So this last week, in honor of our new couch/DVD combo, I’ve watched A Beautiful Mind, The Social Network, and then read (on said couch) Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.
I really need to quit watching and reading this kind of material. It’s a painful reminder of how dumb (lazy) I really am.
That’s all. I’m too dumb/lazy to write any more.
Today we had Stake Conference. This means that, instead of attending our usual meetings with our home ward (congregation), we attended a larger, shorter meeting with several other wards in the area. Several wards together make up a “stake.” Thus: Stake Conference.
Now, here is what Stake Conference really means: I have my husband home. All day long. To myself. Because his responsibilities are more specific to our ward, when the Stake meets, he gets a little break. Not one extra meeting, not a single urgent phone call. Just he, me, and baby makes three (five.) Add to this the fact that we just got a new sectional couch last week and a DVD player that was manufactured after 1994 (unlike our old one), and it equates to only one thing: bliss. Cold, gray, quiet, cozy wintertime bliss.
The December and January rush (moving, Christmas, three birthdays) is over and I’m actually kind of glad that spring is not quite here. I need some more indoor time to finish settling into the house and, of course, to lose some of that extra jiggle that I’ve been blaming on the “stress” of this last year. (At what point do you have to quit calling your jiggle “extra” and just concede to the fact that it’s now a permanent part of your body? Six months? A year? I believe I’m pushing the deadline.) At any rate, I’m ready to have (read: hoping that) things slow down a little.
After a late family lunch this afternoon, while Derrick napped and the other kids were upstairs, Megan and I sat down to eat a few homemade, ooey-gooey oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (see previous pp. re: jiggle). I found that my cookies were tasty but lacked a little something. I crept to the pantry and returned with a brand-new bag of plump chocolate chips.
“This stays between you and me.” I told Megan as I quietly ripped open the bag.
“What are you doing.” she said, rather than asked, me. She knew exactly what I was doing.
“What does it look like.” I said back to (not asked) her.
Without a reply or a smile, she thrust out her upturned palm and calmly waited as I obediently poured a heaping handful of chocolate chips into her tiny, five folded fingers.
We sat side-by-side, pushing solid chocolate chips point-side down into the warmly receptive cookies. We doubled the chocolate-to-cookie ratio and after eating our fair share of this improved concoction, moved on to the undiluted pleasure of eating the aforementioned chips straight out of the bag.
Some things, it would seem, are more important than losing my jiggle. Or at least more fun.
It was a good Sunday.
And how else would he celebrate but with a Star Wars party?
First of all: Please do not be intimidated by my lavish decor and professional party planning skills. I know how blogs can invoke jealousy, and that is really not my intent with these crepe-paper-twisties and balloons-taped-to-the-wall. What can I say? Such unique, designer ideas just ooze right on out of me. I guess it’s just my thang.
Nine–yes, nine—little boys showed up, each with a lightsaber or stormtrooper gun in tow. (We encourage violence in these-here parts.) When we ran out of games, the boys just receded to a massive, all-out lightsaber war. I watched mutely from the sidelines, unwilling to disturb the perfect Lord of the Flies aura that prevailed.
Not going to ask. Not even. going to. ask.
Patiently awaiting their turn at Pin the Lightsaber on Darth Vader. Notice Megan’s megaphone. It looks like a toy but I’m telling you, it works. She used it all day to herd the cattle from one activity to the next. I was happy for her that she finally found a way to talk over all the blasted noise in this house.
Rachael whipped up this paper Darth and accompanying lightsabers the night before. She, Megan, Bailie and Natalie (their cousins) worked like crazy to help plan and decorate for the party. They then won my heart forever by hosting all of the games and helping me supervise on the Big Day. The crowning achievement came when they led the boys on a rather involved Rescue Princess Leia treasure hunt that they had created. (The princess was finally rescued in the big red wagon out in the garage, and and all of the Jedis were rewarded with a Ring Pop.) The older girls had fun re-living their younger birthday-party years; Nat even admitted to me that she still loves a good helium-filled balloon.
Musical Lightsabers. (Like I said, ladies: do not feel bad about the level of ingenuity here.)
And now, my friends, it’s time for the Great Unveiling. Thanks to the supreme talents of one Aunt Julie, those MormonMommyBloggers got nothin’ on me. That’s right. For my son’s birthday, it was all about the…
And it gets even better. Julie didn’t stop with his face and those eyes. No, no. She busted out Yoda’s cloaked shoulders as well. Check out the multiple layers of poop-brown fondant delectably folded over itself. Mouth-watering, is it not? I had to sit on my hands to keep from grabbing a fork and digging in before the guests arrived.
Yoda endures a slow, painful decapitation as Mom realizes she should probably quit taking pictures and put the cake on a flat surface.
Sampling Yodas face and shoulders. (Or did Zach and Lincoln get into the pot brownies??)
All kidding aside, we were thrilled over this fun cake. My sister really should become one of those MormonMommyBloggers–she’s that good. (I just didn’t give her an especially pretty subject to work with.) Thank you again, Jewely!
And happy birthday, big guy. We hope your year is more like this:
and less like this:
We love you, Easy E! Happy 6th!