Melted

I love birthday parties. Love them. In fact, I love throwing parties even more than going to them. I spend months thinking about what food I'll make, exactly how to create decorations using things we have on hand, and... well... that's pretty much it. I just like to think about food and decorations.

Last fall when I was miserably pregnant (no offense Nils!) we hit up the Target Halloween clearance and I announced that a Charlotte's Web party would be just perfect for Carolena's third birthday celebration. I bought web and spider crafts and enlisted my sister and mom to help me find a million plastic spiders. I spent months daydreaming about turning our backyard into a county fair. I designed and redesigned invitations until they were perfect.

And then we watched Frozen.

And then we watched Frozen again.

And then we watched Frozen again.

And then... well... you get the picture.

So, invitations were recreated using Olaf. Because it's July in Texas and we were hosting a Frozen party, a new sprinkler was purchased for the backyard. A few nights were spent painting Olaf onto an extra piece of plywood I found hanging out in our garage. Marshmallows, chocolate chips, and jellybeans were tossed onto the kitchen island as I announced, "okay, we've got to figure out how to turn these cupcakes into Olaf." Can you tell someone in our household likes a particular snowman? Coffee filters were cut into snowflakes and strung up outside. And, voila! A Texas style Frozen party was thrown.

 

 

Dozens of donut holes were consumed. Olaf cupcakes were enjoyed... well, the icing was at least. Elsa's Snow (aka blue koolaid) was gulped down. A sugar high was enjoyed by all. Carolena had a very happy Frozen birthday indeed! So, look forward to a Charlotte's Web or Halloween party invitation coming your way soon. Those spiders in my closet can't stay there forever!

The Glorious Fourth

 

Two bedrooms. Two bathrooms. Five kids under the age of five.

 

Two types of creatures kissed by Carolena: two hermit crabs and one mullet. 

Don't dare that girl to do anything.

 

 At least one nap.

 One more female who proved the continued strength of the Svendsen Gene. 

Welcome to the club, Jack Jack.

One picture of Carolena that strangely looks nothing like her. Who is this child?

Oh, there she is! One picture of Carolena that captures so much... "Carolena won't get offfff meeeee."

Two cousins who will go through life hearing the phrase, "this photo will be at their joint graduation party someday" over and over and over. 

Actually, strike that, there will be at least four cousins hearing that phrase...

One baby who likes pacifiers. One baby who likes to steal pacifiers just to get his goat.

One set of muppets in a sink bathtub. "We're baby tigers." Ah yes, because of the buckets on your heads. That makes perfect sense. I should have known.

A full day on the beach complete with picnic and skipped naps.

Blondies and watermelon and pineapple and American flag sheet cake.

S'mores. Oh Lordy, the s'mores.

Three big kids in pjs on Jimmer's lap for Brer Rabbit bedtime stories.

Children insisting that "Moom do it."What is "it" in this sentence? Anything and everything.

Record breaking seaweed.

Kids old enough to sit on the deck in pajamas and watch the fireworks.

A glorious fourth indeed.

Complaining About Complainers

One of the things I find so fascinatingly annoying about motherhood is interacting with other mothers. Geeze, what a bunch of whiners. You do remember that it was your choice to have children, right? You do know that you can choose to go back to work if you hate being a stay-home-mom so much, right? You do know that you can turn off the tv, drive to the pool, and spend the entire day swimming and eating snowcones, right?

Recently someone mentioned a conversation she and I supposedly had in which I said I wasn't sure what to do with Carolena home for the summer. I was horrified. This other mom had the wrong person. Me? Not know what to do with my children for the summer? What?! Also, Carolena only goes to school for a few hours a week... her not going to school isn't all that different. I tried my best not to be rude (and I think I succeeded) and told her that I am actually enjoying a fun-packed summer. It is Carolena in fact who misses school. Not me. Sheesh. Like I would ever complain about spending time with one of my favorite people in the whole world. Like I would ever say I don't know what to do in the summer.

Thinking that I had complained about kids being home from school wasn't that far fetched though - because I seem to be the exception on this topic, not the rule. So many other moms have complained to me about not knowing what to do with their kids. I honestly don't get it. I mean, yes, I do feel judgmental about it (God forgive me), but also, I really don't get it. How can you not know what to do?

Days around here are filled with trips to the library, trips to the pool, Sonic drinks, and popsicles. We go on picnics every chance we get. We stay at the park until we're so sweaty and exhausted we have to get home and collapse into bed for siestas (or lie in bed sobbing because we'd rather be outside - depends on the day). We've got a calendar full of beach weekends and birthday parties. We spend entire afternoons working on arts and crafts while listening to the Annie or Frozen soundtracks (or if we're feeling exceptionally crazy - both soundtracks on shuffle. We're rebellious like that.). June has already whizzed past us and we haven't even had time to accomplish anything on our official summer fun list! A trip to the children's museum (with free tickets won by Grandma! woo!), a day at the splashpad, NASA, Galveston, SFA State Park... the list goes on... watch out July and August, the Duncans are here and there is a lot of fun to be had!

Half Off on All Swimsuits, Clogs, and a Sunbalm of My Own Invention. Yah.

"OOO-HOOO! Big Summer Blow-Out!" I called out as I crouched on our kitchen floor painting Olaf onto a large piece of plywood while listening to the Frozen soundtrack on repeat. Again.
Carolena responded with a hearty laugh and replied, "That's your favorite."
"Ha - yeah, it is" I said.
"My favorites is Eewlaf (Olaf) and the Snow Monster. He's a bad guy. They're my favorites"  replied Carolena as she sat at the kitchen table coloring, cutting, and gluing like crazy.
"I know" I said, "I love that about you. You are such a cool kid. And, like it or not, between your love for the Snow Monster and your affinity for snakes I think it is safe to say you appear to have inherited some of my Slytherin tendencies."

Disney pushes princesses like other people push drugs... or abstinence depending upon his or her lot in life. Heaven forbid Disney find out Carolena cheered for the snow monster the first time she saw Frozen. "Noo!! Snooowww Monsssteerrrr!!!" my little 2.5 year old cried reaching out her arm out longingly as the snow monster plummeted to his demise. Needless to say, we've only found princess party supplies for Carolena's Frozen themed birthday party. While that would certainly be fine with her... "fine" isn't the same as giddy-inducing. So, enter the plywood and a bunch of paint. And perhaps a shipment from amazon UK if I can ever figure out how much those Olaf napkins will actually cost. Evidently American kids aren't allowed to like Olaf. I haven't even tried finding snow monster party hats. I think somehow amongst the princess napkins, tiaras, and general pinkness that's too much of a long shot. "That would be in our winter department where supply and demand have a big problem."

W.O.W.

Words of Wisdom
By Carolena

In the mornings Mommy likes to let you know what's  on the schedule for the rest of the day. If she tells you that you are going to go to a "Waist Watchers" meeting and then to Moom's house respond with a hearty, "That sounds fun! But first, I need a drink."

The term "nap" has a fairly loose definition. For me, that just means stay in my room. Mommy insists that it means to stay in bed either sleeping or reading books or quietly playing. It's far better to spend naptime relaxing in a "cubby" underneath the bed, lying sprawled across the dresser, or standing on the window sill.

Nothing is better than hanging out with other kids. If you go to the park, or the pool, or the beach, or even the grocery store and see someone around your age just scream out, "Guys! I'm here!! I'm Carolena!" Kids. They're awesome.

Cookie Monster

Rebecca* and I met at the gym. We'd seen one another at Weight Watchers earlier that morning and formally met while dropping off our babies in the gym's childcare. In my opinion, a normal first meeting someone conversation goes something like this:
Her: "You work out here too? I recognize you from Weight Watchers!"
Me: "Yeah! I love ww (or gym)!"
Her: "Cool. My name is Rebecca. I guess I'll be seeing you around!"
Me: "Sounds great! I'm Casey."

Our meeting went like this:
"You going to Body Pump?" says a random vaguely familiar stranger as I hang my baby's diaper bag on the wall. Startled, I reply "yes."

"Yeah, I go every Tuesday" she said "I've done Weight Watchers before. I'm a lifetime member. Just back to lose the baby weight. You know you should really..."
Ahhh... Weight Watchers. That's where I know you from. I noncommittally nod my head as I barely listen to her litany of things I "should" be doing. She drones on while I scan the room for a place to sit down and nurse my baby so that I can get to class on time. Why is this woman standing between me and the chairs? And more importantly, why is she standing between me and the door?!

"Body Pump is great. How many times a week do you go?" she asks.
"Oh, only Tuesdays" I reply "on Thursdays I do Body Attack."
"Well, you really should be going to Body Pump at least three times a week" she says, shaking her head at me in disdain.
"That is what they recommend" I reply "But I've got two days a week to work out and I'm not giving up either class. So that's what I'm doing. My friend and I are training for our first mudrun. I'm working on getting ready for that."
"Mudrun?" she asks "That will be no big deal. I do them all of the time."
As she launched into a new diatribe about the need for me to add more Body Pump into my schedule, I wondered what her name was and how to avoid her in the future. "Well," she finally said, "you should really put your baby down and get to Body Pump or you're going to be late."

The Stage Five Clingers always know where to find me. Over the next few weeks I had a few more Close Strange Encounters of the Third Kind with Rebecca.

Standing outside an exercise class waiting for it to begin I was startled when Rebecca was suddenly right in front of me. Can she apparate? Instead of a normal "hello" or "how are you?" Rebecca looked me straight in the eye and said, "Well, I totally lost it last night and ate a ton of cookies."
With what I hoped was a sympathetic look on my face I nodded and said, "Ugh. I know what that's like. Just got to put it behind you though and get back on track."
Rebecca went on, "Yeah. I went to Sam's and bought a big thing of cookies and just ate the entire thing. The whole time I kept imagining you were there and telling me not too and I just kept saying F*&% you, Casey! F*&% you! and cramming more and more cookies into my mouth. I didn't even want them anymore, but I just kept eating them and yelling at you."

Oh.

And that was when I realized I had once again unwillingly (but not unwittingly) befriended a lunatic.



*Name has been changed to protect the innocent. Which in this case... is me.

Tales From the Cyrpt

I recently spent a day with a girl who is a friend of a friend. For the sake of anonymity let's call this girl Erin. Although, Erin might actually be her name. I can't remember.

So, um... Jennifer... no... Rene... no... Amber... yeah,  "Amber" so let's go with that. Amber and I were talking and somehow it came up in conversation that I am thirty-one. Amber was twenty-something or some other godawful age in which girls talk about their older boyfriends and bikini waxing and thigh cellulite. These conversations were never my forte.

When I mentioned the fact that I'm thirty-one Amber's wide-eyed genuinely surprised response was "You're thirty-one?! Woowww." She then proceeded to stare intently at my face until pronouncing "Thirty one? You have really great skin."

On the one hand, thanks! I'll take the compliment.

On the other, how many people over the age of twenty-nine has this girl ever met? What does she think happens? On your thirtieth birthday you turn into the crypt keeper?

Later on that afternoon as we parted ways Amber told me her plans for the rest of the day, "Yeah... I think I'm just going to, like, lay out by the pool {glances at the clear blue sunny sky} Hm... yeah... I probably won't wear sunscreen today... well, bye!"

Ah, yes, that explains everything.