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Banana Smoothie
Add some crushed graham crackers and you have a lazy (wo)man's banana cream pie. Yum.
(On a related note, the kids are craving popsicles these days...anyone seen any fun molds around?)
1. Mail invitations in advance.
2. Fly to hometown. Drive 3 hours. Witness one's brother-in-law tie the knot. (Congrats, Kurt and Paige!) Drive 3 hours back to hometown. Halfway there, dial cell phone and...
guilt sister into making the Coolest Cake Ever.
Oh, and hosting 20+ family members last-minute at her house.
4. Assemble Martha Stewart animal puppets purchased on clearance at Michael's.
5. Re-assemble animal puppets using (I beg to differ, Martha) glue that actually works.
Meanwhile, send husband to pick up Grandpa Great. Welcome first guest then immediately turn her away with instructions to pick up 6 "hot and ready" (why does that always make me giggle?) pizzas from Little Caesar's. Cross fingers that no one else arrives before the food does.
6. Hang handmade paper garlands after confirming they have indeed miraculously survived the journey.
7. Apply finishing touches.
8. Breathe.
9. Forget parade. Relax and enjoy an evening of celebration in the company of the fabulous people who made it all possible.
We are slowly but surely recovering from a nasty stomach bug that hit its first unfortunate victim last Saturday. Poor Birthday Boy. After two days of vomiting, he managed to go the whole day without incident, cruelly lulling us all into a false sense of intestinal security. Then he ate the ice cream. Threw up. And asked for more.
He is nothing if not determined.
So we had a quiet birthday, which is just the way he would prefer it anyway. Less pomp and circumstance. More strawberries + white ice cream. Minus the vomit.
From top:
Dad made the sign.
Liv made an awesome card and wrapped the packages. Using industrial packing tape. Which means she also got to help unwrap the packages. Genius.
I made the crown. As I suspected, he no likey.
I made Brown Dog a collar and leash, as well as a stuffed bone (not pictured). He likey.
As is our tradition, the birthday child and I made a treat together (his choice). No cake. Just strawberries. With "white" ice cream, please.
A factory made the waffle bowls.
Dear Son,
In a few hours you won't be two years old anymore. Wow, you are growing up. Fast.
It occurs to me that you won't always...
fit on my lap
wear galoshes on the wrong feet
(wear galoshes at all, actually)
let me choose your hairstyle
mispronounce M&Ms and lemon-aide
have a voice bigger than your body
kiss me in front of your friends
play with my hair
run like a toddler
run just because you can
randomly burst into song
make up words
say "I gueth tho"
hang around in your underwear
announce "Here I am!" when we play hide-and-seek
be so quick to forgive
play dress-up
insist on saying the blessing at every meal
sleep with a stuffed dog
ride a rubber horse
volunteer to "help" mow the lawn
No, you won't always do those things. And I will miss them. So I write them down. And maybe, just maybe I will always...
remember what you were like when you were Almost (But Not Quite) Three.
The littlest one in the house is sick today, so I'll keep it short...like my mom. Heh. Here she is, third from the left and somehow managing to look tall (-ish) in this photo:
I love this photo of my mom. (And her mom, actually, next to her, on the right.) She looks so young and fabulous. It's fun to imagine her as a twenty-something "girl about town" in San Francisco in the 1960s. I'm not sure I would have been cool enough to be her friend then (short hair + coastal humidity = not a good look for me) so it's lucky I got to call her Mother first.
Friendship has come over the years, especially as I've had my own children and experienced motherhood from the other side of the counter. ("What? Moms are people too? With...feelings? Ohhhh.") I treasure that friendship and my mother's presence in my life, even as present circumstances keep us physically absent from each other.
I also treasure the other women in my life who have played mothering roles--K's mom, grandmothers on both sides, each of my sisters. I never would have guessed that the older I got the more I'd need my mothers. Seems backwards, but it's true. Thank you, all of you, for being you.
Happy Mother's Day.
xoxo,
c
Just returned from a (not-nearly-long-enough) trip to see our families. Back to regular posting soon...
P.S. That feature-less creature there is Olivia's "friend" who helped her survive the flights. Asher has one too. Only his is a boy. And very manly. Download the WeeWonderfuls pattern here.
