I've been in the biggest thinking funk lately (don't say that three times fast- it could get messy). I think after last week's whirlwind to get my house in order for Ikey's birthday party (and no, I still haven't even gone through the pictures of that yet. See above sentence re: funk) I just crashed. In all honesty that's what I always do after big events. I love the rush of the preparation and immerse myself in that. But when it's all over, it's just me left with my thoughts and a big to-do list. For me, nothing is more crummy than a to-do list and no deadline. It'll just never get done.
So the party went great and I'll eventually share photographic evidence of it. We had lots of friends over and I learned the magic key to a stress-free day. Are you ready? Decorating the night before.
I was so hung up about not being able to afford a helium tank this year, that I pitied myself when I thought of "settling" for regular ol' balloons. Little did I know that hanging up balloons on the wall was going to look way better and give me oh-so much less grief. Big Hunk and I stayed up till 2am the night before the party blowing up balloons (hint #2- use an electric pump!) and tossing them anywhere we could find wall space. I cannot even tell you the relief I felt waking up the next morning, knowing I didn't have to worry about decorating.
Summer is always the time of the Great Birthday Hunt. Next up? Mikey. He'll be 7 on July 28th. Sheesh. I'm sorry, but wasn't I just pregnant with him?? When did he become a mini-person that loses teeth and likes watching sports and teaches his, ahem, mom how to do the scorebook for Daddy's baseball games? (Side note there. Do men do anything efficiently? Because really. A runner getting out at 1st base makes NO sense as a "3U". You're just asking for mistakes.) Seriously. I keep telling these darn kids to stop growing and they always fill my head with empty promises, but they never keep their word. That's got to be in the Bible somewhere.
3 days after Mikey's birthday is my oldest stepson's birthday. He'll be 20. (Enter gasp here. He was 6 when I met him.) But we have found that with his absolute rebellion against every ounce of love we've ever given and practically disowning us, also comes a cheaper July 31st. ;) I call it a silver lining.
And then, about 3 weeks later we have Cracker Jack's 18th birthday. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me that I do not have to look at these young men and say I gave birth to them. Because honestly? I feel old enough most of the time. But no matter how old I get, I will always be too young to be their mother and that makes me giddy. Not that anyone ever doubts that I am their mother anymore. And I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing.
I remember when BH & I had been dating/living in sin a short while and I took the boys (then 7 & 5) to the bank with me. Someone stopped me and asked if I was the babysitter, or something to that effect. I laughed, but secretly wished that I did look old enough to be their mom. Because I wanted nothing more.
But now vanity has taken over and I am totally fine looking like the step-mom. Not that I do. Olay, why have you failed me?
Although it is totally unfair that at