The Birthdayest Birthday in the Whole Birthday World

Phase I: The Little Gym
I don't know about you, but I like a birthday party where the guests sing "Happy Birthday" like 6 times. Really feels like a celebration. And of course, it wouldn't be the Little Gym without a thousand songs.
Also a rock wall.

And a cheese mat on which to collapse with exhaustion if your big brother's 3rd birthday party happens to fall directly in the middle of your naptime.

This was Harry's first "friend" birthday party, and Little Gym was the PERFECT venue. In addition to his cousins Max and Lucy, and his brother Jack, Harry had 2 kids from his preschool class (we invited everyone, but lots of people were on vacation, which I suspect will be the case every year because that's what happens when you have a summer birthday), his longtime frend Josephine (whom he met at Little Gym when he was just 7 months old), and his friends Ben and Hunter (who might be the most well-behaved preschoolers I have ever met and whose mom went to college with me and Ben and whose dad is a native Central Illinoisian, too).

If you have a preschooler and a Little Gym, book your party NOW. They did everything from welcoming guests and entertaining the kiddies, to serving and cleaning up the cake and pizza, to providing all the paper ware, favors, and decorations, to choreographing and recording the gift opening (no small feat in a room full of mostly 3 year olds). AMAZING.

Clearly. the kids had a blast

Not pictured: the adults hurling balls at each other as hard as we could. My brother Ben started it. My husband Ben ended it by pelting our little niece Lucy n the tummy when Ben's dad ducked out of the way.

I love how red and sweaty Harry gets when he exerts himself.

Most of the kids loved taking a ride and a flip on the donut. The preschoolers thought the notion of a rolling donut was out-of-this-world funny.

The babies wondered what the heck just happened to them

This dazed look on Jack's face after he flips and is righted is one of the reasons I signed him up for Little Gym for the summer and fall.

Ahhh, the Air Track. The bane of my existence when I was pregnant and we had to sit on it while it was inflated, and all the other moms and kids popped right up to the top but Harry and I just sat in a hole because I was so heavy.

The kids like it though, and this party was ALL ABOUT THE KIDS.

Harry closed his eyes and paused for a moment before he blew out his candle-- he was MAKING A WISH-- how cute is that? (When asked, the greedy little guy told us he wished for more Santa and more Easter Bunny. Nice).

The kids were pretty darn cute eating pizza and Batman cake. The frosting stained everyone's teeth, lips, hands, and I imagine their clothes, too.


The obligatory family posed shots that we take every year



Miss Molly was awesome at handling the gift opening, and Harry was a peach-- he loved all of his presents, and he hugged each party guest, which was adorable.


Phase II, Our House

After the kiddies went to bed we all reconvened at our house for a ton of Thai takeout, Batman cake, wine, and what we hoped would be a grown up party. My brother Jon and his girlfriend Brae even drove in from Chicago. 2 things stood n the way of an adults-only soiree. First of all, this guy woke up for more cake:

Second, Ben and Ben wrestled

intensely

for a really awkward amount of time

twice actually, and I have more pictures, but they're kind of creepy.


Phase III, Harry's actual birthday morning
HB woke up early, excited to get more presents.

Here's jack offering him the stuffed Woody doll Ben and I bought in a panic because we were unable to buy Toy Story dolls like the ones in the movie because greedy Disney has pulled them all from the shelves to make kids REALLY want them next summer when Toy Story 3 hits theaters. We finally did find the whole cast of Toy Story on Amazon, so we gave him the stuffed Woody and Buzz the night before his birthday as a way to bribe him back to bed. It worked.

At first, he was overjoyed, but then he wondered why Buzz Lightyear didn't have a mission log and where the Stinky Pete doll was (Stinky Pete the Prospector? Never actually manufactured). Then he threw them all in a heap

and modeled his new roller skates, sans pants.

We capped off the morning with breakfast with both sets of grandparents. At breakfast, the birthday boy told the waiter that he didn't need a menu; it was his birthday, and he was going to eat chocolate cake. Okay then.


**** Interlude: Urgent Care****
On the way out of the restaurant, my brother Ben accidentally tripped over Jack, who fell face first onto the cement. Then Ben sort of stepped on his head a little.

Our doctor had hours at urgent care, so we stopped by. He laughed at Jack's red nose and said he wanted to take a picture. Then he casually asked us if Jack's nose had been running before the fall-- you know, just so he could make sure the clear liquid wasn't brain fluid. Cool. In the end, he said Jack was fine, but his injuries might require some vaseline.


Phase IV: Lake Geneva

We capped off the birthday weekend with a surprise (to Harry) trip to a cute little lake town, where we stayed at a hotel with a ginormous waterpark.
Jack? Not so into water.
Here we are in our hotel room, which was a never-ending source of wonders to both kids. Bathroom cabinets?? Aweosme! A Kitchen table? Astounding! A TV in the bedroom? WOW.


Jack bounced in this thing for awhile-- the only thing he'd do without crying

It was hard to take a picture of Harry because he was a little wet, joyful blur. He loved the water slides.

This picture was taken about an hour after the first one. Still bouncing. We traded who got to hang with J and who had to keep H from drowning.

We swam until Harry was a prune, then we got dressed and headed downtown for dinner at a place called Harry's and a horse and carriage ride

I thought Harry or his Crocs were going overboard any minute.

Jack was super happy-- he squealed with delight when he saw the horse and smiled almost the whole time. He sneezed once-- a big glob of black goo that made him cry.

Harry had Superman ice cream (rainbow sherbet creatively named), and he was very serious about eating it with gusto.

More swimming-- the outdoor pools were closed, so no bouncey for Jack, but one of the indoor pools had a baby swing above the water, so he was happy-ish until Harry sprayed the crap out of him with a hose.

The next morning, Harry and Jack swung by the gift shop as we checked out, and Jack picked out a moose he first spotted when we arrived at the hotel. Pretty cute that he remembered it and still wanted it the next day.



After a quick breakfast at the cute little cafe at which we announced Jack's impending arrival to Ben's parents a couple summers ago, we hit the public beach. Where we learned that Jack hates sand.
On our way to the beach, Harry threw change in this fountain and again wished for more Santa.

Jack really disliked the sand. And the water.

Harry spent a couple hours digging a whole and filling it with water and demanding that we all swim in his pool.



Jack did not like the pool.

He perked up a bit for the old bury your feet in the sand game


And moments after this picture was taken, he ripped off my bikini top, and I flashed like 3 other families. Classy.

Despite his love of cold water, Harry tripped and went totally under, and had to bundle up for a bit to recover

Jack longed for a water noodle.

Ben was super proud of his sand pool-- and he should have been, since he spent the whole morning wading in and out of the freezing lake with Harry and his buckets.

We supervise Jack well, huh?


All in all, a pretty fun birthday weekend. Harry says now that he is 3 he will not ride in shopping carts, but he will poop in the potty. Sweet.

Soccer Harry

In retrospect, the full-on soccer gear was overkill since all the other kids wore, um, normal clothes. But Harry assured us that he brought his A game (thanks for teaching him that phrase, Ben), and he said he was glad to have his water bottle for "when his breath got out."

His Rainbows

Last night, I squeezed into Harry's fire truck bed to read him a story. The room was hot because our house gets stuffy between 5 and 7 every night no matter what the temperature is outside. I didn't pull up his covers because his cheeks were already a little flushed, and he looked warm.

"Mama," he said. "Why didn't you put the rainbows on me?"

I looked at him blankly for a second. "The rainbows," I asked. "Oh! You mean your blankets?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "My blankets."

I obliged, pulling up his red blanket, his yellow quilt, and the blue fleece he's had since he was a baby. His rainbows. I love this, that he has a private word for his blankets, that his word is such an apt description, that he's never shared this word before, that it tumbled out in a moment of sleepy confusion, and especially that he wanted it back as soon as he said it, tucked back in his little head with a kaleidoscope of private observations whose existence I never contemplated.

He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who keeps anything to himself, but now I can't stop wondering how else he sees the world, what else he shares with no one.

When I left his room, I told him I hoped his rainbows kept him cozy.

"Mama," he said. "I think you should call them my blankets."

Fat fattty fat fat*

Firs of all, I am NOT writing this post so ya'll will say, "OMG, Sarah. You are so not fat." I will not be able to hear you over the straining sound the denim squeezing my thighs is making anyway. I am writing this because today, my friends, I am embarking on a weight loss journey the likes of which I haven't embarked upon since junior high when I did Weight Watchers and got so skinny my hair started to fall out and my skin was ashy-- and I looked amazing, dahling.

I signed up for Sparkpeople today and found I have eaten 525 calories already and used up almost half of my allotted fat grams. That's just for breakfast. Eff.

I had my yearly physical today and found I still weigh 9 more pounds than I did on the day I got pregnant with Jack (a factoid I know because I was at my doctor's office for a physical the day I found out Jack was on his way, and despite having peed on $150 worth of negative pregnancy tests in 48 hours, I KNEW I was pregnant and demanded a blood test and voila!).

I decided to set a weight loss goal of 22 pounds which will make me 10 pounds under my driver's license weight (and I will so go back to the DMV and get a new license if that is the case) and just barely able to donate blood (not that I do, but I would like to have the option).

I told my doctor I HAVE NO IDEA what is keeping me from losing the weight, so she took some blood to test my thyroid, but I am lying. I know exactly what is causing the fat fatty fat fat-- all the food I have been eating. I probably cram 6-7 mini candy bars in my face every night while I clean the kitchen-- and that's after a whole day of eating eleventy billion teddy grahams and anything left on Jack's high chair tray. And all my other food. That I mostly eat as fast as I can while hunched over my computer.

So, crap. Buh-bye Potbelly binges and italian subs for lunch 3 days a week. Hello salad spray and rice cakes with reduced fat peanut butter.

Also? My colon is totally fine, but hopes no one touches it again. Ever.

Hopefully, this picture will serve as my "before" in a few months. (also, I am still going to have to drink) (also, also, I am not generally very good with budgets, so I imagine wisely spending a calorie budget is going to be tricky. There will be days when I have eaten 1500 calories before noon, I fear, and days when I hoard them all and get shitfaced. All in the name of good health!)

(also, also, also-- Ben and I were out to dinner-- a buttery, olive-oil and vino soaked dinner--and it was so damn cold, I had to buy a sweatshirt so we could eat outside-- hello! It's JUNE)
* I am not sure if that's the exact line, but I was going for the phrase Juna hurled at Valerie Cherish from inside the fridge when Valerie was dressed up like the giant cupcake. Anybody else miss The Comeback?

I am a lady who lunches or would lunch if I could find the time to eat with all this complaining I have to do

Today I was contemptlaing the size of my upper arms and wondering where in the world I would find the time to squeeze in a yoga DVD everyday-- and I was, like, seriously stressed about the time thing. I started ticking off yesterday's schedule in my head to sort of prove to myself that I was exercising as much as I could. I mean, I was up by 7:30, and I had to be totally dressed by noon when Jamie showed up-- that's only 4 and a half hours. Then because of poor planning on my part, it took me until almost 2:45 to get my pedicure. I spent another 2 hours trolling for Fathers Day gifts and while waiting until my polish dried so I could go to the gym without smudging my toes. Then I had to trow dinner together by 6. I mean, that is a FULL DAY, and I didn't even mention the laundry I put away while the babysitter gave the boys lunch. Ugh. I am tied just thinking about it.

Sarcasm, my friends, in case it didn't come across. My life these days is a little, um, not as hard as it used to be?

About the third time I called Ben (at work where he was working) to complain that all the walk in cheapy pedicure places were packed yesterday, and I was going to have to waiitttttttt in liiiiine and read oooooooold magazines, he totally lost his patience and stopped taking my calls. I went to an actual salon to get my nails done (where, thanks Karma, I got the worst pedicure I have ever gotten-- I actually had to exfoliate my feet and repaint two nails at home-- actions that threw Ben into a tizzy of martyrdom because he had to do part of BOTH kids' bedtimes).

But then I realized, I am acting like kind of an entitled asshole these days. I am just sort of at loose ends, though, without deadlines and the like. Although if I procrastinate any longer on prepping my summer class, I will be pulling 11 hour days again in no time. Luckily my dissertation advisor must have sensed my identity crisis because she emailed me about a book chapter project we have ben working on for 3 years to let me know that it really is really due on Monday, so my dance card this week is blissfully full.

But the yoga thing. Seriously. I am wearing a tank top to Harry's birthday part this weekend, and my arms? Not tank top ready. Maybe I'll finally get the 30 day shred and do it like 7 times a day to up the shreddiness factor.

I used to complain about how busy I was. Now? I complain about too much leisure time. Ben-- he is a lucky, lucky man.

Just another manic Monday

Jack gets really happy when he can help do things. Here he even doffed his tiara in appreciation of inclusion. Sometimes when we talk to him, he blushes and ducks his head which is a sure sign that we need to talk to him more. But who has time for THAT? (I'm kidding. Sort of).

Ben was so glad for all the assistance, and Jack only got hit in the face with house poles a few times. I blame the influence of Kung Fu Panda.

Oh look! It's Ben and the mini Bens-- someday they will be his army of trained ninjas-- or, as Harry says, "injas"

Jack has been noticing the boob tube lately, and while I never would have let my preshus Harry Beary Angel watch a millisecond of TV before the AAP said he could (and I was soooooooooo judgmental of people who did let their toddlers look at the glowing talking box), I find myself hoping that something catches and maintains Jack's interest for a few minutes (or 20), and while the TV babysitter has him captivated, if she could just teach him how to count and spell, that'd be awesome.

I took a picture of Harry in my Uggs before being horrified that he was wearing shoes in my house because this is what all the coastie undergrads wear on campus-- leggings, short shirts, and chunky Uggs. Year round. And they carry $1500 purses with disdain. They're so cool

Edited to Add: Ben! Looking at these pictures made me realize you were totally right about the red lampshade!