Knowing that the Tooth Fairy is about to visit is a very exciting feeling.
What I want to know is this: why do my babies have to keep on growing up so quickly? I’m pretty sure I just ovulated…
Alternate Title: The Party Edition! (woot! woot!)
Despite being up until nearly 3am the night before (a night which included me doing “the skinny arm” with Jenny, The Bloggess) -
- I managed to get up early enough to be downstairs by 8:30am to meet Karen and have my photo taken. I can’t deny it, I was nervous. I’m the type of person who ends up looking like Chandler from Friends when faced with a camera.
(I laughed SO HARD at this episode.)
Karen is remarkably easy to like, so the photo shoot was quick and easy. I was only a little nervous about having someone stand over me with a camera while I posed in a very busy public place. Karen kept me engaged in conversation while she shot which made it easy for me to let go of my nervousness and just have fun with it. When she showed me the picture she liked best, I was stunned. Surely this wasn’t the face of a woman running on 4.5 hours of sleep. Surely this wasn’t the face of a woman constantly kept on her toes editing herself out of bad picture after bad picture. This wasn’t a picture of me, surely. But, as I looked closer, I saw that it was, indeed, me. Plain, simple me. Karen must be some kind of a magician or something.
Thank you, Karen! There are no crazy eyes to be seen in this picture!
Karen included me in her 1000 Faces gallery and even did a write-up about her shoot with me. You can find it here.
AND, though I didn’t think it was possible, Karen took her awesomeness to a whole new level with this video she compiled of the pictures she shot during BlogHer. Amazing. You have to check it out! (psst – I’m in it! So cool!)
The rest of the day passed by quickly. I managed to eat both breakfast and lunch (go, me!), took a bit of a break in my hotel room to recharge and take a couple of shots of the view, -
(These were taken from the 25th floor and look how high the buildings go! I’ve never seen so many massively tall buildings all together in my life. It’s a trip, that’s for sure.)
- met the amazing and inspiring Anissa (and I’m still kicking myself for not getting a photo) and took in a couple more sessions, including an awesome one on humour blogging. Before I knew it, it was time for dinner!
My roommate, henceforth to be known as Andrea-with-an-accent, won a dinner for four at Etrusca and invited me as one of her guests.
(Photos taken by the above-mentioned Andrea-with-an-accent!)
The meal included an appetizer, main course, dessert and a bottle of wine, all of which were delicious. Even better than the food was the chance to meet two more wonderful women! Erin from Tales from a Marketing Mama and Sarah from Real Life were as charming and lovely in person as they are on their blogs.
After dinner, it was time to let my hair down and party it up at the various cocktail parties. As exhausted as I was by this point, I wasn’t going to miss these parties for the world.
I glammed myself up with glowsticks and danced at the Sparklecorn party.
No, really. I did. Here’s proof!
(What? That’s proof! My feet + the dance floor = dancing. It’s true!)
I ate Sparklecorn cake and didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty about it.
I hugged on the always sweet and wonderful Katie from Motherbumper, a fellow Canadian and someone I’d been lucky enough to meet once before.
At the CheeseburgHer party, I decorated and donned a McDonald’s bag:
(Oh, yeah. There were beds flanking the dance floor. Not sure what they had in mind for them, but boy were they comfy!)
I danced with my new (and awesome!) friends Patty from NYC Girl at Heart:
As Cape Cod Turns and Melisa from Suburban Scrawl:
and Li from Her Deep Thoughts:
Look at me! I’m dancing!
You know it’s a good party when hundreds of women (and a few men!) purposely put bags on their heads and dance around.
And now, let’s play the “name the awesome bloggers I got to meet” game.
#1. 
Hint: Y from Joy Unexpected
#2. 
Hint: BOSSY!
#3. 
Hint: Adam Avitable, Amy from The Bitchin’ Wives Club and, oh look! BOSSY!
Later, a bunch of us took over some couches in the lobby and chatted until the wee hours of the morning.
Sunday morning was full of mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was completely exhausted and altogether partied-out. On the other, I felt like I had barely even scratched the surface of what BlogHer ’10 had to offer. (Never mind the fact that there is still so much of New York that I desperately want to see!). I hadn’t even left yet and already, I was missing my new friends! In hindsight, I guess that’s the mark of a good conference. Always leave ‘em wanting more.
I’m really hoping that I am able to hit BlogHer ’11 next year, with my roomies by my side. While far too short, it was definitely one of the biggest, best experiences I’ve had in my life to date. Well played, BlogHer. Well played.
On Friday morning, I had planned to go to a BlogHer first-timers meet and greet between 7-8am. Following that was the newbie breakfast from 8-9am. When I squinted blearily at the clock, the numbers 8:47 glared angrily back at me. Oops. (To say that I’m not a morning person is putting it mildly.)
I showered, dressed and made my way downstairs to see if there was any breakfast left to be had (there wasn’t). Thankfully, I was able to score a coffee and I retreated back to my room to regroup for the day. I opened my Twitter (since my fracking phone service abandoned me at the border) and found a message from my roommate Momo letting me know where she was. Armed with an ally, I dragged my introvert self back down to the session room (late) and pulled up a section of carpet.
In a matter of moments, it was time for lunch and, attaching myself like glue to my gracious roomie, I filled my plate and sat down in the ballroom to eat.
After lunch, Momo and I made our way to the nearest Staples so that I could pick up my replacement business cards. We figured we’d be there and back in no time because we had a native New Yorker tell us, “Oh, it’s only three blocks away! No problem!” What she forgot to mention was that when a New Yorker says something is “only three blocks away!” what that New Yorker really means is, “three blocks to me, a million, zillion blocks to you! Muahahaha!” Sixth avenue became Fifth avenue and we figured we were almost there until Fifth avenue became Madison, which became Park which became Lexington which then FINALLY became Third. Then we had to navigate about fifty kajillion STREETS until we arrived at Staples.
(I guess New Yorkers don’t count all the “word” streets as actual blocks.)
(Hi Patty!)
Looking back, I think forgetting my business cards at home was actually a blessing in disguise because I don’t know if I would have had much of a chance to hit the streets of New York otherwise.
(Wow, New York has a lot of pigeons!)
(I’m pretty sure the closest I’ve ever come to seeing a pigeon before now is watching Bert from Sesame Street do his fancy little jig.)
(We have Seagulls here. It’s no better, trust me.)
Following an afternoon session, it was time for the Voices of the Year Community Keynote, Art Auction and Gala. For me, it was definitely a must-attend evening. I sat in the front row as I listened to speaker after speaker present her (or his, in one case!) chosen post from the stage. There was everything from same-sex marriage to breast cancer survival to talk of vaginas and even a New Moon rap. I laughed. I cried. I laughed until I cried. Most of all, I was deeply moved. It was an amazingly empowering feeling to know that these women (and man!) were bloggers, just like me. Their voices were heard and recognized. Those posts (and later, readings) forever impacted the lives of those who were lucky enough to witness them.
A post by Momo was chosen as a finalist and her words inspired a wonderful piece of art:
Art inspiring art. It makes me happy!
As I was walking through the art exhibit, Momo exclaimed, “Oh, there’s Karen! Let’s get in line!”
Karen is a blogger, a photographer (currently working on a project entitled 1000 Faces), an artist and a seeker of beauty. Actually, scratch that. Karen is a finder of beauty. In everything and everyone she sees, Karen finds beauty. I think she’s so successful at it because she embodies it so completely. I’ve never met anyone quite like her before. Karen is all long, lithe limbs, grace and composure. She’s kindness and no-nonsense mixed with a healthy dose of sass. She’s beautiful, inside and out.
On Friday night, Karen was spreading her message of empowerment by creating word art on the arms, legs, collarbones and backs of women. I watched women walk away, smiling, with words like empowered, strong, love and heart scrolled beautifully on their skin and wondered dubiously what Karen would choose to paint on my skin. As I got closer to the front of the line, I realized with horror that Karen wasn’t the one choosing the words to paint on these women. She was asking them to choose. I looked at Momo in shock, completely at a loss as to what on earth I’d ask Karen to paint, and did what I do best: make jokes.
“Maybe I’ll get her to write, ‘good enough’ on my arm,” I laughed. Momo laughed, shook her head and essentially told me that I was acting like a twit. Easy for her to say! She already had the perfect sentiment – a heart in honour of her amazing, heart-stealing son. I didn’t have anything specific in mind and I’m most definitely not used to shining a spotlight on myself.
When it was my turn to have Karen paint on me, Momo brought Karen up to speed on my little joke. “Can you believe she actually said that?” Momo cried with an impish smile in my direction. I was speechless at the fact that Momo, my dear, sweet roommate and twin sister MOMO had thrown me under the bus that way and I could only look at Karen with a shrug and a guilty smile.
There were no smiles in return from Karen. She shot me a side-eye and exclaimed, “Are you crazy? There is no way I’m writing that on your body. And just for suggesting it, you’ve lost the right to choose your words.”
With one last side-eye for good measure, Karen picked up her brush and began to paint.
When she was finished, I looked at my arm and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Uncommonly beautiful? Me? Never once ever in my life have I ever though about myself that way. Ever. I was equal parts mortified and giddily happy. “Thank you so much,” I whispered as I walked away.
“I don’t ever want to hear those other words come out of your mouth again!” Karen shot back.
A few minutes later, in an unusual burst of braveness, I blurted to Momo, “Do you think she’ll take my picture? I think I’m going to ask her!”
Karen didn’t even blink before replying, “Of course I will! Meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning!”
(The results of that little lesson in self-worth will be showcased in Part 3 for anyone interested in seeing what a photoshoot with me as the subject ends up looking like.)
As uncool as it may sound, I was so happy after meeting Karen (which never would have happened the way it did if it weren’t for Momo stepping up and forcing me to acknowledge that I have self-worth too, just the same as anyone else) that I felt like I was floating on a cloud for the rest of the night.
Momo and I met up with another of our roommates, an exhuberant, full-of-life girl by the name of geekbabe and a few other friends to head to a bar somewhere in Manhattan where the beer cost $10 a pop. We talked, laughed, joked, drank ridiculously expensive alcohol, made quiet fun at the skanky outfits on some of the girls walking around, bonded with other drunk girls in the horrifyingly bad smelling bathroom and just about got run over by about fifty seperate cars in our attempt to hail a cab back to the hotel. Then, at approximately two in the morning, I stood in line with two people I met for the first time just hours before, to buy meat from a cart on the street which we then successfully snuck into the hotel bar to eat with the rest of our crew.
I believe it was called Halal and it was a mixture of ground chicken and lamb, along with rice, cheese, lettuce, a yogurt dipping sauce and a hot sauce so hot that after one taste off the tip of my finger, I was convinced that my face was melting off. Maybe it was the fact that I was high on life, or a little tipsy, or just ridiculously tired, but it was the best meat-from-a-cart-in-the-street that I’ve ever tasted. And I’m not just saying that because it’s the only meat-from-a-cart-in-the-street that I’ve ever tasted.
When we had finished our late-night-snack, my roommates and friends seemed like they were ready to party all night and I decidedly wasn’t, so I excused myself and headed off to bed.
Despite the fact that I don’t even remember falling asleep, I managed to get up in time to meet Karen for my impromptu photo-shoot the following morning. (Because the early morning after a late night of drinking and debauchery is always the best time to have your portrait taken, am I right?)
Part Three (the final chapter) of my BlogHer ’10 experience is coming up next! 
I’ve been home from BlogHer ’10 for three (and a half) days and I’m still processing everything that happened during the two (and a half) days I was there. I didn’t think it was possible for so many life-changing events to occur in such a short time-span, but there it is. I am changed. A conference of this type will do that to a person and I am so very grateful for it.
In order to get through this and not forget anything, I’m going to have to think linearly. I’m going to go through my experience as it happened and when I’m finished, I will likely dedicate some separate posts to individual people, (not to mention my overly-analyzed emotions) so bear with me my lovelies.
My trip to New York was uneventful until I arrived at LaGuardia airport and realized that not only had I forgotten to figure out a way to make my Canadian cell phone work in the United States (and was therefore phone-less the entire weekend), my laptop wouldn’t connect to the free airport wifi. After several minutes of silent internal panic, I did the only thing I could and purchased a phone card with which to use the nasty public pay phone as I also had no American change on my person. I called my cab-share buddy and, upon receiving her business card, realized that my own were sitting on the kitchen counter. At home. 2000 miles away. Fantastic. I sighed in defeat, fished out my camera and began taking pictures in the cab, all the while trying to talk myself down from an epic anxiety attack. Thankfully, I was able to get to the Hilton in one frazzled, slightly sweaty piece.
I checked into my room and opened my laptop, attempting in vain to connect to the complimentary BlogHer wifi. Failing that, I used my phone card (on which I still have tons of minutes, so I may start randomly calling my newfound friends with it!) to call my husband and moan about how I had made the worst mistake ever in coming to New York by myself and why on God’s green earth did I ever think this was a good idea? Calm as ever, Lucky told me that once I’d had a moment to recover from my trip, I’d remember why I’d come and everything would be fine.
I took a few minutes to just breathe, trying to collect myself, and then I took the plunge and called my roommate to alert her to my presence.
“You’re here! I’m coming up!” she exclaimed and a few minutes later, she breezed into the room and enveloped me in a warm hug. Until that moment, I don’t think I had taken a complete breath since I wheeled my little suitcase off the plane an hour or so earlier. There’s just something innately kind about her, my lovely Momo Fali, which calmed me right down. I felt like I had known her all my life and thanks to her wonderfully supportive presence, I decided that I’d wasted enough time spazzing out in my hotel room and it was time to do what I had come here for: meet some fabulous people and have a good time.
Momo Fali and me, on my first official trek out into the world of BlogHer. This photo alone is proof of the changes I’ve been making in my life as the “old” me would never have posted a picture which showcased the chubby face and body in such an obvious way. Still, the gatefulness on my face for having found a friend is an obvious indicator of my mood at the moment, and so I am attempting to look past my imperfections and see what is truly there – me with a wonderful friend who didn’t think twice at taking me under her wing and making my trip a good one.
The rest of Thursday night is something of a blur but I do remember meeting another of my roommates, who instantly charmed me with her sweetness (not to mention her adorable southern accent.) In that moment, I knew that my BlogHer experience would be nothing short of amazing because if I’d managed to score two kind and wonderful women as roommates, how could I not find more of the same within the walls of this hotel? The three of us chatted for awhile before calling it a night. (Our fourth roommate didn’t arrive until after we’d gone to sleep and so I didn’t have a chance to meet her until Friday morning).
I’ll be back soon with Parts two and three!
Ten years.
8 jobs.
7 cars.
5 pets.
3 houses.
2 children.
1 wonderful marriage.
Countless memories, adventures, joys and accomplishments.
Limitless love and happiness.
Happy 10th Anniversary, honey! Here’s to many, many more. I love you!
My whole life, I’ve struggled with self-esteem and body issues. My inner critic has always been very vocal and I’ve spent years beating myself up over what I perceive to be my numerous shortcomings. I’m too tall. My shoulders are too broad. I’m too fat. My profile is horrendous. My nose is terrible. Heck, my whole face is horrible. I hunch over like I should be ringing the bell at the Notre Dame Cathedral. Et cetera ad nauseum.
I’m not sure when this negative self-talk began, but I’ve been self-conscious and self-critical since at least the age of eight or nine. What started as a single errant thought, “hey, I’m taller than almost everyone, I guess that’s why I’m always stuck in the back row!” turned into, “I’m too tall. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not thin enough. I’m not good enough. I’m the most horrifying creature on the planet. OMG, stop looking at meeee! I’m so glad that I’m hiding in the back row!”
It’s a vicious cycle, this negativity. I’ve missed out on a lot of joy because of the voice in my head, mocking me. It’s a brutal, exhausting way to live life.
The older I’ve gotten, the more outgoing and friendly I’ve become. I’m making valiant attempts to override the negative thoughts running rampant in my mind and I’m stepping outside of myself more often. I enjoy myself with friends and family and will all but forget the voice in my head until something happens to bring it back to the forefront of my mind. I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, or see an unfortunate photo of myself. The goings-on in my brain are positively appalling when I have to undertake the hateful task of trying on clothes.
Over the past few years, I’ve been dealing with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and the havoc that it’s been wreaking on my body. I’ve gained weight and feel frumpy and unattractive. People talk about “mom jeans” like they’re a specific brand with a specific frump-cut but the truth is that mom jeans don’t look that way because of a specific design, they just look that way on some people’s bodies. Like mine. I put on my mom jeans and then try to find the longest shirt I can to cover them up. Having these extra pounds on my body has only served to amplify the voice inside my head. It has taken on an “I told you so!” kind of attitude.
Recently, though, I’ve had a bit of an epiphany. It came in the form of a book that I was asked to review, which is based on a website with a beautiful message. As I began to read the book and the stories of the women inside, my chest began to feel full. I felt happy and accepting of myself. I realized that I had been trapped in this emotional negativity for so long that I had stunted myself. Emotionally, in regard to my outward appearance, I was stuck in my adolescence. I realized that I wanted to help spread the message of love and acceptance to other women in the hopes that I could help just one person break free of the same emotions I was feeling. I put a post-it pad and a small purple marker in my purse so I could put random “You’re perfect just the way you are!” messages up in change rooms and bathroom mirrors when I went out. The more I read the book, the better I felt about myself. It’s funny that such a seemingly small, insignificant thing could make such a drastic difference to my outlook, but I’m grateful for it.
I decided to look at some photos of myself from back when I was feeling the most awkward and unattractive. Photos of my profile and my most hated feature: my nose. I tried to look at the photos objectively, as opposed to reacting the way I always have in the past – with embarrassment and disgust. Funnily enough, I looked at those pictures as though I was looking at a different girl and couldn’t find a thing wrong with them.
Frankly, I’m surprised that I didn’t rip this photo up and burn it years ago, because it’s exactly the type of picture that would have had me moaning about all of my many inadequacies, head in hand. The horror!
When this was taken, I was young, thin and in love. Yet, when I saw it, all I saw were bug eyes and a too-pink face (not to mention the nose). Looking at it now, I wonder why I spent so much time and energy beating myself up when I looked perfectly fine…
This is more or less the last time my stomach saw the light of day.
Better cover it up! What if I look FAT?
I found myself being dragged down with my exhausting negative talk even when looking at photos of my wedding! What a time to beat up on one’s self…
Fat! Ugly! Double chin! The nose! Aaah!
Looking back at all of these photos now with my fresh outlook, I don’t see any of the things I was so self-conscious of before. I see big, brown eyes and beautiful cheekbones. I see a kind, caring person. I see someone who should have given herself the benefit of the doubt. If I had it to do over again, armed with the knowledge I have now, I think I would have enjoyed my life a lot more.
I’ve always worked out and tried to eat the right type of foods because I felt that I needed to be thinner to be good enough. And at night, after I had exercised and eaten properly all day, I would sabotage myself by eating chocolate. Not surprisingly, the extra weight stayed on my frame. Over the last little while, I’ve stopped exercising and eating right for all the wrong reasons, and begun doing them because I want to be healthy and treat my body well. In the last week, I’ve dropped 4 pounds because I haven’t felt that weird pull to sabotage my own efforts. I’m thinking of all the positive things that are happening – my back isn’t hurting and I have more energy – and that’s what’s motivating me. I don’t want to know what the number on the scale reads and I don’t have a magical weight that I want to reach. I want to be pain-free and happy. That’s it. It’s much easier for me to get on the treadmill or leave that bag of chocolate chips on the store shelf when I think of it that way. It’s just too bad that it’s taken me 34 years to get to this point!
When I took the time to think about the type of friends I am most drawn to and why, I realized that I don’t become friends with people because they are super-model skinny and gorgeous, with flawless makeup and bodies. I become friends with women because they exude kindness and happiness. I am happy to be around them because of who they are inside, not because of the way they look on the outside. I made the conscious decision that I need to stop putting myself down and start accentuating the positive. I’m not the thinnest or most beautiful woman in the world, but I have family and friends who love and want to be around me anyway. Clearly, I’m the only one obsessed with how many pounds I need to lose or wondering whether or not a nose-job might turn me into the beautiful swan I’ve always wanted to be. Plus, there will always be someone prettier and thinner than me, no matter what I do to change my appearance. I like who I am on the inside and I need to let go of the insecurities of who I am on the outside.
What I need to work on now, today, is accepting myself for who I am. I know that in ten or twenty years when I look back at photos of myself taken in 2010, the imperfections that I feel are so jarringly obvious now won’t look that way any longer. I need to take a step back and see myself as others see me – as a person like any other. How vain must I be if I’m assuming that everyone is looking at me, judging everything about me? They’re not and they never have. I am more than my looks, or my weight, or the width of my shoulders. I am me and obsessing over the things I’d like to change is a waste of my valuable time. Time I could be using to live my life to the fullest. It’s a difficult journey, this self-discovery thing. But, as I’m slowly finding out, it is so worth the trip.
For Canada Day this year, I convinced Lucky to leave work early so we could go together to check out the various patriotic events in the city. We had initially planned to do the standard face-painting-patriotic-tattoo-sticking-jumpy-house-jumping-cotton-candy-eating thing at a park in town. When we got there, however, we noticed a CARNIVAL!! across the street and abruptly changed course. There’s really nothing like spinning your kids all around for a few hours to subdue the little characters into blissfully quiet silence for the rest of the day.
We started them out gently on the swing ride. Logan has freaked out mid-ride in the past, forcing the operator to let him off lest he die! right! there! but I remain convinced that the only reason he did so was because a) the ride was bigger and b) he allowed himself to get all worked-up beforehand. This time, there was a very short line (less time for him to think about the certain doom that lay ahead) and the operator was letting kids on the ride as we walked up. Lily passed her tickets over like a pro and trotted over to the first swing she saw. Logan started backing up, mumbling something about maybe not wanting to go on this ride after all.
“Oops! Too late!” I exclaimed, giving him a little nudge forward. “Your sister is already on! Can’t let her go by herself! Don’t hold up the line!”
(I know. I’m a super great mom. I’ll let you in on my secret later.)
Logan ambled over to the swing beside his sister, throwing dubious glances at me over his shoulder.
“Woo hoo! This is great! Right on!” I called to him. “Don’t listen to that little voice inside telling you to run away! Self-preservation is highly overrated!”
(Okay, fine. I may not have uttered that last part. I’m not completely heartless.)
By the second revolution, Logan had clearly decided that the ride wasn’t out to prematurely end his life and flashed a happy thumbs-up on his way by.
Yaaaaay! This is fun!
Ride number one was a success!
The kids went on a couple of tame, kiddy rides before Logan decided that he wanted to tackle the Gravitron. Not even Lily felt brave enough to tackle the Gravitron. A big spaceship-thingy that sucks you to the wall and holds you there while spinning like a top? No thank you!
Logan was unwavering in his decision to go on, though. I worried that he’d completely lose it when the door shut, but a couple of kids promised me that they’d ride beside him and he’d have the best time ever, so I bit my tongue and sent him on his merry way.
Baaaaaaarffffffffff…….
Logan bounded off the ride like a jumping bean and exclaimed, “Hey, Mom! Did you know that if you turn yourself upside-down in there, you stick to the wall? Upside-down? It was awesome!”
“Just make sure you turn yourself right side-up again before the ride stops or you’ll land on your head!” I told him, grinning like a fool because my kid was actually enjoying himself! On rides! Maybe Disney World wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all!
By this point, we were running low on tickets and the kids were running high on adrenaline. They decided that they were ready to take on the giant Hurricane. Lily barely met the height requirement to ride, but the fact that she could hardly see over the front of the car didn’t stop her from hopping right in like a champ.
It wasn’t until the lap bar had been snapped into place that the kids started to wonder whether or not they had made the best choice in riding the Hurricane.
Uh, Mom?
We’re wondering whether or not we made the best choice here…
If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you for the rest of your life…
The ride filled up quickly and before we knew it, they were off.
Logan: Holy crap! Why am I on this death trap?
Lily: What? I can’t see a thing!
*terrified silence*
Not a peep was to be heard from either one of them and Lucky and I strained to catch a glimpse of their tiny little faces. All we could gather was that the pair of them were plastered to the outside edge of the car, frozen into absolute stillness.
Ruh-roh.
When they made their way off the ride, I asked, “So, how was it?”
How do you think it was, you crazy woman?
“It was the worst ride in the world, MOM! I hated it!” Logan exclaimed in disgust.
Let me just get back to you when I can stand up straight without falling over, mmmkay?
“Not so fun,” Lily replied somberly.
The only upside to the Hurricane was that it provided Lucky and me with the perfect segue into talking about our upcoming trip to Disney World.
Me: The rides at Disney are so much better than these ones!
Lucky: Right! They’re way smoother and won’t squish you to the sides or anything!
Me: Yeah! If you can ride this ride, you can take anything Disney World has to dish out!
Lucky: Exactly! The rides at Disney are all fun!
Me: And totally won’t hurt you at all!
Lucky: And you’ll have the best time EVER!
Kids: Can we just lay down somewhere for a few minutes? You know, just to catch our breath? Ooh! Look at that lovely bench!
The kids capped off their riding experience with one (smaller!) last (and slower!) ride and then climbed exhaustedly into the car. Needless to say, the rest of our evening was quiet and mellow and bedtime was a breeze.
I was left wondering why I couldn’t get them to go on MY favourite ride, though.
Any ideas?
On Friday afternoon, Logan had his much-anticipated birthday party. Knowing how difficult it is to keep boys entertained for any length of time, I got smart this year and held the party at an indoor playground. Here’s how the party was laid out:
4:00pm-5:00pm – arrival, check-in and playtime!
5:00pm-5:45pm – party room for pizza, cake and presents
5:45pm-6:00pm – playtime while laser tag is being set up
6:00pm-6:15pm – laser tag!
6:15pm-6:30pm – video games and going home!!
Looking at the schedule, you’d think that the party was too short. You’d think that there was no way that the boys would be able to fit in all the fun they’re capable of having in just 2.5 short hours. You’d think that a group of ten boys would be able to keep themselves entertained at a giant playground for longer than thirty minutes. You’d think that, but you’d be so wrong. Every one of those kids lined up at the concession stand after exactly half an hour so that they could lament to their party coach just how boooored they were.
Thankfully, the above-mentioned party coach was fifty shades of awesome and immediately threw down the gauntlet.
“I bet you can’t beat me to the top of the playground,” he taunted with a grin.
A rousing game of tag with a real, live teenager was just what the boys needed to get back into the spirit of things. They played happily, but only as long as the much-admired party coach, or “Coach,” as he was dubbed, played with them.
Hey, Coach! Come get me!
Coach! You’re it!!
Where’s Coach?
The girls, on the other hand, could have admired their reflections in the fun-house mirror all day and night without ever losing interest.
That’s just the difference between boys and girls, I guess.
The party venue was fantastic until we were ushered into the party room and soundly closed in. If you’ve ever wondered exactly how much noise ten boys and two girls can produce, suffice it to say that it’s a lot. A whole lot. It was a struggle to keep those boys focused long enough to eat their dinner and sing Happy Birthday to Logan. They were just itching to get back out to the playground again. (Funny how a place so darn boooring still managed to have so much appeal.)
The boys were getting so unruly that at one point, Logan (who has a hard time processing really loud noises), clapped his hands over his ears and yelled, “Be quiet! You’re too LOUD!”
With the food consumed and the presents opened, the boys seemed to realize that the party would soon be drawing to a close and tumbled out of the party room like a litter of puppies, eager to get back to the business of playing. The word “bored” wasn’t uttered again as the kids were desperate to fit as much fun as possible into the last minutes of their party experience.
Laser tag and video games were played, tickets were redeemed for crappy little prizes, and kids dripping with sweat ran amok until, one by one, the parents began to arrive.
After the last kid was picked up, our little family exited the party site, ears ringing, and headed home – exhausted but happy.
The best part of all? We left the mess behind us!
Can I get an amen?
Last weekend, my precious, firstborn baby boy, turned eight. We had a get-together with the grandparents, complete with generic cherry chip cake, on his actual birthday.
Ooh! Look who has TWO girlfriends!
His birthday party is today after school. I booked it at a local indoor play-place where Logan and his crazy friends can run around like the maniacs they are and not break anything. This kind of party is ideal because:
This year, Logan asked for a Wii remote cake. Considering how much fun I had playing with fondant for his last cake, I figured a Wii remote would be easy! (Certainly, I could have done a better job, but it actually wasn’t too hard, all things considered).
I decided to make the cake three times bigger than an actual Wii remote and baked two chocolate cakes, which I then carved and layered in the right size. Last year, I used premade Wilton fondant, which tastes really, really horrible, so this year, I got smart and made my own from marshmallows and icing sugar.
A lot of my recipes are from American sources, using Imperial measurements. In a country where all the packaging is in Metric, this can be a challenge. The recipe called for a 16 oz package of marshmallows and I’m standing there holding a 400 g bag going, that’s got to be close, right? Considering that the life of a Canadian is a life of hybrid measurements, you’d think that’d I’d just naturally be able to mentally make the conversion, but you’d be wrong. As it turns out, 16 ounces is closer to 450 grams. I’m pretty sure the people who decide on American vs Canadian package sizes are just messing with us.
I was nervous about making my own fondant because I had it in my head that such a task would be really hard! and scary! As it turns out, it was quick and easy. I made the cutest little fondant ball. It’s so soft and smooth and now I just want to hold it in my lap and stroke it like the puppy my husband won’t let me have.
Who’s a cute little fondant ball?
You are! You are!
(I forgot to take photos of my little ball of fondant, so I totally ganked the fondant pictures from the website where I got the recipe. Check it out here. Good stuff!)
I also forgot to take pictures of the cake in progress because clearly, I’m awesome. I made a chocolate layer cake with chocolate frosting between the layers and vanilla frosting on the outside. All homemade and pretty darn good, if I do say so myself!
Then I went to work decorating the cake with the fondant.
Of course, when I look at it, all I see are the mistakes and imperfections that the cake is riddled with. The fondant isn’t completely white because I couldn’t find clear vanilla extract. The fondant isn’t completely smooth because I didn’t warm it up enough in the microwave before rolling it out. Some of the remote buttons aren’t exactly perfect. While I tried to carve and ice the cake so it was perfectly straight and uniform, it ended up looking a little wonky. (Yeah, I know. Blah, blah, blah!)
Logan had a look at it, though, and didn’t see any of those things. What he saw was a huuuge Wii remote cake that looked just like a regular Wii remote! Only huuuuger! He didn’t see any of the imperfections that I saw, which was a good reminder for me to stop obsessing over the little things and just enjoy the cake as a whole. It’s enough to impress an eight year old, Wii-loving boy, so it’s enough for me.
Normally I don’t write about giveaways all on their own, but this is one of my absolute favourites. Head to my giveaway site and comment to win a 16×20 gallery wrap canvas with the picture of your choice on it. Sweet!!
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