Roller Skating Party Palooza

A few months ago, the girls got the roller skating bug when they borrowed the neighbor girls' roller skates.  Since then, it's been all roller skates, all the time.  With their birthdays coming up, I knew just what to get them.  

A lizard.

Just kidding!  Roller skates, of course!

Emma requested roller blades, while Addie requested pink roller skates.  

The plot thickened when they got the idea to have a roller skating birthday party.  It seemed like a great solution to their new infatuation with skating.  

So like any mom who grew up in Colorado, my mind went straight to Skate City.  Is Skate City still in business?  Why, yes it is!  Is it still a little dirty, creepy and are the doors still covered in orange carpet?  Yes, yes, and yes!  I guess some things never change.

Reluctantly, I scheduled their joint birthday party.  Reluctant because:

1.  I suspected it might get chaotic.

2.  The numbers!  They kept adding more people to the list.  Yikes!  Which leads me to...

3.  The cost!  Okay, it's pretty reasonable, especially when the trade off is not having the mess and chaos at your own home.

4.  Um, it's Skate City.  Carpeted doors.  

5.  I didn't feel like it was very creative.  I have a thing for creative parties.  This wouldn't exercise my need for creativity.

But, then I remembered the part about the no mess at my house and the part about not having to get my house perfectly clean and the part about how much the girls wanted a skating party and I was sold.  Oh yeah, and the part about how when I was younger I secretly wanted to compete in the Olympics with my rollerskating skillz.  I practiced my routines for hours in the street in front of my house.  And then I found out rollerskating is not an Olympic event.  I was crushed.

But back to the party...

I was right about one thing:  CHAOS.

But it was fun.  The girls would never describe it as chaotic, they'd only describe it as the most awesome party ever.  But I learned a few things:

1.  I'd probably meet all the kids/parents outside first, because our table wasn't ready when they told us to arrive and it was totally chaotic getting all the parents/kids on the same page about where to go.  And we were clueless, so that didn't help.  

2.  I wouldn't do a skating party again for kids under 8... and even that's pushing it.  My girls are crazy and adventurous and can skate, and I somehow forgot that that isn't the norm.  Kids were clinging to walls and falling constantly.  Oops.  I think they still had fun though.  I didn't get a single complaint from moms who willingly strapped on the skates, that's for sure!  

3.  I will brace myself for the chaos next time because WHOA I didn't know what hit me.

4.  A combined party for the girls (whose birthdays are 2 weeks apart) is not a great idea when they invite so many friends.  Our rule of inviting as many kids as you are old is a good one.  Why didn't we stick to it this time?!?  It was too many kids to keep track of at Skate City.  I'm so glad some parents stuck around.

5.  Did I mention the chaos?    

But, it really was fun.  The girls were all smiles.  

And I couldn't help myself, and I did find a way to get creative.  

First, I made them special shirts to wear to the party.  I appliqued a fun little thing for each of them.  Addie's is a 6 on wheels, and Emma's said "SK8" - and they loved them!  I didn't have time to stitch around the design though, because I literally did these an hour before the party.  Creative, yes.  Planner, no.

For party favors, we made these dipped, candy-coated pretzels with a little tag that read, "I'm wheelie glad you came to my party."

I have about 51 1/2 weeks to plan the next party (I do things last-minute, remember?), but I'm thinking it won't involve wheels, disco lights or carpeted doors.  

Happy birthday, sweet girls!

Boating in Kauai

Ahhhh, Kauai.

Don't you just envision you and your dream guy cruising around the island in a hot red mustang convertible, with the top down, and the ocean breeze whipping through your hair?  The sun beating down on you while you soak up the adventure and relaxation that is Kauai?

Me too.

Or don't you at least envision zipping around the island in an economy car?  That awesome Ford Focus that was the cheapest thing to get off the lot?  I mean, hey - if it takes you from point A to point B, and in you're in HAWAII, does it really matter?  It's good on gas, it's easy to park... of course it doesn't matter.

Let me tell you a story.  And take notes if you plan to rent a car anytime soon.

Before we left for Kauai, I was giddy with excitement.  We'd booked our hotels, we'd booked our adventures, we'd dreamed about what we'd do.  We were set.  There was just one little "unknown" and we were even excited about that.  When we reserved our rental car, we opted for the...

MYSTERY CAR! 

(...Mystery Car!  ... Mystery Car!  <---echos)

Orbitz told us that for just $1 more a day, we would get the "special" - we were promised the compact car or larger.  A mustang?  A jeep?  What would it be?!  Worst case scenario told us we'd get the compact car - a Ford Focus.  If it was good enough for the American Idols, it was good enough for us!

So as I waited for Gary to pull up and pick me up at the airport curb (he picked up the car while I picked up the luggage), I anxiously watched for our car.

Was that it?  The Jeep?  No.

Oh, that must be him in the Escape!  Fun!  Oh.  Nope.

The Mustang?  Seriously!?  Nope, just some old guy.

I waited.  Finally, my wait was over.  Lumbering toward me was a silver beast, with Gary behind the wheel.  Suddenly, I had flashbacks.

You need to know that I drove this baby in high school:

A 1981 Mercury Grand Marquis.  Don't be jealous.  It might've been awesome had it been 1981 when I went to high school.  Actually, no.  It probably still wouldn't have been awesome.  And it still wasn't awesome 15 years later when I got to drive it into the school parking lot.  I know you might think that this car probably boosted me to instant popularity, but you are wrong.

So when Gary drove up in this beauty, a two-thousand-something Mercury Grand Marquis--

--I thought to myself, "Sweeeet ride!"

No.  No, I didn't think that.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not that picky about cars, and more than anything I was thankful to be in Hawaii.  But driving my grandparents' car around the island?  Really?

Gary was on the same page.  I got in the car and he was fuming.  (It was actually very funny.)  He kept ranting, "I paid an extra $1 a day for THIS?!"  We went back to the car rental place and explained that surely there must have been some confusion.  They explained that no, this is what we get.

We learned that when you sign up for the "special" deal, you get the leftovers on the lot.  They'll rent you whatever cars haven't been reserved or rented already - the ones they can't get rid of.  So until Grand Marquis are in high demand, this is what you'll get.  There were approximately 137 of them sitting in the lot.



So we were bummed.  For less money, we could've gotten a smaller, more economical car.  So much for throwing the dice and hoping our mystery car would be something fun and exciting.  I mean, here's an interesting fact:  the Grand Marquis is 10" longer than the minivan we drive at home (our Honda Odyssey measures 202.9" vs. 212")!!  WHAT?!

And, I admit that we were secretly jealous of our friends who were arriving the next day who would probably luck out and get the convertible after all.  But guess what?  That's right, there were two Grand Marquis cruising around the island last month.

THEY GOT ONE TOO.  We've never laughed so hard.

So...

When given lemons, make lemonade, right?  With two monstrous boats at our disposal, what else were we to do but a photo shoot?

I know that Kim and I make you want to rent one.

After seeing these, forget renting.  You probably want to go out and buy your very own, huh?

We're just paving the way for that Orbitz Special to run them out of these Marquis.  We make them look goooood.

And also?  We squeezed the six of us into one of these cars.  And when I say, "squeezed," I actually mean we had ample room.  Take THAT, you stinkin' convertible.

Cave Girls vs. The Brodysaurus

I'm a sucker for themed Halloween costumes.  I guess it runs in my blood.  One year my sister and I were a mouse and mousetrap.  Another year, all of the adults on the street I grew up on went to the town Halloween party as a dozen eggs.  Last year, my kids were all pirates and the year before they were a Wizard of Oz trio.

So this year, I threw out a few ideas to my kids.  They immediately loved the cave girls and dinosaur theme.  I made it clear to them that they could be whatever they wanted, that they didn't HAVE to go along with this idea, but they were more than happy to.  (And my heart did a little happy dance.)

I planned to be ahead of the game and get the costumes done ahead of time (famous last words), but on Sunday afternoon on the day before Halloween, I finally did something about it.  I've always been a procrastinator!  The costumes were NOT complicated.  Seriously, even those with very little sewing experience could whip these out.

All I did was take a jumper from each of my girls (or any dress would do if you don't have a jumper) and trace it, minus the arms.  And then I just swooped my tracing down to omit one shoulder altogether.  And then it was just sewing down each side in a straight line, and sewing that shoulder strap.  Finally, just cut the bottom all zig-zaggy and uneven.  That's it!

Of course, I did sew the arm hole shut on my first attempt, but we don't need to talk about that.

Seriously, so easy to make that even a caveman could do it.  C'mon.  You knew that was coming!

The necklaces were a cinch to make too.  The wooden beads and plastic bear claw beads are all in the jewelry aisle of Hobby Lobby.  A few of those and a leather string (same aisle) and VOILA!  Cave girl necklace!  Oh, and strips of fabric velcroed around their wrists and ankles for more accessories.

The bones in their hair are just cut from white cardstock and glued to a strip of fabric.  Easy peasy.

They insisted on going barefoot for trick-or-treating (never mind that it was a balmy 40 degrees here in Colorado on Halloween night...), but school required shoes.  I just tied a bunch of fabric strips onto their flip flops for that.

I think their hair was actually the best part of the costume.  We put their hair in just a few foam curlers the night before so we'd have some body to work with.  It was dry by morning, and then we ratted, ratted, RATTED their hair until it was big and crazy.

A little hairspray, a little more ratting, and soon we had perfectly coifed cavegirl hair.  Combing it out that night was a challenge, but HEY!  Nothing a pumpkin full of candy can't soothe, right?

As far as our little dinosaur goes, his costume was given to us by some friends.  It was originally a dragon that looked like this.

(I didn't take a picture before hand, so this photo is from eBay, but it's the same costume.)

I was fine with it, realizing that no one would notice that it was a dragon and not a dinosaur.  Fine... until I woke up on Halloween morning.  Suddenly, I NEEDED a DINOSAUR.  So with about an hour before we had to be at our first class party, our make-shift dinosaur was born.  I created a dinosaur face with felt and pinned it over the top of the dragon's face.  Nothing is glued on, so all I have to do is unpin it and we have a dragon once again.

The back looked like this:

Brody was pretty concerned about the dinosaur having such a short tail, so I pieced together what felt I had laying around to make a dinosaur tail.  I fit it right over the dragon's tail, and a few safety pins later our dinosaur had a tail.  An imperfect tail, but a tail nonetheless.  And Brody was happy.

Happy Halloween from our cave to yours!

A Humbling Bedtime Story

We snuggled into the couch together, Addie pressed right up against my side as we started reading our book for the night.  

She had picked a Veggie Tales book, and I was not in the mood to read it.  I wasn't in the mood to read ANY book.  

Bedtime had not gone smoothly for the little two, who usually go to bed first.  Chloe's diaper rash had her writhing and screaming and resisting sleep.  Or maybe it was the teething.  Either way, she was cranky.  Brody wet his pants as soon as I got his jammies on him.  It was his third accident of the day, and I was out of understanding and patience for it.  As much as I want bedtime to be this sweet, meaningful time with my kids, there are nights like tonight when I go through the motions as quickly as I can, and put them to bed without much tenderness at all.

Once the little two are in bed, I start the bedtime routines with the older girls.  This night, Emma was dragging out homework as long as possible, which was frustrating to me since it was getting late.  Addie was getting whiny.  As I sat on the couch waiting for Addie to bring me just ONE story instead of the stack of SEVEN she insisted on, I finally just grabbed one out of her hands and blurted, "Come on!  This one will work.  Let's go!"

But just then, the girls started fighting over a balloon.  Lately they've been into drawing silly faces on balloons and playing with them.  It's fine with me, until the ink starts getting all over everything and then the girls forget about the balloons and they just sit around inking everything up (you should've seen Chloe's face yesterday!).  For whatever reason, this forgotten balloon under the coffee table caught their eye and they started fighting over it.  At that point, I lost it.  I grabbed the balloon, squeezed it with all my might until it popped and threw it on the floor.  It was a fine display.  I felt really mature at that moment.  It was somewhat reminiscent of the Pink Plate incident of '08.

Emma was stunned.  Speechless, she walked back into the office to finish her homework.  Addie, on the other hand, was beside herself.  "That was my FAVORITE balloon EVER!!!!!!" she wailed.  I was exasperated.  

"Sit down and read this with me NOW or just go straight to bed," I growled.

So...

We snuggled into the couch together, Addie pressed right up against my side as we started reading our book for the night.  

I could feel her sobbing as I started the story.

She had chosen - or rather, I had chosen, when I grabbed it from her hands - a Veggie Tales book called, "What's Up With Lyle?"

I read through the book, counting down the pages until the end.  Until bedtime. 

Finally... the last page.  Finally, thought Bad Attitude Girl. 

Oh.  Crap.  Like in a scene from a movie, the whole night flashed before my eyes and I realized that I'd acted exactly opposite of how Paul instructs us to in this verse.  Here I was, with a great verse to wrap up this book before bedtime, and I was the last person on earth worthy of helping Addie to understand it.

Except, I was probably just the right person.  

The silence after I read that verse to her seemed to last forever.  I lifted her on my lap to face me and held her chin in my hands.  She started crying all over again before I said a word.  I explained to her how I'd acted wrongly:  I'd been prideful.  I'd not been gentle.  I was impatient and not very loving with her.

She was quick to agree with me.  Ouch.

And then I asked her if she'd forgive me.  She tearfully nodded and threw her arms around my neck.  We hugged for a minute or two, and I felt so inadequate.  But I knew that everything was right.  

Being tired at the end of the night is no excuse for me to get short and snippy with them.  Yelling at them or having unreasonable expectations does not teach them gentleness.  When I start spinning out of control and acting like I'M the five year old, all I'm left with is equally out of control kids, and a sick feeling in my stomach.  

It turns out Addie hadn't picked out the book.  I hadn't picked out the book when I grabbed it out of her hands.  No, God picked out the book.  For me.

It's hard to swallow my pride and admit to my kids when I've been a big ugly jerk (and here I am admitting it to all the internets!).  I know that if I'm not careful, I'm going to crush them and lose their hearts. 

It's time for me to ask God for help (daily! hourly!), print out this verse, and display it where it can be a constant reminder to me.  Anyone else out there in the same boat?  

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."

Ephesians 4:2

The Difference A Day Makes

This was yesterday:

I'm convinced the heart of autumn was residing at this park.  The leaves were perfectly crunchy, a gentle breeze would send hundreds of leaves flying, giggles abounded from kids rolling down leaf covered hills, and the colors were vivid.  I could've stayed there for days.

That is, if this hadn't been the forecast:

Classic Colorado weather!  THIS is today:

Our first snow.  As I'm typing this, We have close to 8 inches of snow and it's scheduled to continue falling all day.

So, what else is there to do besides drag out all the snow gear?  Out from the basement and dusty corners of the closet came coats, hats, boots, mittens, scarves, earmuffs, gloves, and snow pants.  Much of it was outgrown or missing, meaning that the girls went to school wearing rain boots instead, and Brody had some girly purple gloves.  But that didn't stop them.

By the time I bundled Brody up, he was almost too tired to go outside.  He just laid on the floor and it took some major coaxing to get him to go play.

And about 30 seconds later, he was back.

Isn't that how it goes?  You spend 28 minutes getting the kids all ready to go, and then they spend a fraction of that time playing.  So I forced encouraged him to go back out.

Chloe loved watching her big brother and sister play in the snow.  And if it hadn't been nap time, I may have gotten her all cozy to play too.

But nap time trumped snow time.

Can I tell you a secret?

Lean in close, because I'll probably be banished from the club of tough Colorado moms if I tell you this.  I don't like it when my kids play in the snow.  Don't get me wrong, I love how it delights them.  I love that they exercise and use their imaginations and have fun when they're snowing it up.  I love that they're tired afterwards.  But I dread getting them ready to go out and all the effort it takes, and really loathe the pile of wet, soggy snow clothes that sits by the back door when they're done.  I usually suggest 23 other things they could do instead of playing in the snow, before I finally give in.  Puzzles?  Legos?  Computer game?  Coloring?  Play-doh???!?!?!  (On second thought, choose SNOW, kids!!!)

Bah-humbug, huh?

I know.  But, because I love them, I suck it up and get excited with them.  And if Chloe hadn't been on the verge of nap time, I would've joined them in the snow.  And because I just adore the heck out of them, I wrap them in blankets when they come in and make hot cocoa for them.  Nothing like a cold snowy day when I'd prefer to snuggle up by the fire and read a book all day to remind me of my selfishness.

And if selfishness trumped snow time, I'd miss out on these happy faces and some kids who had the time of their lives playing in the first snow of the season.  Take these memories away from them or from me?  Nope.  Not a chance.  As Gary reminded me this morning, I have the best job ever.  I'm so grateful.