on his feet in the chair. He was shakin' it, and decided to turn around to make sure that Ian was shakin' it too. When he did he shifted his weight to the very back of the seat which instantly folded up and sent him rocketing out the bottom. He was stuck between the back of the chair and the seat of the chair with his faced pressed into the back. I tried to extract him from the chair, but his sandals were big and clunky, and I couldn't stop laughing. Eli kept grunting in frustration, and I kept lifting and shifting fruitlessly. Finally, Cole deemed Ian trustworthy enough to relinquish his death grip temporarily to guide Eli's shoes out of the grips of the theater seat. Once he was free, Eli jumped right back up and started to boogie down like nothing had happened.
Right at the one hour mark, the show drew to a close. Eli had had the most fun, but was definitely ready to go. As soon as the house lights were up, Ian decided that he LOVED the performance, too, and didn't want to leave. As much as his bad attitude had interfered with his enjoyment of the show, it didn't compare to how much it was interfering with our ability to leave peacefully. We explained that the show was over and there was nothing we could do about it. As you can imagine, this did nothing to ease his mind. We thought we would go outside and let Ian meet the cast, but we quickly realized that he was in no state to be among the general population, so we opted for lunch instead.
This was such a fantastic day for us! Eli was absolutely in his element, and if Ian had just been willing to get out of his funk about 59 minutes earlier, he would have had a great time, too. Cole and I both had a great time experiencing another "first" with the boys. I love adding variety to our experiences so that things stay fresh and exciting for the boys. I also want to expose them to everything I possibly can so they can figure out what they have a passion for. And, if their passions just so happen to mesh with some of ours.......well, I guess that will be alright. :)
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