Several people have already inquired about the absence of a blog last night. PANIC! THE WORLD IS ENDING! (I paraphrase.)
As the party wrapped up, it became readily apparent that this was likely the coldest day in the Bay Area. Ever. Or, it may have been the 102-fever I was festively sporting. Jon sent me off to bed even before the muppets went down. My interweb privileges were revoked for fear of what I may write/text/email whilst delirious.
(Interestingly enough, this was not terribly far off from how I felt two years ago.)
But I wouldnâ€™t want to deprive you crazy folks of the tales involved in celebrating two tiny toddlers second year of life (and making it through)! Not to mention Iâ€™ve gotten rather addicted to this blogging thing â€“ thereâ€™s a high from making people laugh. (Or maybe thatâ€™s the fever talking againâ€¦)
TO THE PARTY:
Yesterday we celebrated the muppets imperfect arrival. Itâ€™s been two years. (HOLY SHIT!) So I set about spending the morning transforming our backyard into Christopher Robinâ€™s 100-Acre Woods. Only in part a tribute to the Winnie we still miss â€“ back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh.
Remind me why I thought a 2-year-old party was a good idea? Related, if your kid has been up since 3 a.m., it’s totally ok to be drinking at noon, right? Really though, does it even count as drinking if youâ€™re alternating between cups of coffee and glasses of wine? (Wait. That part may have just been fantasy.)
Jon wholeheartedly agreed with this assessment. Over the top and ridiculous. Why do toddlers need to have a themed party? He had finally acquiesced to the first birthday party. (Because I didnâ€™t get to celebrate the actual Birth day.)
But if the first party is for parents to celebrate keeping the kid alive for an ENTIRE YEAR, then two years is Double. The. Success.
Plus we have two kids. Who were turning two. (Pretend to follow along with my logic here.)
At 1:30 p.m., Auntie Ivy arrived with the cupcakes. Yay! The party can begin!
At 2 p.m., the muppets woke up. Their eyes went wide with wonder. GrammaJ and PapaStavo were waiting for them. Banners and balloons draped the backyard. And there was a bounce house! (But they were a little skeptical at first. I cannot blame them for this. They were probably concerned about tight air.)
At 2:30 p.m., I was beginning to rethink the sanity of having 25 kids sub-age-5 descending upon my house.
At 3 p.m., we were ready to get this party started.
Thank god for bounce houses. Apparently there is a legal requirement to include a bounce house with every birthday invitation. I mocked this. I will never do so again. There is no better place to corral/contain drunken sailors small crazy people.
Every now and then Iâ€™d seen a young boy child hurled up against the mesh walls. Some woman would yell out a name. It was like roll call by fire.
When the muppets werenâ€™t flinging themselves silly (how far weâ€™ve come from â€œDonâ€™t shake the babyâ€), they were eating. A lot. Those kids can Pack. It. Down. They grazed for over four hours. Consuming cookies, chips, fruit and THREE hotdogs. Theyâ€™re not even 30 pounds yet, yâ€™all! (Well, they very well likely may be now.)
I was passed out by 7 p.m. I woke up this morning at 11 â€“ when I got the first phone call inquiring about my continued existence.
And apparently my boys are all grown up now. When I walked into the living room, Destroy looked up at me, â€œTricia. Hi.â€ Oh so matter-of-factly.
Tomorrow, we turn two! Yay?