I know that y’all have been waiting all day for a status report on HOW DID WE SLEEP.
(Really… if that’s what you’ve been doing all day, you need to get a life, because we are not that exciting.)
I am, however, more than happy to tell you that WE ALL SLEPT last night. And we all stayed in our own beds last night. And the night was perfect and every kind of lovely, and WHAT A DIFFERENCE A FULL NIGHT’S REST MAKES, IN TERMS OF HOW YOUR DAY GOES! It’s almost like caffeine doesn’t need to be administered through an IV or an old Albuterol inhaler.
And then I heard on the radio this evening that it’s National Cat Day. I had no idea that this was a real thing, so I was completely unprepared. I didn’t have time to sift through all the National Cat Day party ideas on Pinterest or bake a cake in the shape of a salmon. I didn’t have time to run to Hobby Lobby for fabric to make a pennant banner, and we had no heavy cream to warm up for our saucers.
It’s exactly like no one even cares in this house, as far as the cats’ parties go.
And then, as the fellow on the radio kept talking about this little-known holiday, I learned that for the low, low price of thirty American dollars, there is an organization that will bring you a cat to cuddle in your lap for fifteen minutes, with all of their proceeds going to local shelters. That’s when I decided that Hubs and I should volunteer our very own Cat 1 as a Cuddle Cat. People could wear leather gloves and welding masks, and she could sit in their laps for fifteen minutes (or six-tenths of a single second, which is probably how long she’d make it), because have any of you ever tried to hold onto a love kitten that’s the product of a wolverine and a puma’s romance together?
As it turned out, our celebration for National Cat Day here at home involved me adding more dry cat chow to the girls’ bowl in the laundry room, and I freshened up their water dish. The end. It’s all the partying I was prepared for.
In other news, I have a camera memory card that’s about to explode with pictures of things we’ve done, which can also be labeled as EVENTS MAMA HAS GOTTEN BEHIND ON WITH THE BLOGGING. Honestly, I’m still amazed that I manage to keep up with this blog, because my habit is to JUST QUIT new things. I’ll submit SCRAPBOOKING as the first bit of evidence. I couldn’t commit to keeping on top of it, and I honestly felt like my brain was going to catch fire and explode, leaving an awful splatter pattern on the wall behind me, if I ever had to look at double-sided sticky tape and fancy die-cut machines again, which is why I was blogging the boy’s debut into the world of I CAN FINALLY CRAWL ON MY OWN when he was in grade school.
And then Scrapbooking died at our house.
So, I’m trying diligently to stay on top of all the NOT FALLING BEHIND on the blog. Bear with me.
Last week, the boy’s good buddy, Kellen, turned fourteen. His mama (Sarah) threw a little party to celebrate his birthday, because she was far more prepared with the date than I was with the one for National Cat Day. Sarah had homemade cupcakes with real cream cheese frosting. She had a lemonade stand that was completely Pinterest-worthy, and homemade popcorn that involved a cast iron skillet, with nary a microwave in sight. She had chips and homemade salsa and adult beverages.
And then she pulled out the fancy glasses, because Kellen’s birthday just happened to fall on the day of the solar eclipse.
And then, as boys are prone to doing, their interest in LOOK HOW THE MOON PASSES IN FRONT OF THE SUN LIKE THAT fell to the wayside, and the homemade battle axes, spears, shields and wooden daggers caught their attention.
What we have learned, as these other mamas and I have all raised boys together, is that there is really no age limit to warfare. What was fun when they were all nine years old and battling one another by clubbing each other with sticks and dollar store swords is STILL FUN TO THIS VERY DAY.
I’m sure that all of their battle practice will come in quite handy, in case one of them ever needs to fight… say… a helium-filled Mylar balloon in the darkest part of the night.
Sides were chosen. Alliances were formed. Boundaries were drawn. Enemies were declared.
And then those boys kind of cut loose. We only had one head that took a direct hit from a stick that threatened to split the skull wide open, so us mamas called it a victorious afternoon. In fact, with boys, any afternoon of battling that doesn’t require an X-ray of some kind can be declared one of victory.
And then those fancy, homemade cupcakes were brought out. Everyone sang a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday to Kellen. Thing 2 even chimed in on the choruses, as he sang out, loud and clear for all to hear, “Birthday you! Birthday you!!!!”
My two-year-old watched the other boys swing their spears and axes, and he swung that croquet mallet for all he was worth. Unfortunately, he connected it to the stomach of a nine-year-old. Every ounce of oxygen was knocked out of the poor kid, as he had the wind leave his body completely. He dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks thrown off a building’s rooftop. When he could finally regain enough breath to speak again, all he could moan out was, “The baby tried to kill me!!”
Hubs and I are pretty certain that Thing 2 would’ve made a remarkable Viking.
The boy gave Kellen a T-shirt from the Dr. Who TV series. I have no idea who the doctor is… I don’t watch that one, because science fiction makes me want to beat my own head against a brick wall, but apparently Dr. Who is a huge hit with the 8th grade crowd this year.
Since he wasn’t MY kid, I howled with laughter, because it was frightfully funny.
Do y’all remember how I said that Sarah had a lemonade stand that could’ve been photographed for Pinterest? She had a giant, glass jug of lemonade, that had a spout on it, which could be turned for easy lemonade access. The drink was homemade, with real sugar and real lemon slices, and it sat on a little, metal stand, with pretty drinking glasses on a tray right beside it.
Well, someone introduced Thing 2 to the art of filling his cup with water and then pouring it into the sandbox to make lakes. My toddler was thrilled with this, until his water supply ran low, so, being RATHER RESOURCEFUL, Thing 2 simply began refilling his cup at the lemonade stand, and no adult realized it.
Yes, y’all… MY KID used the beautifully-presented, delicious tasting lemonade to make ponds and riverbeds in the sand. There are no words that describe the full extent of HOW STICKY AND FILTHY HE WAS, when his construction work was all wrapped up.
… and that they were completely naked, because SOMEBODY had licked all their frosting off. There is no physical evidence to suggest who might have done this terrible thing, so who am I to point fingers?!
After that, Thing 2 managed to grab someone’s beer off one of the outdoor tables and slam back a sip, before we manhandled the cup away from him. He simply licked his lips and announced, “Mmm! THAT GOOD!”
We may never be invited back to a party again, which is why we’ll probably end up being crazy cat people, who celebrate National Cat Day alone, at home, with a salmon-shaped cake that’s had the frosting licked clean off of it.
Happy Wednesday, y’all.