Busy day. Am exhausted. That doesn’t happen often. So, instead of writing a whole lot, I’ll just post a lot of pictures and half-heartedly explain what they were about.
Normal morning. Nothing to say about it. No picture.
1:00: taught an art class at the homeschool co-op I belong to. The kids seem to have a good time in the class. Since I act like a kid most of the time, they see me as a kindred spirit. It helps that I’m pretty knowledgeable about Star Wars.
3:45: Back from co-op. Boy7’s Birthday Extravaganza was scheduled to start at 4:30. Good! This means there’s plenty of time to sneak down to Janet and Gerhard’s house and steal some of their daffodils.
4:05: When I was walking back from stealing their daffodils, I could see people standing waaaaaaay at my end of the street. They looked familiar. Guests?! Guests a half hour early?! The cake wasn’t frosted! The dishes weren’t washed! That’s what happens when you have a drop-off birthday party. Parents are never late to a drop off birthday party. They’re early and then pretend that they misread the invitation. “Oh, you meant 5:00! I thought it read 3:00! My bad! Well, since we’re already here, can little Preston just stay?…”
4:05-4:30: The Chaos and Confusion began. I was going to have Boy7 take a picture of me walking up the street with the stolen flowers, but then Darling Husband arrived home. Good! He can take the picture. But before Darling Husband could be wrangled into taking the picture, Kevin showed up with his sons. Kevin! He’s in Photo Club! (And he takes beautiful pictures! And his 4th son was just born yesterday! Kevin looked very, very happy.) Hey, Kevin, before you head back to the hospital, can you take a picture of me?
Kevin didn’t disappoint. He immediately asked questions about what I wanted the shot to look like, (me walking from Gerhard’s house, with the vase and scissors in my hands), dropped to the sidewalk and began shooting pictures. A pro! Regular people do not drop to the sidewalk to take pictures. Click here for a picture describing what I mean.
Then Kendra arrived with her sons and baby. As soon as Baby caught sight of Darling Husband and me, she burst into tears. I think she was afraid she’d get shot with a Nerf Gun and we’d tell her, “Where’s the wound? It’ll happen, kid.” She cried for the first two hours of the party if it looked like her mother was even thinking about leaving her with us. “No! Not them! Don’t leave me with them!” Here’s a picture of Claude and Baby in the hammock after baby has calmed down.
Then Gerhard and Janet stopped by with a gift for Boy7. They signed the card, “From Boy65 and Girl 59.”
Then I frosted Boy7’s cake. There are benefits to being the Froster of the Cake. If you use two cans of frosting for one cake, there are leftovers. That you can eat to your heart’s content. Or until you make yourself sick.
I’d meant to color the frosting blue and use the white stuff to write with. But I was so distracted with guests and pictures that I forgot and left the frosting white. The only color I had for accent was yellow. Look at it! This is not a blue boy cake! It’s a girl cake! (head slap) I’m so sorry Boy7.
I added sprinkles. Maybe they won’t notice it’s a girl cake if there are sprinkles. And some manly blue and green candles.
No, I think that’s worse. I’d better stick to writing blogs and leave the cake decorating to the professionals.
All told, there were 11 little boys in the house. E-le-ven. Eleven possible pizza stains on the carpet. Eleven possible juice spills. We made them eat outside. Darling Husband passed them their food and drinks through the kitchen window. They loved it.
Then, piñata time. Oh, heavens above, piñata time.
Boy7 chose the bunny piñata because it was the first one he saw. With bats in hand, the boys began chanting, “Kill the innocent bun-NY! Kill the innocent bun-NY” SMACK! Poor little bunny. After the piñata was dead, they chanted, “We killed the innocent bun-NY! We killed the innocent bun-NY!”
(Wow. I forgot how good Looney Tune cartoons were. Love those things.)
Darling Husband was getting a little punchy by the end of the party. One little boy was not happy that he didn’t have a red lightsaber. I overheard this conversation:
“Mr. Husband! I want to be Darth Vader, but no one will give me their red light saber!”
“Well, they’re still using them.”
“But Mr. Husband! I really, really want to be Darth Vader.”
“Well, how about you be Darth Vader’s brother?”
“Darth Vader doesn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, he does. It’s Ralph Vader. And his light saber is green. Oh! Look here! Here is a green light saber! Now you can be Ralph Vader.”
The party lasted four hours. And now I have six months to recover until Boy9’s Birthday Extravaganza. And he always has a sleep over! Ay yi yi!
Song stuck in my head today: Love Addict. Oh, someone please help me. The only line I know is ‘Hold Up, wait a minute, put a little love in it’. Over and over and over and over and over and over, stuck in my head. Please make it stop!!!! Where is O Danny Boy when you need him???
They play Love Addict at the skating rink all the time.
I didn’t really steal the daffodils. I mean, duh. If I did, I wouldn’t blog about it. They read the blog.