Kim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grammarwoman) wrote2007-10-29 11:43 am
grammarwoman) wrote2007-10-29 11:43 am
Weekend update
This past weekend we celebrated the Emperor’s third birthday. (And can I just say, HOLY CRAP! Where did those years go? I know that I lost at least one year to sleep deprivation, but *geesh*!) Because I fail at basic mothering skills like planning and scheduling, we barely got phone invites out to our immediate families. Luckily, both sets of grandparents could make it, but alas! None of our sibs could. I stayed home Friday to clean and prep; I also caught up on some quality couch-sitting-and-reading time. It was a great mix. I should have gotten more chores done, as Saturday morning was a bit hectic, but the necessary deeds were covered. My parents OF COURSE showed up early, because that’s what they do, but my mom restrained herself to one snarky comment about the obvious evidence of my recent shower, with nothing about how I was still doing food prep. (In my family, everything is done ahead of time; all food should be ready to whisk into the oven or heated up on the stove, so the host can chat with the guests. This would be why I bought a house with an open kitchen, because that will never be me.)
The birthday party went fairly smoothly. [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] had to cancel due to scheduling snafus, but [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] ably represented both the C-U crowd and the IMSA contingent. (Thank goodness they were there, too, as they were an excellent buffer between the in-laws. My folks are liberal suburban retirees; my husband’s parents are conservative central Illinois farmers. My dad is a gregarious, outgoing metrosexual; my FIL, not so much. It can occasionally be, um, awkward.) The Emperor, as is his wont, slept late in his nappitude and had to be awoken by his father. This meant that he came downstairs to a house full of people, and went into quiet-and-cling-to-Mom mode. (Not that I minded, much, because I treasure my snuggles where I can get them.) He warmed up to the crowd gradually, and by the time we opened presents, he was his usual charming self. He was such the stereotypical kid, too; as soon as he opened a toy, he wanted to stop and play with it instead of going on to the next present. He practically rolled his eyes at the boxes of clothes (that’s grandparents for you) and went back to the toys. He got some train tracks for his “Thomas the Tank Engine” trains (which immediately had to be opened and set up), a cool “Melissa and Doug” pizza set from [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], a Little Einsteins music maker from the in-laws, several books, and the aforementioned clothes.
Dinner went well; I made Alton Brown’s tomato sauce (a LOT of work, but very tasty) to go with the Emperor’s second-favorite meal, turtle noodles (aka tortellini), plus salad, green beans, the remains of [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]’s zesty cheese bread, and cupcakes for dessert. The Emperor, after several practice runs with Grandma, was able to blow out all three candles. He’s so awesome.
Afterwards, we sat down for some more chatting while the Emperor alternately hung out at the piano with [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (belated thanks for that!) and my dad. At one point, when they had both escaped back into the adult conversation, the Emperor came over and, taking each one by the hand (completely ignoring me and his dad, mind you, because we obviously suck), dragged them back into his play lair. Eventually, everyone left but my folks (as they were staying overnight), and Grandpa had to be reminded that little boys had to sleep sometime soon. (He is NOTORIOUS for winding up the grandkids right before handing them off for a quieter activity, like dinner or bed.) As it was, the Emperor wasn’t installed in his crib until a good hour and half after his usual bedtime, and it took him the same amount of time to fall asleep, with several call-ups. (The best was a “Mommy, come here!” that resulted in him scolding me “I heard you laughing, Mommy!” “Are we being too loud?” “YES!”. Then as I went back downstairs, my husband overheard on the monitor “Tell Grandma and Grandpa to be quiet!”) We got caught up on the latest family events, like my precocious niece’s efforts to get a new American Girl doll for her birthday. She already has seven (!), and upon being told that that was more than enough, built a Power Point presentation on why she desperately needed this new one, including poem entitled “Ode to My Birthday Buddy”. Did I mention the girl is 11? I couldn’t be prouder of her manipulative genius.
Sunday was the usual morning rumpus. We got my parents packed off by early afternoon, and after another heroic nap on the Emperor’s part, we were visited by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and their just-turned-one son S. The Emperor had to be reminded several times about being gentle with a baby around, but he did really well. S was equally enthralled with the Emperor and our dog, who insisted on licking S in the face every chance she got. We haven’t had a chance to hang out for a couple of months, so it was a lovely chance to catch up. Plus, the Emperor got more “Thomas” loot. Good times all around.
The birthday party went fairly smoothly. [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] had to cancel due to scheduling snafus, but [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] ably represented both the C-U crowd and the IMSA contingent. (Thank goodness they were there, too, as they were an excellent buffer between the in-laws. My folks are liberal suburban retirees; my husband’s parents are conservative central Illinois farmers. My dad is a gregarious, outgoing metrosexual; my FIL, not so much. It can occasionally be, um, awkward.) The Emperor, as is his wont, slept late in his nappitude and had to be awoken by his father. This meant that he came downstairs to a house full of people, and went into quiet-and-cling-to-Mom mode. (Not that I minded, much, because I treasure my snuggles where I can get them.) He warmed up to the crowd gradually, and by the time we opened presents, he was his usual charming self. He was such the stereotypical kid, too; as soon as he opened a toy, he wanted to stop and play with it instead of going on to the next present. He practically rolled his eyes at the boxes of clothes (that’s grandparents for you) and went back to the toys. He got some train tracks for his “Thomas the Tank Engine” trains (which immediately had to be opened and set up), a cool “Melissa and Doug” pizza set from [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], a Little Einsteins music maker from the in-laws, several books, and the aforementioned clothes.
Dinner went well; I made Alton Brown’s tomato sauce (a LOT of work, but very tasty) to go with the Emperor’s second-favorite meal, turtle noodles (aka tortellini), plus salad, green beans, the remains of [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]’s zesty cheese bread, and cupcakes for dessert. The Emperor, after several practice runs with Grandma, was able to blow out all three candles. He’s so awesome.
Afterwards, we sat down for some more chatting while the Emperor alternately hung out at the piano with [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] (belated thanks for that!) and my dad. At one point, when they had both escaped back into the adult conversation, the Emperor came over and, taking each one by the hand (completely ignoring me and his dad, mind you, because we obviously suck), dragged them back into his play lair. Eventually, everyone left but my folks (as they were staying overnight), and Grandpa had to be reminded that little boys had to sleep sometime soon. (He is NOTORIOUS for winding up the grandkids right before handing them off for a quieter activity, like dinner or bed.) As it was, the Emperor wasn’t installed in his crib until a good hour and half after his usual bedtime, and it took him the same amount of time to fall asleep, with several call-ups. (The best was a “Mommy, come here!” that resulted in him scolding me “I heard you laughing, Mommy!” “Are we being too loud?” “YES!”. Then as I went back downstairs, my husband overheard on the monitor “Tell Grandma and Grandpa to be quiet!”) We got caught up on the latest family events, like my precocious niece’s efforts to get a new American Girl doll for her birthday. She already has seven (!), and upon being told that that was more than enough, built a Power Point presentation on why she desperately needed this new one, including poem entitled “Ode to My Birthday Buddy”. Did I mention the girl is 11? I couldn’t be prouder of her manipulative genius.
Sunday was the usual morning rumpus. We got my parents packed off by early afternoon, and after another heroic nap on the Emperor’s part, we were visited by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and their just-turned-one son S. The Emperor had to be reminded several times about being gentle with a baby around, but he did really well. S was equally enthralled with the Emperor and our dog, who insisted on licking S in the face every chance she got. We haven’t had a chance to hang out for a couple of months, so it was a lovely chance to catch up. Plus, the Emperor got more “Thomas” loot. Good times all around.
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Hee! I had this kind of thought about three days ago. I was looking through the photo albums, and I saw pictures of my P at 15-18 months. When he was 18 months old I was 8 months pregnant. And he was so, so beautiful -- one of the most beautiful little boys I've ever seen (of course I'm not biased) -- but I don't remember what he was like then. I was too busy moving (again) and being pregnant and tired and just stressed out in general, and now I can't remember what he was like then. It made me kind of melancholy. What else am I going to forget? Will I remember them at this age when they're adults?
Anyway, that was a whole lot of babble about me.
You're parents sound like a lot of emotional work. I'm glad it went okay. And don't feel bad, there are FAR worse organizers than you. (Only one of my children has ever had a birthday party with other little kids... ONCE.)
Also: Thomas and Little Einsteins. Hee. Add in some Veggie Tales and that's our kid DVD collection right there.
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I have this fear all the time; considering that I've failed utterly to keep up his baby book, I'm hoping my posts here will help fill in some of the gaps.
(Only one of my children has ever had a birthday party with other little kids... ONCE.)
I can't tell you how much better that makes me feel. Seriously. The thought of riding herd on a crowd of kids his age? *shudder*
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Also, I'm totally wishing I could edit that "you're." DAMN NO EDIT.
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You suppose they'll ever offer that feature? 'Cuz yeah, I've had that "post, then notice glaring error, *sigh*" sequence of events before. Silly LJ.