Simple Man

I don't talk about my husband much here except tangentially, partly because he doesn't really like me to, but also because I don't like to. He's my best-kept secret, and like all good secrets, it's probably for the best if I don't go on about him overmuch.

But today is his birthday, so I'm making an exception. (Also, I didn't get him a present yet, so ... here you go, babe.)

I have said before, and I will say again, how lucky I am for having my husband for a partner and spouse. I will shout it from the hills, the treetops, the dunes, the cliffs, wherever -- I am so damned lucky, and I know it. Literally my only complaint about my husband, the only "real" one, is that I have absolutely no complaints. He is one of those rarest of specimens: a true and good and simple and uncomplicated man, a true and good and simple and uncomplicated person, someone I am proud and honored and thrilled to be able to swear my allegiance to, someone who still drinks the same beer he drank in college.

That's not a backhanded compliment, either: that's high praise, coming from me. I am a cynic and a drama queen and a neurotic overthinker and a compulsive oversharer and kind of an asshole, and I honestly believe that there is nothing in the world more wonderful, more beautiful, more perfect, than having something or someone in your life who is true and good and simple and uncomplicated. And he is mine, all mine.

We have known each other for 20 years now. More than half our lives. We were children then, college sweethearts, and we have grown up together. He and I have been through so much in that time: graduations, mortgages, unemployment, infertility, adoption, marriages and divorces of dear friends, deaths of pets and grandparents and parents -- he has been my rock and my happy place through all of it. He'll still slow dance with me if "our song" comes on at parties, at receptions, in the middle of the mall. He still kisses me goodbye every morning before work, and he still kisses me goodnight every night before bed. True and good and simple and uncomplicated.

He softens my edges and quiets the voices in my head. He washes the dishes, folds the laundry, makes the bed, sets the alarms, fixes the computers, changes the litter, stops the insanity. He encourages me, holds me, woos me, reassures me, laughs with me but never at me. True and good and simple and uncomplicated. He is my Benedick, my Han Solo, my Sundance, my yin, my constant. Without him, I am nothing. I am because we are.

And we are because he is. Because he is everything. It's a lot of power and a lot of responsibility, but he is just the kind of man who can handle it. True and good and simple and uncomplicated.

Happy birthday, G.

Now We Are Six

I may or may not have been saving that blog post title for the last five years, one month, and seven days. I can neither confirm nor deny. (But you already know it's the truth, anyway.)

"'What day is it?'
'It's today,' squeaked Piglet.
'My favorite day,' said Pooh."

"'When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,' said Piglet at last, 'what's the first thing you say to yourself?'
'What's for breakfast?' said Pooh. 'What do you say, Piglet?'
'I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?' said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. 'It's the same thing,' he said."

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why we call it the present."

"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you."

-- All quotes by A.A. Milne

Ain't No Party Like A Preschool Party

'Cuz a preschool party has a trampoline and an ice cream truck. HOLLA!

In case you were wondering: no, we did not intend to cut her hair that short. I am significantly less than happy about it, honestly, and in fact had quite a nice little nutty hysterical fit, but I'll be damned if the kid isn't enough of a diva to pull it off. It's longer than it was at first, since it's had a week to grow in already. On the plus side, her shower time has been cut in half, and we don't spend 45 minutes alternately screaming and then staring dumbly at each other in the morning trying to detangle / comb out / style her damn fool head.

Synchronized noshing. This picture gets me REALLY EXCITED about the photo possibilities for the summer, because I am that totally dorky aunt who bought matching outfits and swimsuits for these two so that I can do the whole "identical cousins" thing for next year's calendar. Because don't they look so much alike? Except my niece looks like my dad and my daughter looks like my mom and so basically they look exactly nothing alike?

For the longest time I thought I hit the jackpot, because Shae has so much personality and pizzazz in pictures, but it turns out I actually hit the jackpot at least TWICE, because Makayla loves posing for the camera, too. You can't really tell here, but she was pedaling herself backwards on this trike and saying "Vroom vroom!" the entire time and it was the cutest thing EVER.

I asked Makayla to show me her lollipop, and she held it out to me like she was going to let me have a taste, and then yoinked it away at the last minute, all "HA ha!" like Nelson Muntz. Booger. Wiseassery runs in the family, obviously. Must be something in the water.

Hey, look! CAKEFACE! Oh, how I missed it.

PARTY TIME! EXCELLENT!

Someone went and turned five without my permission. I am not ready to be the parent of a school-age child. It makes me feel so old.

She's kind of smug about it, actually, but I'll forgive her this ONE TIME because she's so cute.

She wanted to start kindergarten yesterday morning. Because when you're five, you get to go to kindergarten. Could you just die?

We had a piñata at the party but we didn't get very good pictures, but we did get a great shot of the Oogie's Ice Cream truck, which judging from the response of the crowd is maybe the single greatest thing that ever existed in the entire history of the whole wide world.

I'm kind of inclined to agree, myself. Who doesn't love an ice cream truck? Nobody I want to know.

The only bummer about her party was that it was cold, maybe 40°F. But nobody minded, really, because there was an ice cream truck.

At least sometimes she's still my little girl.

Abandonment Issues

Oh, hey, I still have a blog! And despite all evidence to the contrary, I didn't run off and join the circus or anything! Even though I kind of want to! Because there has been a lot of stuff going on! Like finding Christmas presents from last year! And wrapping them! Because other ones went missing! And then there was all that paperwork for graduate school! And calendars to finish! And then nervous breakdowns about finishing calendars and getting grad school paperwork in! And holiday card to make and print and mail! And parties! And more parties! And not enough tequila! And possibly running out of exclamation points!

It hasn't been all bad, just extremely busy. As things tend to be at this time of year.

And somewhere in there when I wasn't paying attention, my niece turned a year old, which just shouldn't be allowed. Babies should be babied forever because I said so. If she's a year older already, then so am I, and I don't think I can take getting much older because DAMN. I am tired.

Makayla's party was a lot of fun, though, even though I am starting to suspect that this kid might possibly not actually be related to me, because she basically wanted NO PART of her birthday cake, not even the adorable little smash cake.

She just wanted to prance around in her pretty little princess dress, although I can't say I blame her, because that dress was gorgeous. But I wanted to get the "money shot," the perfect picture of her tiny little delicious one-year-old first birthday cake-face.

207 shots later, I got something I could work with. Happy birthday, kiddo!

Happy Birthday To My Sister

We have a little message for you:

And some CAKEFACE! pictures, because of course we had a cupcake in your honor:

Hope your day was great. The cupcake sure was.

Bittersweet Birthday

Today is my grandmother's birthday.

It would also have been my grandfather's birthday, and my grandfather was older than my grandmother, so today is literally the first birthday my grandmother has ever had without my grandfather.

And yesterday would have been their anniversary.

I can't imagine what it must be like to know that it's your first wedding anniversary and your first shared birthday after your husband of many years has passed. To have to celebrate those things on and around Thanksgiving, a holiday that is all about family, and to get through that without the one person who was your family for so long ... I just can't imagine.

Yesterday on our way to Thanksgiving dinner, Shae saw a "shooting star" -- really a contrail, but anyway -- and she said, "Mommy, make a wish." And I did.

I wished for my grandmother to have a happy birthday. And I really hope she can. And I really hope that everyone else remembers that today is her birthday, too.

Hello Kitty Party!

I admit, I don't know always know the first damn thing about raising a little girl -- I mean, COME ON, have you met me? I am much more capable of having conversations about baseball statistics than I am about Barbie dolls, and I couldn't begin to tell you what the heck a "Lalaloopsy" is supposed to be even if you held a gun to my head, but I could probably tell you who the last ten Super Bowl MVP's were* -- but let me tell you a little not-so-secret: I love Hello Kitty. Because believe it or not, I am human, and I have absolutely no defense against the awesome super powers of the Sanrio Corporation.

We went to a friend's birthday party over the weekend, and we knew going in that it was a Hello Kitty party, and I wore some pink, at least. Okay, technically it was a pink-and-blue turtleneck, but there was definitely some pink going on. And, yes, I stood in front of the cake and took about a dozen pictures, because LOOK AT THAT THING. It's adorable. No, it didn't have a light-up Hello Kitty figurine, but still. (It was also -- wait for it -- delicious.)

The birthday girl has an entire Hello Kitty ROOM. I am jealous. So is Shae, I think, although she didn't really say anything. I could sort of see in her expressions that she wonders why some people get to have Hello Kitty rooms while she has a room that features a non-zero number of monkeys, several stuffed dinosaurs, and a giant plush polar bear that we use as a sort of beanbag chair even though it has sprung a leak and all the stuffing and little beady things are coming out, but she is polite enough to not mention it. (She does have both fairy princess AND cupcake sheets, though, so maybe she figures it all comes out in the wash.)

WANT. Shut up. I totally want that handbag. That handbag is the bee's knees and the cat's pajamas and all other sorts of idioms. It rocks, and I won't lie. In this regard, I am jealous of a three-year-old. But I am holding out hope that Santa will bring me the Swarovski version.

* Not that you asked, but since 2000, in order**: Kurt Warner; Ray Lewis; Tom Brady; Dexter Jackson; Tom Brady again; Deion Branch; Hines Ward and NOT Jerome Bettis; Peyton Manning; Eli Manning; Santonio Holmes and STILL NOT Jerome Bettis although he was retired at that point but that is no excuse to not go back and give it to him retroactively because COME ON; Drew Brees; and Aaron Rodgers. Also, that is TWELVE Super Bowl MVP's, so NEENER NEENER.


** Know who never won a Super Bowl MVP award***, even though the whole world just WILL.NOT.SHUT.UP. about him? Brett Favre.


*** But who really deserved one? Jerome Bettis. We miss you, Bus!

Grab Bag: Happy Birthday From The 2000 Phillies

This post is part of a sort of "blog hop" series that hope to contribute to semi-regularly -- The Grab Bag: Writing Prompts for Bogged-Down Bloggers. Of course, I don't normally have trouble coming up with something to write about as long as I have pictures, but when I don't ... well, that's the trouble. So I am really excited about having some kind of starting point, at least, for not-necessarily-kid-related blog posts, since I'm all out of pictures for the week (and anyway, I'm kind of getting tired of using them as a crutch {which of course I just originally typed as "crotch" because OF COURSE I DID, durr}). The "theme" for Week 1 is "Memorable Birthdays" (paraphrased, of course -- more details at the link). Feel free to join in, if you want; add a link to your post in the comments over on Dancing Lemur's blog, and then browse everyone else's contributions as they come aboard.

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We're not really birthday people in my family. I mean, we have birthdays, because everybody has birthdays, but we've never really been the sort to throw giant parties just because we could. We'd have family and a few friends over for cake and ice cream, and of course we got cards and gifts and flowers and special dinners and stuff, but birthdays have pretty much usually been low-key affairs.

When I graduated from college and got a full-time job, I started making a habit of taking a vacation day for my birthday. I mean really, who wants to get up at the ass-crack of dawn so they can go into a cube farm and forcibly socialize with people they don't like very much on their birthday, when they'd rather being doing literally anything else, including laundry? Not me.

The year I turned 26, my parents wanted to do something extra-special for my birthday, so they treated my husband and me to an afternoon Phillies game. The weather was gorgeous, as luckily it often is in this part of the country in early May, and that early in the baseball season, even the Vet was lovely. It was a businesspersons' special, an early afternoon game, so I basically got to spend the entire day with my three favorite people in the world (my husband and my parents, plus my sister and a couple of her friends from Princeton). My name appeared on the Phan-a-vision in giant letters, and I freaked out slightly because the entire City of Philadelphia saw how old I was, and I got a free cap, and an entire baseball stadium sang "Happy Birthday" to me and I got confetti thrown in my hair by total strangers.

It was, in a word, amazing.

Happy Birthday To My Hero

Today is my husband's birthday. He's 36. He'll probably get mad at me for saying that, but too bad. He wants to lie about his age, he can get his own damn blog.

Last night he stayed up until 4:00 am bailing water out of the basement so I didn't have to, because he is awesome that way. This video has nothing to do with anything, but it's cute. Just like he is.

Happy birthday, babe. I love you.

A Day (Plus A Week) Late

Last Wednesday, July 27th, was my brother-in-law's birthday. No, the other brother-in-law. I was supposed to get a cake for him the weekend before last, because I wanted to be able to post pictures on his actual birthday, but if you've been having the same kind of crazy-ass summer that I've been having, then you'll understand why it seems like absolutely diddly-squat is getting done on time.

But we did get a cake for him last weekend, and I was planning to put up pictures yesterday in honor of the first week-a-versary of his 29th birthday (I think he said he is 29; I don't even remember any more because I am having a pretty awful case of old-lady-brain lately, and I'm lucky I can even remember which kid is mine at the preschool most of the time), but see above paragraph re: the special insanity that is my life, and be glad that I remembered to put up pictures in the same calendar year.

And also be glad that we managed to avoid burning down my grandparents' house, because it was windy that day, and yet we insisted on having candles, and do you have any idea how flammable most of the small-child-related crap my sisters and I have to lug around all the time is? Thank God the pool was right there, in case we needed to put out any frosting and/or hair fires.

Why, yes, of course I took pictures of my kid eating the cake. What are you, new?

Everybody got into the cake-eating action, even the baby, and even though I believe birthday cake is technically verboten for babies before their first birthday, I personally endorse letting kids have at least a taste of cake every once in a while, because otherwise how do you know if they're going to like it? How am I supposed to form a loving, lasting relationship with someone who does not adore baked goods as I do, I ask you?

Oh, wait: that whole child-of-my-sister thing. Whatever, pedant.

Makayla had frosting put on her nose for pictures - I did that, even though I not-so-secretly actually want to pose her with a Marlboro and a Zippo and recreate the bestest picture in all the history of the lands and the seas and the Internets - and so of course SOMEBODY ELSE needed to do the same thing. Shae is generally very good with other kids, especially with my niece and nephew (she calls them her "sister-cousin" and her "brother-cousin," respectively, which is just so many kinds of adorable that there aren't even words, even though if you think about it long enough you start pondering "sister-wives" and then things go down a rabbit hole from which there might possibly be no escape save from going outside or something, getting some fresh air for a little while, not that I encourage that sort of behavior, because it's just entirely too wholesome), but even though she usually flatly refuses to look at the camera when I am trying to take pictures of her, if she notices that I am pointing the camera at anyone else, she tends to become a bit of a show-off, as older siblings and cousins are wont to do. (I myself was guilty of this from 1977 through approximately 1990, inclusive.)

And of course when I end up getting a picture like this one out of it, I can't exactly start discouraging that sort of behavior, now can I?, or else ... well, I will no longer get pictures like this one. Which would be a damned shame, because this is one of the best pictures of her that I've taken all summer. I am particularly fond of the lighting here, and the way her hair just is.

Anyway ... happy birthday to my brother-in-law, a week and day after your birthday. Better late than never, though, right? (And hey: I remembered that orange is one of your favorite colors and picked out this cake instead of the one with pink balloons, so I think I ended up doing alright. If you disagree, be polite and lie about it, okay?)

Moon Over Parma

So ... apparently my kid likes bowling.

One of her school friends (her "boyfriend," the one who is "already in [her] soul," and believe me, I have NO IDEA where kids pick this stuff up) had a bowling party for his 4th birthday. Can you imagine a dozen or so four-year-olds throwing 6-lb. and 8-lb. bowling balls around? Yeah, I couldn't either, until I saw it for myself.

Bowling balls are bouncier than I remember, but then again, I don't make a habit of dropping them directly on the floor. Also, it's a lot noisier than I might have expected. Don't ask me why I thought there would be any degree of quietude at a 4-year-old's bowling birthday party; birthday parties are loud enough to begin with. Heck, 4-year-olds are loud enough to begin with.

But anyway, Shae really enjoyed flinging the balls around. For kids' parties, at least for kids this age, they set up this cute little ramp-thing so that they don't have to try to actually get the ball to the end of the alley without accidentally dislocating a shoulder or breaking any fingers or toes. Plus, this way, every once in a while someone would accidentally magically roll a strike.

The only thing cuter than a 4-year-old in a gingham dress and bowling shoes -- I love me some bowling shoes, and I always have to stop myself from stealing them when I leave the alley -- is a 4-year-old in a gingham dress and bowling shoes jumping up and down out of her mind with glee because she just made a spare. Even though she has no idea what in the holy hamhock a "spare" is, or how hard is it to make a 7-10 split when the ball is moving at the speed of a live-action slow-motion replay.

And this? Is my contractually-obligated snap of my kid eating a birthday cupcake. Hey, it was a birthday party -- you KNEW there would be cupcakes.

Happy Birthday Pop-pop!

We interrupt our riveting and action-packed Disneyland coverage (which will go on for longer than the trip did, AS USUAL) for this important Special Public Service Announcement:

Keep calm and carry on. (And better late than never.) (And yes, that is Shae, not Joey, not that you can necessarily tell the difference on "Happy Birthday," but you should hear this kid sing Adele or Cee-Lo.)

Party People In The House

If you had told me four years ago that I would ever unironically fall in love with a possibly toxic neon-colored Hello Kitty birthday cake, that in fact it would turn out to be my favorite part of a pretty gosh-darned kick-ass kiddie party, I would have laughed right in your face.

But here we are. Just goes to show you what becoming a parent will do to you, I suppose.

And if, at the same time, you would have told me that I there would come a day when a child would be more excited about eating fistfuls of cheddar cheese popcorn and running around outside than she would be about opening presents at her own birthday party, I would have probably checked you for dengue fever or something.

But, again, here we are. We pretty much had to pull Shae into the house by her hair to get her to open her gifts. One of those rare, exciting opportunities to tear the ever-living snot out of some brightly-colored paper ON PURPOSE, and she wanted to be out in my parents' yard blowing bubbles with her friends.

At least she found SOME reason to get excited. Sunglasses apparently figure prominently in her happy place. I was a little bit disappointed at her reaction to the stuff we gave her -- a stuffed Perry the Platypus and a stuffed Stich, Hello Kitty jellybeans and a gummy dinosaur, a "princess plant" (which I think is actually some kind of orchid or something), and the pièce de résistance ...

... a sparkly, princessy pair of authentic Mouse ears for our upcoming trip to Disneyland -- these things apparently did not do much for her in the moment. She was far more stoked about her new beach towel, and her Belle fashion doll, and this little Nerf-like water cannon thing with a rubber duckie on the handle. Oh, and her new Phillies shirt. All these things, apparently, were much more thrilling than the stuff we got her that she actually asked for.

But my favorite part, aside from seeing all those friends and family members having a good time and spending the better part of an afternoon listening to the sweet sound of the unbridled laughter of about a dozen small children, was definitely the Hello Kitty birthday cake. I mean, MY GOD, it LIT UP. How cool is that? (Plus: that is QUALITY BUTTERCREAM FROSTING, y'all. Artificial colors AND real live honest-to-God sugar. YES PLEASE.)

Let Them Eat Cupcakes

So we survived Shae's birthday party. Not even barely survived, but actually survived completely unscathed. So that's awesome. Of course, I don't have the pictures yet, because I haven't offloaded them from my camera, but if it makes you feel any better, that's partly because we spent like 3 hours yesterday looking for gifts that were in our house less than 24 hours before they went missing. Constant excitement!

Before my sister and nephew went back to Chicago, we had a small impromptu party, because what is cuter than small children singing "Happy Birthday" to each other at the top of their lungs? Nothing, that's what.

Okay, nothing except watching them eat cupcakes. That's pretty darned cute.

Okay, nothing except watching them eat cupcakes with icing all over their faces. That's pretty darned cute, too.

Tomorrow I will have pictures of the "real" party, pinky swear. Including THE LIGHT-UP HELLO KITTY CAKE TOPPER OMG SQUEE. No, I am not kidding. It was AMAZING.