Photo Per Day #7: Kitty Condo

Last night we hosted a bunch of nine year old boys for a sleepover. I think they had heaps o' fun. They played football and baseball outside in the freezing cold. Came in and played video games. Ate pizza and chocolate fondue (big hit). Received gift bags with Lego mini-figures and Brickarms weapons (because what Lego surfer dude is complete without an assault rifle?) Played more video games. Football in the basement. And they tried to stay up all night. 

Yep, the only night of the year when you don't want an extra hour . . .

Today's pic is post-mayhem: the kittens relaxing in their new Japanese style housing complex and looking at each other a la the Brady Bunch.

Time to go to sleep.

House of Pain

On Saturday, we took nine boys to Bounce-it-Out: a giant warehouse filled with bounce houses and inflatable slides.

The parents of one neighborhood boy couldn't take him so we drove him. They also couldn't find the invite so we agreed to sign his waiver. The hubby joked with the kid's dad as we drove away, "Say goodbye to Tommy. You might not ever see him again."

This kid couldn't be any cuter. Little guy with white blond hair and a sweet face. He's also the same kid who comes to visit and, next thing you know, is as high as possible in our trees and I'm fearing for his life. As the youngest of three, he's wilder than some of the other kids we know. Yet his parents are two of the most laid back people you could meet. His mom is like Martha Stewart and his dad is like a modern day Ward Cleaver.

At Bounce-it-Out, the hubby and I sat down at the quietest place we could find which was away from the mayhem and behind the snack bar. About five minutes later, an Indian kid is ushered over to the counter with what appears to be a broken nose. Blood everywhere. All over napkins, his hands, his mom's hands, etc. The teenage help is filling plastic gloves with ice. (Note: they need an RN on staff. Hence the waiver.)

I say to the hubby, "Oh, please don't let that happen to any of the kids with us!"

He responds, "Well, if it does, it'll be Tommy because we signed his waiver."

Not one minute later, Tommy comes running over, head in hands, crying. He points to a big, bulbous, purple lump forming on his temple. "I just smashed my head into that kid's nose."

Of course you did.

He calms down, returns to the scene of the crime and another kid, Keith, comes over clutching his belly. "My stomach hurts."

"What's the matter?" I ask as I'm thinking, "Oh Lord, here we go."

"Tommy just tackled me."

Of course he did!

I just hope my nightmares end soon.

I came to get down. I came to get down. So get out your seats and jump around. Jump around. Jump around. Jump around. Jump up. Jump up and get down.

Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump.

Battle for My Sanity in 3D

The parenting manual should have come with directions on how to plan a birthday party for a nine year old boy.

Simple wish: to see Battle for Terra in 3D with a handful of friends

Challenge #1: theaters cannot tell you if a movie will even be in their theater until the Tuesday before that same weekend
Challenge #2: manager who plans parties begins work at 9:00 p.m. (seriously)
Challenge #3: every kid in town is on a different sports schedule so the window of opportunity is limited to Saturday after 4:00 p.m.

Solution #1: put all parents on hold (yes, we're having a party but we don't know what/when)

Challenge #4: movie got horrific reviews and was already sent to DVD
Challenge #5: nothing else is coming out that is rated G or PG
Challenge #6: every other establishment like bounce-it-out is booked solid on Saturday
Challenge #7: Sunday is Mother's Day

Solution #2: leave parents hanging while son cries inconsolably AND never, ever, ever, ever plan a birthday party around a craptacular movie, ever

Pool party at the Holiday Inn anyone?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Son #2: I can't waaaaait for my birthday party next weekend -- Village Sports is going to be sooooooooooo much fun.

Son #1: Duh. Birthday parties are always fun.

Son #2: But Village Sports is the best.

Son #1: Doesn't matter. Can you think of anywhere that wouldn't be fun if it was a party?

Son #2: Verizon Wireless.

Holy non sequitur Batman! But he is right . . .

Summertime and the livin' is easy

Spent the weekend on the party circuit with the kids.

At my girlfriend’s daughter’s high school graduation/18^th birthday party, I got to spend time with the “kids” I grew up with which is one of the best gifts of living in my hometown again. Sallie’s gorgeous house sits uphill from a big pond that she swims in almost daily but, judging by the size and number of koi visible from just standing on the dock, I would be totally freaked out. Pool or pond? Pond would be good for her; pool for me!

Just beyond her white picket fence, lies a large field in which thousands of fireflies were sparkling that night. It felt like the scene from a Disney film. I only wish that I had brought my camera. Can you capture that kind of magic on film?

The following night, we went to the first birthday party for the little girl next door. The fete, which was more elaborate than many wedding receptions, was held at her grandparents’ house. Their back yard was larger than my entire neighborhood and was so park-like that it could have been designed by Fredrick Law Olmstead and I wouldn’t have been surprised. The meal was fully catered and the tent decorated throughout with balloons and giant lollipops covered in multi-colored cellophane wrappers. There were tables literally overflowing with candy (e.g., Pixie Stix, Tootsie Rolls, Smarties) and toys (e.g., snakes, beach balls, tattoos) for the kids to fill their monogrammed take-home bags.

The boys had a blast swimming with the other children while the neighborhood parents and I sat poolside sipping margaritas. It was the perfect night.

After Cold Stone Creamery came with their marble slabs and dished out ice cream for everyone, the proud mom cut the wedding, I mean birthday, cake. It was a three-tiered confection with pink, purple and white marzipan stripes and dots. The entire top layer was then given to the birthday girl for her to stick her fingers in and devour.

My only gripe: where were the pony rides? Cutting corners?!

Just kidding, of course. They're probably next year.

Bad Day: #3

Last but not least . . .

A couple of years ago, I went to a birthday party with my kids. The wife, my cherished long-running friend Melinda, asked me if I would like a piece of cake and, before I could answer, her husband (who I also love) said, “Of course she’d like cake, look at her.” Uh, did I just hear that correctly?

Instead of letting it ride, she asked him, “What’s that supposed to mean?” and he responded, “Well, she used to . . . well she’s now raising two beautiful boys and that’s her priority.”

She then turned to me and said, “Don’t listen to him; he’s an idiot. If it’s any consolation, I ran into someone at T’s recently who said to me, ‘You’re Melinda? What happened? You used to be hot.’”

If only it ended there. Her husband said, “Well Melinda, that’s true for her, too. Don’t you remember when she used to be hot?”

Thanks. I think I’ll pass on that piece of cake and just go straight for the vodka.