Happy Birthday, Nick!

Today's not the official day, it was yesterday, but here are all the highlights:

Nick woke up saying, "Hey Mom, guess what? I'm nine!" and repeated it for most of the day. Still can't believe it no matter how many times he says it.

So after yelling at him and Alex yet again for being unkind to each other, the rest of the day went pretty well. The party was at 4:00, and the guests were:

Aunt Doni and Caitlin

Aunt Janice

Aunt Doranne

Uncle Dan

Grandma

Mr. and Mrs. B, Alex, Emma, Jonathan, Lily

Mom, Dad, Alex, Joe



The menu was:

BBQ chicken

Mac n' cheese

fruit salad

green goop

pretzel jello

coleslaw

The presents were:

Catcher's mitt from Mom and Dad

2 "Michigan Chillers" books from Alex

A Red Wings t-shirt from Grandma, along with a check

A bag of t-shirts and some shorts from Aunt Doranne

A trip to Build-A-Bear Workshop from Aunt Doni

Cash from Aunt Jannie and Uncle Dan

Here's how cute his cake turned out:

All in all, it's good to be nine.

Are these not the most adorable baseball cupcakes you've ever seen in your life? I know, hold your applause, and I will look away modestly. I may not be giving Duff Goldman any competition, but in my house today, especially in the eyes of my newly nine-year-old son, I am the "Ace of Cupcakes"!

But like most things in life, if I only showed you the good stuff, you would have a false idea of my culinary talents, and that's sort of scummy. So, in the interest of equal time, let me share with you my lovely pretzel jello:

Somehow, I managed to get the jello UNDER the pretzel layer, the pretzels in the middle, and the cream cheese and berries laying naked and exposed on top. The potluck gods would have my head!

Honestly, I thought that by the time I had reached my advanced age and skill level in the kitchen, I would not have this type of outcome anymore. Maybe it's just God's way of keeping me feeling young and inexperienced, like adult acne or bad hair days. Boy, if that's the case, I think I'm regressing to about age 5!

Now, here are three things that I made that I'm positive will turn out well:

In the good ole summertime...

It's official: summertime is here. Do you know how I know? Because I locked the kids out of the house today after giving them $1 apiece, and told them to get lost. Maybe I was a bit nicer, and said, "Happy exploring!" but the thought was the same. They were not allowed to come home for at least an hour, and were required to be on their bikes the whole time.

Can you tell that I am getting a little twitchy with the Playstation/Disney Channel/general crap the kids have been doing so far this summer? I remember when cartoons were only played on Saturday mornings, so once we woke up in the summer, out of the house we went. To the library, to the pool, to the corner store.

Now my kids wake up at noon and lay like giant slugs if given the opportunity. Ugh.

Hence, my lockout episode. I will try to find them some cool things to do, but if all else fails, I'm locking their little unimaginative butts out.

Pop Psych

I finally finished A&P II! Yippee! I thought I was getting a "B" but somehow some way I managed an "A". So now I am trying to figure out what to do with all the room in my brain that was being spent in constantly feeling as if I didn't know enough to pass Anatomy, and needing to continually whip out "Martini's Atlas of the Human Body" at inconvenient times just to cram some more book learnin' in. I know what I know, and the professor says I know enough. Huh.

Tomorrow I start my Psychology class. The last time I took any Psych was when people were still saying "psych!" when they were messing with you. I know, I date myself. I began to read the first chapter of the book, and I am trying really hard not to get a bad attitude just from the introductory material. Such as, "When rearing children, it is always best to ignore bad behavior, since that is what will be rewarded when you give it attention. Far better to focus on the behavior you wish your child to emulate." Seriously?? My kid is throwing rolls across a restaurant or heaving himself onto the floor, and I'm just gonna look the other way? Umm, let me think about that...no.

I think, though, that this is where all the crappy parents have come from. (I know that was bad grammar, but tough tots.) Really, if everyone who has been college educated in the last twenty years has taken these classes, and believed everything that has been taught there, no wonder they are in a dither about when to potty train, whether to spank, allowing their kids to say "I hate you", or any number of other pitfalls. I'll tell you when my kids can express their hatred toward me: When I can reciprocate. Until then, we will all make nice even if it kills us.