Our Puss In Boots Birthday

Leave it to Henry to pick an original party theme. Regardless of how much I begged and pleaded for him to go with Batman or another superhero, ANY superhero, Henry was adamant. "Mom," he'd say, "Puss In Boots has claws AND a sword! He's better than any of the superheros!" How could I argue with that?

If you've followed my blog for awhile then you know how important the cake is to Henry at a birthday party. The party rating hinges on the quality and creativity of the cake. So you can imagine my relief when I picked up the cake Saturday morning and discovered the below magic beanstalk.

 

 

 

And me being the party planner that I am (not), I couldn't stop with the cake.

 

Queso (with miniature swords)

 

Magic Beans

 

 

THE Golden Egg

 

Milk for Puss In Boots and his gang

 

Because kittens love milk...and because milk does the body good. And because we seldom have juice.

 

It was VERY important to Henry that Molly be at his party. I told Henry that because he was turning five, he could invite five friends. Molly was the first "friend" he named. 

 

 

Yep, we're all pretty smitten.

 

For party favors, Henry surprised his guests with Puss In Boots capes and swords. Imagine the volume and craziness of three 5 year-old boys with swords.

 

Mr. Drew

 

Pinata time

 

 

Everyone got excited when Drew, the power hitter, was up to bat.

 

 

All that T-ball practice paid off.

 

Sam had a couple of turns too. I'm not sure the pinata moved, but he did make contact.

 

 

Mr. William

 

 

After the pinata and sugar rush, we had a GOLDEN Easter egg hunt.

 

Henry and William taking inventory on their loot.

 

Happy Birthday to you, Henry!

Refueling with cake and ice cream

 

New toys!

 

They called for reinforcements.

 

Sam was oblivious to the Three Musketeers. That, or he was planning his escape route in the Gator.

 

Clearly, one can never have too many dinosaurs.

 

Molly did the steering, while Sam had his foot on the gas. What a great team!

 

 

The incredible Mrs. Hulk

 

 

 

Molly got to meet her abuelo (Grandpa) this week for the first time! He flew in from Guatemala to be here for Molly's first birthday (April 26th). Such a sweet time in each of their lives. In all of our lives.

 

 

Hide-And-Seek with Uncle Wade

 

 

That's all folks

 

 

 

My Eggheaded Idea

On the eve of Henry's first Easter (about four years ago) I bought a Williams-Sonoma egg decorating kit. And I've been anxiously awaiting the perfect time to pull it out, dust it off, and dig into the dye, the glitter, and the plastic wrappers.

You remember the plastic wrappers, right?! You carefully slipped the plastic patterns over your egg, dipped your hard boiled egg into boiling water, and WALLA! Within seconds, the plastic melted perfectly around the egg making it your masterpiece.

So many fond memories decorating eggs....

Using the wire wand to carefully dip the eggs into the magic water. Water made magic from the tiny dye pellets you dropped into individual glasses and then watched as the pellets fizzed and turned the water into shades of blue, yellow, pink, etc. And then there was the year my mom was actually brave enough to let us blow the yolk out of the egg. Was that ever fun!

Needless to say, I had high expectations for egg decorating this Easter. And I just knew Henry and Sam would love every minute.

First, I prepped the kitchen.

Then, I prepped the eggs.

And before Henry was out of the shower, Sam was ready to dive in. I was so excited! Sam was going to have a ball!!

WRONG.

Sam didn't decorate one egg. Not one. All he wanted to do was drop the eggs into the different cups of water. And when he was done dyeing the eggs, he proceeded to drop them on the floor. Eggs shells and my high expectations were shattered.

And then came Henry from the shower. Henry squelched any last bit of hope I had. It turns out that both boys were much too interested in the dye and coloring the eggs to care anything about the actual decorating part. Henry only made two eggs before he called it quits.

 

Henry dyed his first egg yellow and spelled M.O.M. with pastel stickers. "Mommy. I made this one for you. It says 'MOM'!", he shared. Looking back, I'm sure he was hoping that if he made the first one for me, I'd be so touched that I'd let him leave the table and go back to his dinosaurs.

 

For his second egg, Henry told me he was going to make me a monster. Clearly, this was his way of telling me that my visions of Sugarplums and Easter eggs dancing in my head were being rejected. See the orange one-eyed bearded monster below.

And then boredom took over. Henry had lost all interest.

 

So, there I sat. Alone at the kitchen table, with half a dozen white hard boiled eggs. Wade eventually took pity on me and assisted with my 'henry', 'SAM', and 'MOLLY' eggs. His artistic abilities are better than mine, so he volunteered to free-hand a dinosaur, shark, and daisy for Molly.

After Wade tried coaxing Henry back to the kitchen, Henry swooped up the orange marker, drew a circle on top of an egg and called it a tornado. Yep. He was done.

 

 

 

Although my egg activity was an epic failure, these faces quickly erased any and all disappointment. 

 

Our First Wrinkle

Yes, it's true. Our family has officially experienced our first broken bone. Well, sort of. Sam's right arm didn't actually break. The doctor called it a "wrinkle". So, I guess it's technically our family's first wrinkle. Thankfully, Sam is young, and his bones still very pliable, which prevented an actual crack.

Our little man was so brave. I knew something was wrong right away. There wasn't any major swelling or disfigurement in his arm (of course, there wouldn't be with a mere "wrinkle"), but Sam wouldn't use it. We gave him a sippy cup of milk and my iPhone (two of his favorite things in this world), and he wouldn't touch them with his right hand...and unlike Henry, Sam is right-handed.

So, 30 minutes after his fall, there we sat...in the Emergency Room. There was a full moon that night, so you can imagine the crowd we saw as we patiently waited. By the time they called our name, Sam had fallen asleep in my arms. And I began to doubt my instinct. That our trip to the ER might all be for not...the late night, the $100 co-pay, the germs we were breathing as we sat and waited.

And it wasn't just me. After seeing Sam, our ER doctor doubted any major damage as well. But he opted to proceed with an x-ray, just to be sure. And low and behold, Sam had a wrinkle. After a dose of pain medicine, the ER nurses splinted Sam's arm and sent us home with 1) instructions to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon within the week, and 2) a script for more pain medicine. They warned me that although the fracture wasn't severe, it would be very painful for Sam. But Sam is tough. He refused to take any medication and after 24 hours, seemed oblivious to any pain or discomfort.

It took Houdini less than 12 hours to break free of his splint which sent me into a panic. The earliest I could get an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon was Monday...and it was only Thursday. We were given strict instructions that Sam was to remain in his splint until Monday. Or, he was at risk of fracturing his arm more severely. As hard as I tried to get Houdini back into his splint, he would have nothing of it. And the more I tried, and the harder he fought, I feared I was going to cause more injury.

Thankfully, I've got friends in high places and they were able to squeeze us in early. God bless Dr. Stubbs who saw us during his lunch hour, just before leaving town for the weekend. And yes, you heard right...Dr. Stubbs. Our orthopedic doctor's name is STUBBS. Which reminds me of our local chiropractor in Blackwell, Dr. BONEBRAKE. And my aunt's gynecologist, Dr. HANDS. Not joking.

I digress...

Well, Houdini got casted. He screamed the entire time. Sam HATED his cast...for the first day or two. Now, he hardly notices it. And it certainly hasn't slowed him down. In fact, you wouldn't know his arm was fractured at all if it weren't for the cast.

My gut tells me this may be the first of many fractures (and stitches) for our Sam. Sam, who is only two, has now been to the Emergency Room THREE TIMES. Henry, who is on the verge of five, has been once. Once. This pretty much sums up their personality differences.

 

So, how did the injury happen? Let's just say that warning Sam over and over AND OVER again that the bathtub wasn't a slip-n-slide did no good.

 

 

Date at the Aquarium

It's rare that I get a one-on-one date with one of my boys. But during spring break I got just that. Sam slumber partied with Grandma and Papa in Blackwell so that I could treat Henry to a surprise trip to the Oklahoma Aquarium. Until we parked the car, we was in complete suspense.

 

This fella was over 100 years old.

 

 

A little unsure about turning his back to the sharks.

 

It only took two hours before Henry had had his fill and was ready to pick out a souvenir and grab lunch. His souvenir pick, a tube of alligators.