8th Time the Charm?

You tell me. Was the party a success?

Oops I Did It Again

I am the worst mom when it comes to birthday parties. I think I'm pretty darn good at having a grown up party. I love figuring out the theme and setting the table and even having favors if it complements the event. But when it comes to my daughter's birthday I fall far short on the party-meter.

Last year was a disaster (see my post from February 2008.) I was determined to redeem myself this year. Her birthday was on Tuesday so I knew it could be low key until the weekend celebration for her friends. It started out great with a chocolate donut AND waffles for breakfast served on her special birthday plate. She got to open one gift in the morning and it was all smiles when I took her to school.

After school, it was the same. Happiness as she opened ALL of her gifts before going to gymnastics. She got the Littlest Pet Shop Fitness Center that she had been dying for since Thanksgiving, cute clothes from grandparents and her aunt and uncle. The piece de resistance was a two-wheel (Barbie) scooter.

Things were going great. She got to bring a friend to gymnastics where she showed off by climbing the rope in record time. Then to dinner at McDonalds (her choice) for chicken nuggets and more play time. Finally we were home for birthday cake.

Oh dear. I forgot to buy birthday candles. Normally we would have plenty lying around but since we've moved I can't always locate things. The birthday candles could be anywhere. A box in the garage, a bathroom drawer, under the bed. Who knows.

I tried to downplay it with Leah. Maybe she won't mind. The cake is so cute (pink and purple daisies.) What was I thinking? The meltdown began. "I hate my birthday." "I don't want any cake."

Sobbing ensued.

But mothers are nothing if not resourceful. I found some darling, little votives that looked like champagne bottles -- but only five. So I scrounged around and found some tapers. Because they were so big I didn't want them to ruin the decorations so I gently put them on the side of the cake. Look.

I thought it looked rather cute but she was not convinced. More tears. Threats and scowls. She wanted nothing to do with the imposters. She fled the scene while they dripped waterfalls of wax threatening to cover the entire side with a parafin veil. But Lynn and I persevered and sang to her and she relented blowing out the candles before it was too late.

So far I am 3 for 8 on birthdays. Years one and two were fine but only because they were basically grown up parties. We didn't have a party for her 3rd birthday (slipped that by her.) Number four was a disaster. We planned a nice little party at a dairy farm where they could tour the farm and then celebrate in one of the pavilions but that was the year we had record rainfall and the dairy closed the party side. We quickly regrouped at Peter Piper Pizza where it was sheer bedlam. Kids running in every direction, tokens, pizza, soda pop galore. Her fifth birthday was my only other success. Pump It Up. A big warehouse with miles and miles of bouncers. Nirvana for the pre-school set. She had a great time and the party room afterwards was wonderful with an inflatable throne. That year I ordered a Barbie birthday cake which continues to be Leah's favorite!!! The downside of that year was that the entire thing cost $400 which is about $300 too much for a 5 year old's birthday celebration.

When she was six we rented a cabin in Northern Arizona and spent the weekend in the snow. We had a great time but she still complains about not having a party. Last year was well documented in this blog. I still suffer from post traumatic stress syndrome over that fiasco.

And now she's eight. I have a chance to redeem myself on Sunday when we have her party at Makutu's Island. I've never been but I hear it's a child's dream. She is having only 5 friends and she picked the guests without my help. I think it's a strange mix but I'm trying to let go since last year I orchestrated things and we know what happened. So, tomorrow evening will either be heaven or hell chez Woods. Wish me Godspeed.

Ku Ku Ka Chu

Complicated girl
Amazing, bright hazel eyes
Today she is eight

Like a Bad Penny?

I cleaned out my closet this weekend. Recycling everything I haven't worn in the past year(s). It felt good.

I am having trouble with one item of clothing though.

Jeans.

Will high-waisted, straight-legs ever come back? I mean I know they are fine on supermodels. They can wear whatever they like. But how about normal women? Should I keep them just in case? I have a dozen pair that are still in good shape. It will cost so much to replace them if we wake up next Fall and find that unflattering jeans are back in.

I had no trouble getting rid of jackets and tops with monster shoulder pads. Why can't I bid adieu to my mom jeans?

Where's My Secret Service Detail?

Today we had lunch at Burger King. Not my choice. Leah insisted. Had a fit in fact. I wanted to go somewhere and be waited on. Plus I hate those play areas. I can't even think about the germs that reside on those slides. (Would it kill them to include anti-bacterial wipes next to the entrance?)

When we were about a foot from the door, I heard a man yell "wait, wait, I'll get the door." He sounded almost desperate. Took me a minute to realize he was talking to us. I turned toward him and then I stepped aside so he could hold the door for us. He was obviously mentally challenged and I thought it was important to him so I let him get the door.

He was short, 45-ish, raincoat, glasses and a big open face. He did not have Down Syndrome but it was obvious that he was mentally challenged in some way.

He kept talking to me -- loudly. (Why is it the cute, intellectual guys at Starbucks never talk to me?) He told me I had a beautiful daughter (perhaps he's not mentally challenged after all!), then he said she looks just like me (I love, love, love it when I hear that.)

I was polite and responded to him each time but he was really loud and he made me uncomfortable. (I know, I know.)

After we ordered and waited at the counter, he said "Do you know who you look like?" I thought "oh boy, this will be good." I don't look like anyone famous. I wondered who he would say. He proudly told me that I look like Betty Ford. I really wanted to say "the young Betty Ford or Betty Ford now?" But I knew my humor would be lost. I simply said "thank you." Then he repeated that my daughter looks just like me.

After we sat down Leah said how nice he was. I explained that he's mentally challenged and that she probably reads and understands better than he does. She asked how he got like that and I said I wasn't sure and that some people are born that way but sometimes they are in accidents that hurt their brain. She tilted her head like she didn't understand but she nodded like she did. I wanted her to know that he is different but that it's okay.

Even though things were a little awkward, it felt good that someone immediately called Leah my daughter without first calling me her grandma. I mean, really, I think people who are mentally challenged are usually more honest than most of us. If he thought I was her grandma, he would not have hesitated to say so.

Maybe we should frequent Burger King more often.

Parent Pick-Up

Leah is beside herself with happiness today. I did not buy her a new DS game, nor did I get her a new WebKinz. Guess again.

It's true what they say. The best thing you can give your child is your time. I have the week off to take care of some things that have been neglected since we moved (cleaning, organizing, etc.) Since I have no schedule, I asked Leah if she'd like me to pick her up from school today. She screamed "yes" before I could finish asking the question. She started giving me instructions on the "parent pick-up". How I wait in the car and she comes to me. Which parking lot I go to and that I am not allowed to get out of my car. I must wait. Oh and I must send a note to her teacher so she knows to escort her.

Her little face was full of excitement and happiness this morning when she reminded me.

I'm a little excited too. She's a 2nd grader and this is a first for us.

It bothers me that I have to work full-time which means she has to go to after school care instead of coming right home. I don't think she's suffered for it but I would like to have a more relaxed evening with her. It isn't possible to relax when we're always hurrying during our few hours at home together every night.

But today will be different.