Just One More Excellent Idea

As the mother of a twelve year old and a six year old you might be tempted to think I've got the whole HOSTING A KID’S BIRTHDAY PARTY thing figured out.

Let me assure you, you'd be thinkin' wrong.

After all, I am the one who invited 25 three year old girls over for a BARBIE BEACH BIRTHDAY PARTY in Colorado in June, where the general idea was to spend HOURS and HOURS slip-n-sliding, splashing around in a wading pool and running through the sprinklers.

Except here’s the problem: Colorado in June can still be quite cold. Especially when you’re wet. Which is generally the goal when one is slip-n-sliding, splashing around in wading pools and running through sprinklers.

So here's what happens when you stick 25 shivering three year olds in to a hot tub full of 102 degree water because if you don’t they will all die of hypothermia right there on your deck and you’re really thinking inside IF I "ACCIDENTALLY" KILL ALL THE KIDS, THAT WILL TEACH THOSE PARENTS TO DROP AND RUN AT MY RILEY’S BARBIE BEACH BIRTHDAY PARTY.

Anyway ...

As soon as their little feet hit the 102 degree water about half of them immediately scream I HAVE TO GO POTTY.

And the other half?

Well, as soon as THEIR feet hit the 102 degree water they would have screamed I HAVE TO GO POTTY except their eyes are all rolled back in to their heads because all of a sudden they are VERY RELAXED.

And don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.

Well, we wrestled a sum total of two toddlers out of their wet swimsuits before just sending them all back out to the backyard to RELAX IN THE HOT TUB, IN THE YARD, WE DON’T CARE ANYMORE.

And then there was the time when Riley turned ONE and I invited about 100 people over to celebrate and spent days and days boiling and peeling enough eggs so that every guest could eat their weight in deviled eggs. BECAUSE WHAT ONE YEAR OLD DOESN’T LOVE DEVILED EGGS?

And then I forgot to get them out of the garage refrigerator until after the party was over.

I was so distraught that night I actually let my neighbors talk me in to watching THE WIZARD OF OZ with the sound turned off and Pink Floyd’s THE WALL playing as the soundtrack instead. In exchange, my neighbors agreed to eat a lot of eggs.

Which really has nothing to do with anything except the synchronization of the "Wizard of Oz" and that album was kinda creepy and all those parents who DROPPED AND RAN at my Riley’s BARBIE BEACH BIRTHDAY PARTY should have been thankful I let their kids RELAX in my hot tub instead of turning THAT on and sending their kids home to have nightmares and wet their beds.

So when Wyatt told me he wanted to go bowling for his birthday party I, naturally, said SURE. A bunch of five and six year olds PLUS 10 pound bowling balls PLUS slick bowling lanes oiled up to a glassy sheen? SURE let's go for it.

EXCELLENT idea. BEST ONE I’ve heard today.




And then THIS. THIS here is what you get.



Good thing we're so important we travel with our own doctor at all times ... or maybe he was just one of our guest’s dad who also happens to be a pediatrician. Regardless, Wyatt was triaged right there on Lane 3 after 10 pounds of bowling ball slipped through his hands like a greased pig and fell on his foot and pinky toe.

And he wasn’t the only one either. In roughly two hours time over 50% of our party guests sustained either a crushing or pinching bowling ball injury and/or a blow to the back of the head courtesy of the copious amounts of oil applied to the bowling lanes extra special for our party.

Just so you know, for his birthday party next year we're planning on throwing a bunch of kids in to the back of a pickup truck and speeding across the Mexican border for an afternoon of lawn darts, trampolining, and homemade puffer fish sandwiches. And we probably won’t let them wear sunscreen either.

The September 10th Manifesto

so, this is a "re-blog" ... something i wrote last year around my birthday ...

it was a good blog and i'll tell you how i know. most days i can't remember if i've showered or not. but i remember this blog because it made a difference for me when i had the "a ha" moment that precipitated it.

obviously some of the details have changed ... but here it is ... my "September 10th" manifesto ...

enjoy.

***

Sunday was my birthday. September 10. I don’t say that in order to solicit a bunch of belated birthday greetings. Although expensive gifts are always welcomed. Ha! No, I bring it up because I used to love my birthday. Growing up it usually meant I had the first birthday of the school year so my parties were bashes, with my entire class invited and I, of course, was the Queen in a paper hat – the center of attention - for those couple of hours.

During our annual “back to school clothes” shopping trips my mom would inevitably not purchase some of my favorite selections, to my disappointment, only to have them appear weeks later in birthday gifts. Sweet. I didn’t even mind that milestone 30th birthday, a “couple” of years past.

But they stopped being fun in 2001. The eve of 9/11.

We were in Texas, visiting my family, when the planes hit and we knew our life here in the U.S. would not feel “normal” again for a long, long time. For some reason we didn’t have my official birthday celebration on the 10th that year. We were waiting for some more family to fly in and join us. Of course all air travel was suspended for days that morning so they didn’t get there but we did manage to tear ourselves away from FOX and CNN later that evening to go eat some Mexican food. But it was a melancholy celebration, with our conversations entirely focused on the differences between my grandmother’s childhood and the world my daughter had been born in to. That day I could not see the possibility of optimism anywhere.

And ever since I’ve gotten into a little non-age-related funk around my birthday.

Until Sunday. We celebrated with grown-up friends on Saturday night so my entire birthday actually revolved around our family - me, my husband, and our children. And we did exactly as we pleased on Sunday. We got up early and hit the Castle Rock Arts Festival. Because we got there early, we were able to strike up a conversation with an amazing oil painter, Katherine McNeill http://www.katherinemcneill.com/ . John (an extremely talented artist for those of you who haven’t seen his work) engaged Ms. McNeill in a conversation about technique and before we knew it she’d pulled out a painting-in-progress and we all enjoyed a significant chunk of her time, with the kids actually getting to work on the painting with her. It was fun and creative and inspiring and priceless. Then on Sunday night we gathered around the island in our kitchen with boiled shrimp, fresh French bread, brie, grapes and chocolate cake ... my requested birthday dinner menu. We cranked up the iPod sound system and let the kids take turns spinning the tunes (everything from “Hillary Duff” to “Queen” to “Monty Python’s ‘The Galaxy Song’”) and we danced.

Sunday was a perfect day.

I didn’t get caught up in anything but hanging out with the people I love most in the world, celebrating and doing things that make my heart sing.

September 10, 2001. The last full day over 3,000 people spent with their friends, family and loved ones before their lives were suddenly and unexpectedly extinguished.

There were a lot of sweet, precious memories created that day. A lot of last photographs. A lot of last laughs. “Live every day as if it’s your last.” I’ve heard that phrase a thousand times, but remembering September 10, 2001 reminds me, again, how “serious” we should be taking that advice. Because for those people who boarded planes the next morning and went to work in tall buildings and reported for duty in secure buildings, September 10, 2001 was their last day on this earth. And the best way I can honor them, any and all politics and memorials and 21 gun salutes aside, is to live my life to the fullest every day without squandering one precious minute – it’s called living a life of intention. And I believe in my heart, if those 3,000 were to speak to those of us who remain, that would be their message.

So the birthday funk is over. I now choose to see September 10 as a day of celebration and life. It’s a reminder to me that tomorrow is NEVER guaranteed ... that all I have is right now ... and right now ... and right now ... It’s a day to celebrate the lives of those who didn’t live to see September 12, 2001 and to honor them by playing full out while living my one fabulous, extraordinary, precious life here on this earth!

Happy September 10th Everybody!"

Happy September 10th!

Sunday was my birthday. September 10. I don’t say that in order to solicit a bunch of belated birthday greetings. Although expensive gifts are always welcomed.

I bring it up because I used to love my birthday. Growing up it usually meant I had the first birthday of the school year so my parties were bashes, with my entire class invited and I, of course, was the Queen in a paper hat – the center of attention - for those couple of hours. During our annual “back to school clothes” shopping trips my mom would inevitably not purchase some of my favorite selections, to my disappointment, only to have them appear weeks later in birthday gifts. Sweet.

I didn’t even mind that milestone 30th birthday, a “couple” of years past.

But they stopped being fun in 2001.

The eve of 9/11.

We were in Texas, visiting my family, when the planes hit and we knew our life here in the U.S. would not feel “normal” again for a long, long time.

For some reason we didn’t have my official birthday celebration on the 10th that year. We were waiting for some more family to fly in and join us. Of course all air travel was suspended for days that morning so they didn’t get there but we did manage to tear ourselves away from FOX and CNN later that evening to go eat some Mexican food.

But it was a melancholy celebration, with our conversations entirely focused on the differences between my grandmother’s childhood and the world my daughter had been born in to. That day I could not see the possibility of optimism anywhere. And ever since I’ve gotten into a little non-age-related funk around my birthday.

Until Sunday.

We celebrated with grown-up friends on Saturday night so my entire birthday actually revolved around our family - me, my husband, and our children. And we did exactly as we pleased on Sunday. We got up early and hit the Castle Rock Arts Festival. Because we got there early, we were able to strike up a conversation with an amazing oil painter, Katherine McNeill http://www.katherinemcneill.com/ . John (an extremely talented artist for those of you who haven’t seen his work) engaged Ms. McNeill in a conversation about technique and before we knew it she’d pulled out a painting-in-progress and we all enjoyed a significant chunk of her time, with the kids actually getting to work on the painting with her. It was fun and creative and inspiring and priceless.

Then on Sunday night we gathered around the island in our kitchen with boiled shrimp, fresh French bread, brie, grapes and chocolate cake ... my requested birthday dinner menu. We cranked up the iPod sound system and let the kids take turns spinning the tunes (everything from “Hillary Duff” to “Queen” to “Monty Python’s ‘The Galaxy Song’”) and we danced.

Sunday was a perfect day. I didn’t get caught up in anything but hanging out with the people I love most in the world, celebrating and doing things that make my heart sing.

September 10, 2001. The last full day over 3,000 people spent with their friends, family and loved ones before their lives were suddenly and unexpectedly extinguished. There were a lot of sweet, precious memories created that day. A lot of last photographs. A lot of last laughs.

“Live every day as if it’s your last.”

I’ve heard that phrase a thousand times, but remembering September 10, 2001 reminds me, again, how “serious” we should be taking that advice. Because for those people who boarded planes the next morning and went to work in tall buildings and reported for duty in secure buildings, September 10, 2001 was their last day on this earth.

And the best way I can honor them, any and all politics and memorials and 21 gun salutes aside, is to live my life to the fullest every day without squandering one precious minute – it’s called living a life of intention. And I believe in my heart, if those 3,000 were to speak to those of us who remain, that would be their message.

So the birthday funk is over. I now choose to see September 10 as a day of celebration and life. It’s a reminder to me that tomorrow is NEVER guaranteed ... that all I have is right now ... and right now ... and right now ... It’s a day to celebrate the lives of those who didn’t live to see September 12, 2001 and to honor them by playing full out while living my one fabulous, extraordinary, precious life here on this earth!

Happy September 10th Everybody!