Mermaid Cookies & Under the Sea Fun
Tonight I'm taking my Mom out for dinner and a movie, but I didn't want another post to go by without sharing Lil C's birthday with you.
I imagine it must be difficult to visualize airplane cookies turning into mermaids, but I swear they did. Here's the photographic evidence.
Here's some of the food. The fruit kabobs were a big hit.
Here's the starfish bread bowl I made for the crab dip.
Here's the other one. . .
Here's one of the kid activities. They made "under the sea" things to hang on their bedroom doors.
This was a game for the Mer-Dads. They had to eat all the Swedish Fish on their plate and they just happened to be under a huge pile of whipped cream. No hands allowed. They were such good sports.
Mr. BBM was a good sport. The man can eat whipped cream like no one's business. He barely even got messy.
Here are all the good sports.
Of course, the kids needed a turn too.
Here's the awesome Ariel cake.
And the birthday girl. . .
Here are some of the under the sea decorations.
More pics of the camel ride on her actual birthday to come!
Mermaid Cookies & Under the Sea Fun
Tonight I'm taking my Mom out for dinner and a movie, but I didn't want another post to go by without sharing Lil C's birthday with you.
I imagine it must be difficult to visualize airplane cookies turning into mermaids, but I swear they did. Here's the photographic evidence.
Here's some of the food. The fruit kabobs were a big hit.
Here's the starfish bread bowl I made for the crab dip.
Here's the other one. . .
Here's one of the kid activities. They made "under the sea" things to hang on their bedroom doors.
This was a game for the Mer-Dads. They had to eat all the Swedish Fish on their plate and they just happened to be under a huge pile of whipped cream. No hands allowed. They were such good sports.
Mr. BBM was a good sport. The man can eat whipped cream like no one's business. He barely even got messy.
Here are all the good sports.
Of course, the kids needed a turn too.
Here's the awesome Ariel cake.
And the birthday girl. . .
Here are some of the under the sea decorations.
More pics of the camel ride on her actual birthday to come!
On Closing That Door
Filed under: Growing Pains, Mental Strain for Mama
When you have a plan in your head of what your life is going to be like, it's sometimes difficult when things don't turn out quite like you had planned. At one point in my life, I wanted to be a lawyer. I thought, at the time, that I was too busy for kids. My husband would be the stay-at-home parent and I would be the bread-winner. When my political science class didn't go as planned, I trashed that plan and only occasionally look back and wish I had that law degree. I'd never wish not to stay home with my kids though. That change to plans is one I don't ever question.
When Mr. BBM and I started our family, I set out with the intention of having three children. I didn't care if they were girls or boys. I just wanted three. Mr. BBM is one of three children and I loved the feeling of an extra sibling in the house. I grew up with just me and my sister.
But when I was a couple months pregnant with Lil C, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Suddenly I was regretting my decision to even have a second child. For some people, gestational diabetes isn't a big deal, but for me, I knew it could be potentially devastating.
When my Mom was pregnant with her second child, she got gestational diabetes too. Hers, however, did not go away. My Mom is a Type 1 diabetic with an insulin pump and has been for the past 30 years. Growing up, I would come home to find her unconscious sometimes, having gone into insulin shock from a very low blood sugar. She was in a serious car accident one time from another low blood sugar. The life of insulin shots and constant blood sugar monitoring was not one I wanted.
I spent my entire pregnancy fluctuating between being excited about the baby and just wanting the baby out so I could (hopefully) stop being a diabetic. Thankfully, my diabetes went away after pregnancy. I felt like I was granted a reprieve and so did my Mom.
My plans to have a third were shattered. Taking the chance of the gestational diabetes coming back and staying seemed too great. Did I really want to subject my kids to some of the things I dealt with growing up? The answer was a definite "no." My Mom, an RN, felt the same. "Don't take that chance. Don't do it" she's told me on more than one occasion.
So with plans for a third gone, the question of why I was keeping all this baby stuff kept coming up. I have a basement full of beautiful baby clothes and bassinets. Things I won't use again, but I can't seem to part with. Mr. BBM doesn't get it and just wants the stuff gone. For me, each little piece of clothing holds so many memories. They are physical pieces of my children's baby years that seem to bring me closer to that time in my life when I had a baby on my hip. Maybe it's because Mr. BBM has always worked full time and he wasn't here nearly as much as I was with them. But no matter what he thinks or feels about it, it's difficult for me to say "I'm done" and get rid of the things that represent a time I so loved.
I don't know what made me do it today, a week before Lil C turns four, I guess it was because I know she'll be getting some new clothes for her birthday and I needed to make room. Cleaning out the things from her closet that she wore in the past year didn't seem so hard. I kept a couple items that were her favorites (or mine) and put the rest in bags for her friends. She was happy to help me. I figured since that had gone so well, I'd go through some 12-18 month stuff for my neighbor, a little girl I adore.
While going through the containers, I had the hardest time. I had to keep stopping and taking a deep breath. I'd put something on the pile to give away and then decide I just couldn't do it. It was the closest thing to torture I think I've ever experienced. I did it though, and made my way through the three containers. I parted with about 40% of it and that was a huge accomplishment for me.
Because I knew that if it stayed here for one more minute, it wasn't going to happen, I immediately went down the street to deliver it. It was when my friend looked kindly at me and said, "Are you sure?" that I lost it.
I have two healthy children and came out of a scary pregnancy unscathed, but wanting another little person in your house and not being able to have it is devastating emotionally. During the day to day, when you can occupy yourself with other things, it's not a problem. But when you force yourself to go through these things and get rid of what represents what you wanted your family to be and it won't be. . . When you're taking steps that say you've accepted that you're finished with that part of your life. . . it's just really, really, hard.
Miles Behind: The Pressure We Put on Kids
Filed under: Growing Pains, Mental Strain for Mama
I don't talk about it often, because it's a huge embarrassment to me. When I was a Junior in high school, I hoped for a permanent spot on the Varsity field hockey team, but I didn't get it. Instead I got tons of time playing on JV where I worked hard and did a great job, but literally only seconds during many Varsity games. Sometimes those seconds came during the last 30 seconds of the game, as my coach looked back, realized she hadn't played me at all, and would throw me in for an embarrassing stint that made no sense. I think I would have preferred not to play at all.
I worked hard at field hockey, playing on weekends in my back yard and inviting my friend over to hit around with me. I wasn't the best player on the team, but I wasn't horrible either. I showed up to every practice and busted my butt, even when I really wanted to just go home and deal with an upset stomach or a super runny nose. Even when sick, I would be there.
Sometimes I think that if my parents had been at more of my games, I would have seen more playing time. But my Dad had a busy schedule at work and we rarely saw him before 6 p.m. at home each week night. My Mom was busy working too, and running my sister around to her activities. They came sometimes, but they weren't the vocal parents on the sidelines that you see today. They blended into the background, kind of the way I obviously did on the sidelines.
During a playoff game my Junior year, my coach forgot to play me at all and tried to put me in with only 30 seconds left in the game. This was the last straw for me. I already felt like she picked on me unnecessarily and I wasn't going to suffer through another embarrassing amount of playtime. I pretended I didn't hear her until it was too late to sub me in, and I made up my mind.
I was done.
Every girl knew that you had to be dressed and on the field running when she came out of the building to start practice. My friends couldn't believe what I was about to do. As she was about ready to grab her stuff and come out, she found me standing at her office door, completely dressed in my school clothes.
She started having a fit on me and asking me why I wasn't dressed. I told her it really didn't matter if I was on the field or not since she refused to allow me to contribute to the team whatsoever. She started to come back at me and yell at me, but I was done. My body shook as I firmly told her that I worked just as hard as everyone else, and that my playing time was a joke. I told her I was done, handed her my uniform, turned my back to her, and walked away as she continued to yell at me and tell me she'd try to give me more playing time in the next game. I was always respectful to my teachers and coaches, and this time was no different. But there was no way she was going to intimidate me into getting back out on the field. I was so done.
Fast forward to present day.
Big I started playing youth field hockey this fall. She's in 3rd grade and the program just started this year for 2nd graders through 6th graders. The program should be a big boost to the already very good junior high and high school field hockey programs as these kids grow up and get on those teams. Around here, if you don't start a sport by the time you reach your 1st birthday, you're pretty much screwed when it comes to future success and playing time. Soccer programs start at the age of 2. Swimming starts at the age of 6 months. If I hadn't found out about the field hockey program, can you imagine how far behind Big I would have been when she hit 7th grade?
Last week they started scrimmaging. Big I was a wreck. She was so worried about playing the right way and doing a good job. With very little actual instruction on how to play the game, the kids went out on the fields and played six on six. I thought she did a great job for having no clue what was going on. She played somewhat aggressively and I was proud of her.
However, there were two girls on the team, both her age, who were amazingly good. One of the Mom's was serving as the coach for her team as she subbed kids in and I commented about how well her daughter was playing. "Oh," she said, "Yeah well she played on a club league all last year with the other girl."
My heart sank. Wanting to spare Big I the same disappointment that I did, I signed her up for the program thinking she would be ahead or at least at the same level. Once again, we seem to have missed the boat. Clearly, if I don't want her to be warming the bench in the later years, I'm going to need to find out about club hockey, and push her to practice all the time.
The thing is, as a 3rd grader, how is it possible to know what you want to do? How is it possible to not get burnt out from a sport if you start it so very young? What if she decides she wants to play tennis four years from now? Will she get cut because she didn't start swinging a racket when she was three?
I know that sports are great for confidence building, especially with girls. But I can't help but wonder if all this youth sport business isn't setting a huge amount of kids up for major disappointment later in life.
In a couple weeks, I'll be signing Big I up for age group swim team and I'm so afraid that she's already going to be starting miles behind everyone else.
If you had as dismal a fantasy football week as I did, go check out my latest column at Bulls N Balls.
On NOT Bringing Back the 80’s
Today I visited campus to make copies galore and hunt for my new classroom location. I start teaching tomorrow at 8 a.m. and didn't want to have to find it while exhausted. I found my room and was very disappointed to see that I have chalk boards. Um, hello, it's 2009 and I wear black all the time. Last year I had white boards and loved it. I think I'm going to just have to teach off of Power Point this year or an overhead because chalk and I are not going to get along. What are the kids going to think when I scratch my nail on the board and vomit right there in the classroom?
My, my, we're off to a good start.
After spending an hour on campus, I took the girls to a couple clothing stores. We were trying to scope out the good ones for our school shopping excursion on Friday with my Mom. Big I has been bugging me to shop at "Justice for Girls" and I've been steering her to Gap, Gymboree and Children's Place instead. She tells me all the kids are wearing "Justice" and that the cool people wear it.
Dude, she's going to third grade. They are too young to be "cool." It's the year that, if she follows in my footsteps, I should cut her bangs really short, dress her in apples and stretch pants with hand prints on them and call it a day. I'm so not ready for "the cool kids wear it" crap.
We browsed through the aisles at Justice and all I could think about was Punky Brewster.
Except looking at Punky Brewster now, I realize she was not even as bad as Justice. Today's Punky, wearing Justice attire, would be like Punky on crack. Justice is just plain insane. There are fluorescent polo tops with attached hot pink ties around the neck, vests in obnoxious colors and jeans that look bedazzled from waist to toe. The colors are blinding and seizure inducing. The graphic t's are near unbearable; and I am so not planning on spending money in that store.
I allowed her to look around, and she pointed out some shirt that looked like a long sleeved white t-shirt underneath an electric blue halter top with silver glitter on it. I almost threw up right then and there. She asked me if I liked it and I said, "no," choosing instead to hold up and smile at a pale blue shirt with only pale blue on it. Very plain, classic, wearable, and not laughable.
Later, on our way to ju-jutsu, I asked her, "So Big I, would you like the clothes at Justice so much if the store was called 'Gymboree' instead?"
She thought for a minute or two and then said, "You know what Mommy? When I got in there, I didn't like it all that much. It kind of looks like rock star stuff, like a costume almost."
Oh Thank God.
On Friday, we're heading to the Gap outlet where I will happily spend money on normal jeans and cute t-shirts and sweaters.
Punky stayed in the 80's for a reason, a damn good one.
***If you're feeling clicky, please go vote for me because I totally don't look like Punky in my pictures.
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