Best Birthday

Hey y'all -

I have to say, even though I'm getting older, my birthdays are getting better.

In the days leading up to my birthday last Saturday, Laney had started baking birthday cakes - I mean, "baking" "birthday cakes." She came to me last Thursday and said, "I baked you a love cake for your birthday." In case you've never caught the recipe for Love Cake in Southern Living, it calls for 3 cups of assorted Play-doh, one sorting toy, foam letters to taste, one dressy bracelet and two ball point pens for garnish (optional).

Using my mom powers for evil, I also had Laney practice how she was going to wake up her dad on the morning of my birthday and whisper, "Let's go get my mom some birthday doughnuts." The practice paid off, 'cause she totally came into our room at 6am on my birthday with a "spontaneous" doughnut suggestion.

Grandma Sue had pitched me the idea of having a small birthday party at our house: she would handle everything for the party and Thor would hang out with you two and I could go shopping.

I can not TELL you the last time I went shopping all by myself. It's been so long that the bar has definitely been lowered in terms of what counts as a fabulous shopping getaway. This is the text message I sent my boss:

In this moment of untethered retail euphoria, I most definitely missed my friend and former shopping co-conspirator Karen, so I texted her everything I tried on so she could weigh in. Almost as fun as having her there.

I got home just a little before the party to discover that Laney had frosted my cake, and Grandma Sue had made a huge spread of spring rolls and chicken wings and seared tuna and I don't even remember all the stuff she set out.

Then, it was time for the guests to arrive. For a 37 year old's party, the place sure was infested with preschoolers.

All the grown-ups were sitting on the deck, drinking margaritas and enjoying the last warm day of the year...

...when Laney came out on the porch in her pink tutu bathing suit and declared, "I'm going to go swimming now." After that, it took about three minutes for all 7 young'uns at the party to get in the hot tub. It was hollering and mayhem and semi-nudity, and it basically looked like an episode of MTV's Spring Break. 

We got everyone dried off, and it was time to start Family Game Night. We played Pictionary, with varying degrees of success:

If you guessed "Monster in a garden," you're right!

Then, we all played an interactive dance game on the Wii.

The spouse vs spouse dance-offs were the BEST.

I came in dead last. There was a 6 year old there who trounced me. Dad Seth beat me while holding his kindergartener in his left arm.... so literally, he beat me one-handed.

The littlest boys were more interested in planning to invade Canada, or whatever else was going on at this meeting of the minds:

The party started at 4p, and after what seemed like just a few minutes, I looked down at my watch and discovered it was 10:00pm! I said, "Y'all have got to go home!"

It was such a great day - thanks to everyone who made it the best birthday ever.

Love,

Mom

Birthday Dinner

Hey y'all -

It's my birthday this weekend, and I decided for my birthday dinner I'd like to go downtown to a place called The Top Hat (a restaurant/bar/concert venue) for their semi-annual Montana Craft Beer Dinner which was held last night. Your dad and I rode our bikes and parked 'em next to the other fifty bikes in front of the restaurant.

I imagine this is going to be one of those obnoxious "Missoula is the best!" posts, because seriously: Missoula is the best. The chef prepared seven courses of great local food paired with seven (tasting-sized) glasses of Montana beers.

Each course was pretty incredible, and if I ate nothing but those smoked salmon fritters for the rest of my life, I'd be happy.

The one downside (I'd thought) was that the tables were all set up family-style, so everyone ate at big tables with a bunch of strangers.  I sat across from your dad, and because the venue is such a big loud open space, I thought the night was going to be a disaster. I hate to raise my voice, I can't stand a bunch of ambient noise, and your dad can't hear. But the people seated next to us were so friendly, and when I heard them mention how hard it is to install their car seat, I was reminded what makes Missoula great: babies and beer. Thirty minutes and two beer tastings later, we were best friends.

We talked about our favorite episodes of Dora The Explorer, our favorite places to ski, our favorite local eateries, etc. We showed each other pictures of our kids on our phones. And then I looked around the packed room and realized that over half the folks in there were dads in their 30s wearing plaid shirts. We were among our people.

The only problem with the meal was that the food portions were so tiny; even though there were seven courses, each one was smaller than a ping pong ball. When your dad and I got home, we talked about how good the dinner had been, and then we stood in the kitchen and ate half a roasted chicken, some cheese toast and a Nutty Buddy ice cream cone... with a glass of wine. 

Not that I should admit this on a blog written to/for my children, but I woke up this morning and felt like I was going to die. Your dad and I moaned and held our aching heads and reminded each other that we're not 21 anymore. Hell, we're not even 31 anymore. At least in my case, older does not seem to equal wiser. 

Because your father is a prince among men, he got up and went to McDonald's this morning, and came home with a sack of McMuffins and fried hash browns and a large coffee.

In between swallowing ibuprofen, I've spent some time this morning reflecting on how blessed my life is.  I have a mother-in-law who will drop everything to watch my two amazing kids so I can ride a bike with my handsome husband through my bucolic town to a delicious dinner. As the song goes, "My old truck's still runnin' good / my ticker's tickin' like they say it should."Life is so good in this moment, I'm almost jealous of myself. 

Best birthday ever. Thanks everybody.

Love,

Mom

Yo, Gabber Gabber

Hey y'all -

The Missoula Carousel is holding a contest right now called "Ride All The Ponies." If you submit pictures of yourself riding all 40 of the horses on the carousel by December 31st, you'll be entered to win five years of free rides. When I heard about it, I thought it sounded like a fun project for Laney and me. Well, that's partially true. When I heard about it, the hyper-competitive side of me that comes courtesy of my mother kicked in, and I vowed we were going to win that pass, as God is my witness.

Side Story #1: Back in 1995 or so, Peg Peg and Tex moved to a new house in Little Rock. Shortly after they moved in, the little girl who lived in the house behind theirs came over to introduce herself. She was wearing a Girl Scout brownie uniform, but her sash had no badges. "Where are your badges?" Peg Peg asked. "I don't have any," the girl said. Never mind that my mother had known this girl for mere seconds and was in no way related to the child: Peg Peg said, "Well, that won't do. Go home and get your manual and let's start earning some badges." That poor child didn't know what a slacker she'd been until my mama moved in next door; no one is going badgeless on Peg Peg's watch.

So, the carousel contest. Once every week or two, I surprise Laney and pick her up at school and take her to the carousel on the way home. We have a checklist of the horses she still needs to ride and we have fun waiting in line talking about which one she's going to ride next. We're about halfway to our goal.

 

 

 

 

We stopped by the carousel after school today, and Laney got to ride it four times. On her last go-round, she decided to ride the horse that was next to another mother and daughter. I sat that ride out, but I watched as they rode 'round and 'round, and Laney never stopped talking to that poor woman.

Side Story #2: I ran into another mom from Laney's school a few months ago who told me she'd been Laney's buddy on the field trip to the museum. The mom giggled as she reported, "Laney asked me, 'Did you know my mom's name is Brooke and she dyes her hair?'"

As ride #4 ground to a halt, I stepped up onto the carousel to help Laney down from her horse. I looked at that other mom apologetically and asked, "Well, do you know everything there is to know about our family now?" The mom sighed: "Yes. And I'm sorry to hear about your dog."

I would caution Laney about the downfalls of oversharing, but then I remember I write a damn blog and have no room to talk.

Stay tuned to see if we win.

Love,
Mom

Just A Couple Of Boys, Sittin' On Some Beanbags, Watchin' Some Cartoons

The Ten Essentials

Hey y'all - 

When I first started dating your dad, we would go on long hikes and he would tell me all kinds of things I didn't know about hiking and camping and basic survival skills. It wasn't very hard for him to find outdoorsy subjects I was unfamiliar with.  If you blindfolded me and took me shopping, I could tell you which store we were in just by the smell, because (for example) Bed Bath and Beyond smells like a river of liquid soap and Walmart smells like a combination of bread, disinfectant and despair. But that's apparently not a handy skill to have when you're in the backcountry being pursued by a bear.

He would tell me about things called "carabiners" and "Nalgenes" and mentioned that if you're going to spend any extended time in the wilderness, you should pack "the ten essentials." And then I would get home and call my (equally citified) friend Karen and try to fill her in on all that I'd learned, but it was like telling her about some exotic foreign exchange student I was dating whose language I barely spoke:

Brooke: Did you know there are ten things you should always take with you when you go camping, and they're called "The Ten Essentials?"

Karen: (gasp) No! I had no idea! What are they?

Brooke: Um...matches?...and...nine other things. 

Six years later, and your dad and I have two children joining us on our hikes: 

Ella is almost eleven years old with severe arthritis, and still acts like we're the big lumbering idiots who are holding her back. Sometimes, we're such a disappointment to her that she pretends not to know us on the trail.

When we parked at the trailhead yesterday, Laney asked if she could take her princess lunchbox/purse on the hike, and I said what every mother says in this situation (all together now), "You can bring it, but I'm not carrying it when you get tired of it."

She carried it for all two or three miles of our hike, and as we were walking back to the truck, my curiosity got the better of me: "Laney, what is IN that box that was so important you wanted to carry it on our hike?" She opened it up and showed me. "It's a pair of bedroom slippers and two rocks and some Play-Doh... in case we need a snack."

There you have it: The Three Essentials.

Love,

Mom