I am coming off a weekend that did not feel like a weekend to me at all. Do "weekends" exist for mothers? I have found that they do not. What in the world me and all these children that have birthdays? Gah. Reprieve!
We had Gray's birthday party yesterday. He had a blast. We stuffed and hung a piñata and everything. I remember thinking in the past who buys these things and then wonders why people get hurt? For the record, only Carter got caught in the bat-swinging crossfire, and he was fine.
(We had originally worried not everyone would get a chance before it burst open but it ended up after many kid turns that the adults had to beat it open in the end.)
(It was fun. Piñatas are totally worth it.)
(Also, they are refreshingly... violent?)
We do no disposables for our parties- means lots of dishwashing and laundry but that's just normal life. We don't have matching drinking glasses or plates, which comes in handy because everyone knows which one is theirs. Win!
It just so happens to be 4:30 am right now and I am (duh) awake in bed with Ivy, Gray, and Carter (all also awake) watching cartoons . And I'm trying to hold
Update. We are now all eating sticky homemade popcorn balls and individual-sized bags of chips. In my bed.
Now this feels like a weekend. Only it's Monday before-the-sun-is-even-up morning. I'll take it.