Sorry, Honey, it won’t be anything like this


If I seem a little quiet as of late, it is because that two weeks after Christmas, I have to be ready to throw my oldest daughter a birthday party.

Two weeks sounds like plenty of time, but for some reason the week between Christmas and New Year’s just evaporates, and I’m left staring at a birthday coming straight at me. And, so, I like to figure out the details like “where, when, who and what” at the same time that I am shopping online, running to stores, addressing Christmas cards, planning holiday meals and. . .well, you know.

Another thing to know: I almost always host the parties in home. For one, I’m a control freak. Second, I’m cheap. So even though an American Girl Doll store opened not a half-hour’s drive from my home, the thought of spending $450 to usher my daughter and her friends into her 8th year just blows my mind.

So, we’re now leaning toward another DIY event. And, I’m toying with the idea of hosting a good old-fashioned tea party for her and her friends. I’m a bit torn on this because, while I think I could make it fun, it does sounds a bit “quaint” in these days of diva parties. But, I’m pressing forward and looking at as many websites as I can.

Which leads me to the title of this post. I decided to search Google Images for “tea party birthday party” to see how people decorated their tables for these types of events. That was when this photo, from a floral and event decor firm called Botanica, came up:


Whoa. Holy Pink.

But, even better is the copy under the photo which reads:

An 8 year old’s Tea Party at the Four Seasons Hotel. Our client wanted to celebrate her daughter’s 8th birthday in an uncommonly spectacular way. The theme was a formal English Tea Party. When guests arrived, they were given all the materials needed to create their very own Tea Party hat. When the doors to the party were opened, a Harpist played “Happy Birthday”. The table linen was an orange sherbert silk, with an overlay cloth of pink, hand painted silk with orange double faced satin ribbon border. The gold Chiavari chairs were upholstered in Orange Sherbert silk. The back of each chair featured a straw hat adorned with Roses, Hydrangea, and Cymmbidium Orchids. At each place setting, a custom gowned Barbi held her own straw hat covered with seasonal mixed mini flowers (to salute our guest of honor), standing in front of a Topiary of Hydrangea. Napkins were made of Orange Sherbert silk, and placed in a spring colored Manolo Blahnik shoe. The seven main floral arrangements on the guest table, were created off of wig forms which had been covered in hand tinted silk leaves. The hats were made of Ostrich and Maribou feathers, Roses, Hydrangea, Cymbidium Orchids, Peonies, and leaves. To compliment our hat themed floral arrangements, we added 8 hand bags made of woven branches, which had either Pave’ Roses or Tulips. On the perimeter of the room, 8 dress forms were custom made as floral arrangements, in eight seperate floral vignettes which featured more Manolo Blahnik pumps, mini dress forms, and over 3,000 Pink Revel Roses. After Tea and Scones were served, a fashion show was held for each guest to model their hat creation. Each little girl was given a gift, and a “Diva in Training Survival Kit”. We took children’s jewelry, make up and hand bags, and customized the packaging into “Harry Winston”, “Chanel” and “Judith Lieber“. It was the grandest affair any 8 year old (or adult) has ever seen.

A few things come to mind when I read this:

1) I don’t play the harp

2) Did the girls go home with just one Manolo Blahnik pump?

Please feel free to weigh in on any of the above. I’m too stunned to form an intelligent thought.

When Little Boys Attack


D, my lovely, adorable, “let’s kiss Mommy again”, son has a dark side.

  • When he gets mad and frustrated, he calls me a dummy. He can’t say “cat” intelligibly, but he can say dummy clearly, especially when we’re in public and there are lots of old ladies nearby.
  • When he gets REALLY mad and frustrated, he spits. SPITS! If there is any saving grace, it is that he sucks at spitting and really just makes the sound. Plus, he aims at the ground. But, still. . .ick!
  • And then, tonight, he bit Belly in the arm. Really bit her. He has rarely resorted to something so vile as biting, and I’m not sure what ticked him off. According to both him and Belly, he was biting-mad that she put the little figurine of Ariel on top of a plastic chair in the doll house. The nerve.

OK, I joke, but he is really testing my patience. I can handle sibling squabbles, but this went way too far. He may be only four, but he knows he’s doing something wrong.

And, he’s about to find out that this Mommy is no dummy.

Photobucket

didn’t you see what they did to the Abominable Snowman, buddy?

The frustrations of being second

When I found out I was having a third child, I bought a book about birth order right away. Jilly was going to become a “middle child” (gasp!), and I needed to figure out how to help her deal with this. The interesting thing was the book left me with a feeling that the middle kids usually end up pretty well adjusted, with a better sense of self and stronger social connections than first or last borns. Phew!

What I didn’t really consider was how being second, after an Alpha older sister, would affect her. This is a bit ironic since I am an Alpha older sister with a younger sister, and know of plenty of other sister/sister pairs.

I didn’t anticipate her frustration.

Frustration that she cannot make her letters too well (yet). That she doesn’t color in the lines all the time (yet). That she doesn’t sing as loud, jump as high, read as fast as her 2-year-older sister. . .you get the idea.

Even when she doesn’t make a fuss, I may find something that hits me right in the gut. She’ll destroy something that she’s worked hard on, a coloring picture or a page of handwritten letters.


I know that when I gently ask her what’s wrong, or why she scribble over her hard work, I’m likely to be met with loud sobs from a little girl who tries hard, but is two years younger, will always be two years younger.

It hurts my heart.

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We saw one of our favorite kids’ musicians, Justin Roberts, play this past weekend; see what I thought over at Fairly Odd Reviews.