I spent today alone with my two youngest kids, and I know, this is what my mom did all the time in her mid-twenties, but honestly. I need some sort of medal or cupcake or something. We don’t usually have Sage when Mason is away at his course, but we wanted to have him for Blake’s bowl-thday party. Maggie has been sick these past few days, descending into a snotty, feverish hell of thick coughing and listless snuggling. She’s on the upswing now, but on Friday morning she looked so red-eyed and lethargic that I almost left her in the bed with Mason. I ended up taking her to my parents’ in her footie pjs.
Mason, as you may have gathered from that last sentence, was also sick this week. But where Maggie had the bog-standard cold-and-fever combo, he got a stomach bug on Wednesday night and ended up home in bed for the last two days of the work week. Normally I don’t really keep myself separate from him when he’s sick, but with Maggie suffering my maternal instincts went into overdrive and I slept in the kids’ beds instead of our own. (Under normal circumstances, I might express regret at leaving him alone at night, but I was so afraid of getting sucked into whatever he was stewing in that I didn’t even sound apologetic about taking my teddy bear and sleeping under the Buzz Lightyear comforter.)
Today I had more than enough to keep me busy with the littles. As soon as I had started the laundry, and dressed them, we went to the supermarket to get baking supplies. Maggie refused to either get in the cart or walk on her own, so that was interesting. Fortunately the place was pretty underpopulated, so Sage could drive the cart with a minimum of casualties. Then we went over to Party City, so that I could buy stuff for loot bags. I had tried to get this done on Thursday night, but Blake had a freak out and decided he didn’t want to do loot bags this year. On the way home he realized that he changed his mind, so I promised to do it on my own, hence going the morning of the party.
The grocery store was a stroll in the park compared to taking two impulsive kids to a party supply store with no back up. It all ended up fine, but I did end up buying a few unplanned items, including some stuffies Maggie claimed for her own (which will go to the toy drive, sorry baby). There was one point when I heard music and turned the corner to see my kids playing kazoos. “Guess we’re buying those,” I sighed. Really, though, they were indistinguishable from the kazoos that litter our house, so I wasn’t too surprised.
I decided to have an early lunch as soon as we got home, a good idea that went south when Sage managed to spill chicken noodle soup on two different pairs of pants, leaving him with nothing to wear but his pajamas. Good thing it was early enough to get them into another wash. When it was finally time to change back into his washed pants, I noticed that his underwear and socks were in the bathroom.
“Sage, are you wearing underwear?”
Long pause. “No.”
“Well, go to the bathroom and put on your underwear and socks.”
Another long pause. “Meema, I can’t.”
“Because there’s poo on them.”
At this point, his underwear had been resting on the floor for at least a halfhour, with plenty of time for Maggie to get involved in their story. As we were needed at bowling, there was no time to fix the problem, so new underwear was procured and off we went. Lest you think I have the patience of Job, I should note that there was yelling, both after the second bowl of soup went down and when the fouled underwear was revealed. I am not always mother of the year.
In between spilling soup and abandoning underthings, we all baked birthday cupcakes, frosted them, and applied smarties to decorate. Both kids helped as much as they could, and the egg shell was mostly my fault. If only Blake’s temper had matched the amount of effort we put into his dessert. He was high-strung, kind of mean to Sage, and by the end of the party he was giving me the stink eye pretty much constantly. Then again, he may just have been suffering the effects of 2 hours of bowling, Top 40, pizza, pop, and sugary cupcakes. I know I was.
my little ten pin
For me, the best part of the party was teasing one of my former students, who has a weekend job as a party hero. That, and doing the chicken dance, which I last heard performed by none other than the polka king himself at Oktoberfest. I surely do move in rarefied circles.