Birthday Party Recap: Pukefests, Cleaning Frenzies, and the Best Cake Ever

For Bubba’s first birthday, I didn’t bother throwing a party. It’s not like he had any friends to celebrate with (he didn’t start daycare until a couple months later), and since he obviously wasn’t going to know the difference, I figured I’d just save myself the hassle. This year I decided to act like a Good Mother and held a full-on party complete with a bounce house and actual guests who were not related to me, and I’m eternally thankful for the prescience (AKA laziness) that allowed me to skip out on last year’s party. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but planning and hosting a birthday party — even a casual one for a toddler — is HARD WORK! All throughout the process I just kept thinking, “people do this every year? HOW, AND WHY!?” By the end of the day, I was ready for a bottle of wine and a weeklong vacation, and vowed to wait at least five years before giving another party.

When I started planning the party (nearly a MONTH in advance, by the way; I fully thought I was the best mom ever for starting so early, then quickly learned that I had apparently started too late), I naively assumed it’d be fairly simple. We’d arrange for a bounce house or something, order some pizzas, invite my family and the daycare kids, and there ya go: party!

False.

First of all, it took me no fewer than 15 calls and 25 emails to find a freakin’ bounce house rental place. Actually, that’s not accurate. I had no problem finding websites and Craigslist listings advertising the rental of said bounce houses, but apparently this is an industry run exclusively by people who don’t speak English and 13-year-olds who learned web design in 1996, because just trying to get pricing and availability information from these companies was like pulling teeth. I nearly wept with joy when I finally received a reply to one of my countless emails and immediately made a reservation, then spent the next four weeks praying they would show up (spoiler: they did!).

With the entertainment vaguely secured, I put together my guest list and started working on invitations. This part was actually fairly easy, because I stole the template from one friend and then forced another friend to edit it to my specifications. It came out beautifully, if I do say so myself:

Once the invitations were out, I started a “party prep to-do list.” This is the point at which I realized that I was in over my head. A party needs decorations! And you’ve gotta have goody bags! What about food?! And wait, will a bounce house be enough entertainment? Do I need a clown or something? (Don’t worry, I didn’t get a clown.) I better arrange for the dog to go to doggie daycare, because she’s kind of a feral beast and might mistake a smile child for a squirrel and try to eat it alive. Oh yeah, I have to make a cake! And it has to be the best cake ever, because I’ve made some pretty sweet cakes (no pun intended) for other people and this is for my son, so it must surpass all others. AND OH MY GOD ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE GONNA BE IN MY HOUSE AND I’VE GOTTA CLEAN THE WHOLE DAMN THING FROM TOP TO BOTTOM!

I did as much as I could in the weeks before the party, but obviously most tasks had to be saved for the days immediately preceding the big event (I ain’t mopping if guests aren’t a-knockin’). So I created a master schedule for the three days before the party and filled every waking minute with cleaning, baking, and setup tasks. My schedule was packed, but I was confident that I could get everything done. I was ready to be the Party Queen!

And then on Thanksgiving night, when my schedule said I was supposed to be tinting fondant and making buttercream icing for the cake, I got hit with The Plague (I can only assume). Puking commenced suddenly and violently. So much puke. I was laid up for 24 hours as the party loomed ever nearer, unable to cross a single item off my to-do list.

Panic ensued. Who’s going to clean my house? (Certainly not my husband, who once looked at a stove literally covered in spilled food and told me, with a straight face and Kenneth Parcell-level sincerity, that he didn’t see anything wrong.) What about my cake?! And those Party City paper dump truck centerpieces aren’t going to fold themselves!

Thankfully, I rallied the next day and cleaned for about 12 straight hours, then got to work on the cake. I decided that aesthetics were more important than quality or taste and used Betty Crocker mixes instead of baking from scratch so I could focus my energies on the decorating instead, something I haven’t done before but will likely always do in the future (no one cares about the taste when they’re looking at a masterpiece of cake design, right??). By Sunday morning, the cake was complete, the house was the cleanest it’s been since Bubba’s birth (sadly not an exaggeration), the goody bags were full of leftover Halloween candy (true story) and fine treasures from Target’s dollar section, and my yard was decked out with construction-themed nonsense. The sketchy bounce house shockingly arrived on time (and stayed upright the entire party, even more shockingly), my parents kindly picked up the food on their way over, and then the guests arrived!

PARTY TIME!

Bounce house arrived at 8:45am. This photo was taken at approximately 8:45 and 15 seconds. He was…excited.

I wasn’t kidding about the paper dump truck centerpieces.

I made my poor sister be a face painter. I think she should quit her day job, as this is clearly her true talent in life!

I’m no party-planner or professional decorator, but I think a wagon full of beverages is just more construction-y than a cooler.

These three ate ice out of the wagon for TWENTY MINUTES. Um…bounce house? Face paint?

Just bragging that I have friends (real cool ones, too!).

THE CAKE. 

My finest work yet. Set the bar too high for future birthdays, unfortunately.

Success.

I’m exhausted. And now I see why people hold parties at Chuck E. Cheese!

Marathon Report: The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Alert, alert! Newsflash! Breaking news! Urgent bulletin! I ran that freakin’ marathon yesterday.

Which means you’ll no longer have to hear me talking about it!

Well, after this one final post about it. Aren’t you eager to hear how it all went down!? (No? Too bad; my blog, my rules.)

The good:

• I didn’t die!
• I also didn’t get lost on the way there, trip in a pothole at the starting line, lose my timing chip, forget my headphones, or any of the hundred other stupid hypothetical logistical nightmares I spent the previous week obsessing over.
• I didn’t get injured! I’m terribly sore today, but I didn’t incur any actual injuries like a busted knee or sprained ankle or even a blister!
• The weather was perfect for running — cloudy, so no sunburn issues, but not rainy or windy or humid.
• I kept my pace throughout most of the race…I was on pace for my (very modest) goal time all the way through mile 20, when the course changed — miles 20-23 were virtually all uphill! WHY WOULD THEY PLAN THE COURSE THAT WAY?! It was rough and I probably lost 15 minutes on my pace just from those three miles; I could barely run a quarter mile during that stretch. But I’m still proud of myself for maintaining my pace even that far into the race. To be completely honest, I kind of assumed I’d tucker out a lot earlier and totally blow it!
• Did I mention that I did NOT die?

The bad:

• I had to wake up at 3:20am! I’m not sure where you live, but where I come from, that’s known as “the middle of the goddamn night.”
• I missed my goal time by 18 minutes. This was due to the aforementioned literal uphill battle and also due to a SIX MINUTE porta-potty line at mile 5 that I had no choice but to stand in; I had guzzled so much water before the race that by mile 5 my bladder was on the verge or bursting. I am not hardcore enough to pee my pants for the sake of keeping the pace.
• I am very, very hobbled today. Soreness everywhere.

The ugly:

• I grossly underestimated my fuel needs. I ate breakfast a couple hours beforehand and had 3 Gu packets along the way, but by about mile 18 I was out of Gu and so hungry I would have gladly flashed my boobs at someone in exchange for a tiny crumb of a protein bar. I started playing a game in my head: how much money would I pay for food right now? If you’re curious, I decided $1 sounded reasonable for a single Vons-brand pretzel (even unsalted!), $10 would be a good deal for a Snickers bar, and a bagel with cream cheese would have easily been worth $20.
• It was seriously hard. I can’t say I recommend it. I would say “never again,” but I have to admit that I’m tempted to try again in a few months with more food and a flatter course and see if I could beat my time!

Please note the banana and two mini bagels I grabbed IMMEDIATELY upon crossing the finish line; I was so excited about those that I nearly forgot to get my medal. PRIORITIES.

Weekend Wrap-up: Sore Neck Tube Edition

After working from home for 4.5 years, I’ve noticed a few changes in myself:

1. I have convinced myself that wearing jeans every day and never putting on makeup or doing my hair is 100% acceptable (I’ve also convinced myself that TFW totally prefers me this way; please don’t burst my bubble)
2. I have ZERO patience for traffic since I rarely drive, and driving anywhere further than two miles away feels like it takes FOREVER.
3. I never get sick.

The first two are somewhat unfortunate side effects of an overall excellent situation, but that third one is FANTASTIC. As it turns out, completely avoiding human contact save for the occasional trip to Target will do wonders for your health! In 4.5 years, I have not contracted a single serious cold/flu/virus/infection. I’ve had a few run of the mill colds, but nothing that lasted more than a day or so and certainly nothing that required medical care beyond the magic of DayQuil.

So when the baby spent all of last week coughing and sniffling, it never crossed my mind that said sickness could possibly find its way into my pure and seemingly invincible bloodstream. I was wiping his boogers off with my hands (I’ll wait here while you go vomit…ok, back? carry on) and kissing his sick little face like it was going out of style all week, with nary a passing thought to the fact that I too could wind up sick.

And then Friday afternoon rolled around…

Work Trip Wrap-Up: Cold Snap!

I’m back!

I survived! And so did the baby!

My first work trip since becoming a mother has come and gone, and we all lived to tell the tale. I’m sure you’re all dying to know how many times I checked in on Mr. Mom and how many times the baby got bathed (spoiler alert: zero, obv), so let’s dive into the by-the-numbers wrap-up!

56: total number of hours I was gone

23093890234: approximate number of text messages I sent to TFW and the babysitter during the first 24 hours alone (the consensus, if you’re wondering, was that the baby was fine and apparently did not miss me in the slightest)

3: number of rowdy Chicago Bears fans seated in the row ahead of me on the flight to Chicago Sunday evening

12: level of said Bears fans’ excitement, on a scale of 1-10, when they determined that they were able to watch the Bears game during the flight (thanks for that, Virgin America and Dish Network)

0: level of said Bears fans’ understanding, on a scale of 1-10, that they were on an airplane and NOT A ROWDY SPORTS BAR (shouting! clapping! cheering! high-fiving! booing! cursing the players, refs, coaches, and announcers!)

123980231809132890: exact number of times (I counted) I had to physically restrain myself from reaching around and punching said Bears fans in their respective mouths in hopes of shutting them up

12: level of difficulty, on a scale of 1-10, I had containing my laughter when the Bears lost the game and finally silenced those SOBs

30: temperature in Chicago when I landed

20: temperature the next morning when I left the hotel for work

5: number of layers I wore…just on my upper half (long-sleeved shirt, sweater, denim jacket, then some other jacket whose style I can’t even identify since I have never had a need for a winter coat before [I purchased it at Target 24 hours before I left when I realized that I owned virtually nothing remotely appropriate for actual cold weather], and finally a scarf)

600: number of times I commented on the weather to my poor coworkers over the course of two days. I’m sorry! But guys, IT SNOWED:

80: high temp back in LA

0: number of times I anticipated worrying about the weather back at home. Why would I, right? Wait for it….

53: temperature in the baby’s room on Tuesday morning (the baby monitor reports the temperature). I found this out via the following text message exchange with my dear husband:

TFW: Good morning 🙂 Heater wouldn’t work all night, poor guy. Was 53 in his room this morning 😦 He’s OK though.

(note: in case you’ve forgotten, our house has climate control issues)

Me: Poor kid! You shouldn’t have told me that!!!

TFW: He didn’t seem to mind, slept through the night just fine!

Me: yes, I’m sure he did, since he was IN A HYPOTHERMIC COMA

23482393: number of subsequent texts messages I sent “gently insisting” that he figure out the damn heater before I got home or the baby would be sleeping in our room with me while TFW endured the icy tundra in Bubba’s crib

5: number of photos of a sweatshirt-clad Bubba TFW texted me in attempts to prove that he had taken appropriate measures to warm the kid up and that he really was a-ok despite having spent the night in a freezer:

75: temperature in the baby’s room right now (TFW fixed the heater and was allowed to sleep in our bed after all)

0: baths the baby received while I was gone. But TFW assured me that he did remember to wipe the kid’s hands off a few times, and by the time I got home I was just glad that neither the baby nor I had succumbed to our icy environments, so…we’ll call it a win.

12: my level of excitement, on a scale of 1-10, to be back home with my boys last night!

Yes, ’twas quite an adventure — for both me and the adorably clueless dudes I left behind. I arrived home exhausted to a messy house and a stinky baby, but I’m proud of all of us for surviving a few days apart!

Next time, though, I’ll schedule the trip for a warmer time of year.

Weekend Wrap-Up: Productivity Queen

As a “mommy blogger,” I consider it my duty to religiously follow no fewer than one zillion other blogs. Most of the time, my blog obsession results in little more than fits of jealousy as I bemoan the superior popularity of every other blog on the planet (how do you do it?!? Who do I need to bribe?) and drool over all the cool site designs I am too lazy/untalented to implement on this hunk of junk, but every once in a while I glean some serious inspiration from my fellow bloggers.

On Friday, I happened upon a blog written by an insane person. Well, technically speaking, she’s not insane — just one of those maddening domestic goddesses that cooks literally everything from scratch (SHE HAS GOATS AND MILKS THEM DAILY, YOU GUYS) and makes all kinds of awesome crafts (SHE HAS A VINYL MACHINE THINGY, YOU GUYS) and lives super frugally and has a gorgeous house and essentially is everything I wish I could be in terms of homemaking.

Needless to say, my jealousy was through the roof.

But! So was my inspiration! If this woman can make all-natural homemade pop-tarts out of spelt flour (which I had never even heard of but apparently is some sort of even-better-for-you alternative to whole wheat), surely I can take five minutes to fold the clean laundry that’s been rotting in the basket for a week, right?

RIGHT!

And fold that laundry I did. AND SO MUCH MORE! Fasten your seat belts and be prepared to be jealous of ME (unless you are the type of person who makes your own organic soap, in which case, prepare to laugh at my embarrassing attempt to be like you) because I was EXTREMELY PRODUCTIVE this this weekend. Let’s break it down:

Weekend Wrap-Up: Hotter Than Hell Edition

First, let me hit you with some cold hard facts:

• It is the end of September
• It is thus technically FALL
• It was 95 degrees both Saturday and Sunday
• …outside. Inside my house it was at least 300 degrees
• I am sick of this weather

Due to these truths, my weekend was perhaps not quite as exciting as one might wish; I spent most of it complaining about being sweaty and thinking longingly about the fall clothing I purchased a couple weeks ago that I have not yet been able to wear. I was already planning on writing a wrap-up post today, though, so…onward to the by-the-numbers recap of one incredibly dull and hot weekend!