It's my party, I'll eat ice cream if I want to.

The new face of 29 (for the 6th year)

I have been celebrating my own birthday all weekend, thank you very much. It really started earlier this week, with frequent reminders to my children that my birthday was on Sunday. Hey, you gotta keep it fresh in their minds. And who else can you bug that much about your birthday without someone telling you to pipe down?

I discovered that Mitchell's added a new ice cream flavor--cake batter. This, my friends, is right up my alley. And with some birthday money specifically dedicated to my Mitchell's obsession arriving in the mail (thank you, Flemings!), He's Just Not That Into You available from the library, and two sisters coming over for pizza and movie night, I requested that we make a party of it. We settled in with our scoops of heavenly goodness and 2 hour-long chick flick. But the new flavor was weird (it had actual cake in it) and the movie was ridiculous (it had the Mac guy in it). So although it was a great way to (start) celebrate(ing) my birthday, I was left a little unsatisfied in the treat department.

Only one way to remedy the situation...go back for more.

I don't care what you think. I am firmly entrenched in my 30's now and I can have Mitchell's two nights in a row if I want. And the second time around (caramel fudge brownie and double chocolate chunk) was everything I wanted it to be. It was the perfect topping on a day of an early-morning 5K with Melissa, Andrew's baseball game, shopping with the girls, and a couple of parties. The weekend of birthday goodness was almost complete....

Today, the day, was comprised of a stressful sharing time, a nap snuck in right after church, and a scrumdillyumptious dinner with the fam. The dinner deserves its own blog post, really. We were fed well. And then my traditional penuche-frosted cake...

Just me and a few of my peeps...photo courtesy of Emma

And now...

...turn out the lights, the party's over. It's going to be a while before I get Mitchell's again. I mean, Jill's birthday isn't for another month...

Summer of "24"

I'm federal agent Mom,
and today is the longest day of my life.

*All events happen in real time.

6:00-7:00 AM Torture begins immediately in early morning exercise class. Despite the extreme physical cruelty, I make it out alive. Barely.

7:00-8:00 AM The insurgents are quiet while I shower and get ready. Are they planning their attack?

8:00-8:30 AM One insurgent is ready extremely early for swim team practice and begins circling me, making silent demands. I diffuse the situation by shooing her from my room.

8:30-9:00 AM We begin patrolling the city streets, dropping off two insurgents at the pool. In an attempt to distract the other two, we head to the beach, where we meet some of my allies. I appreciate the back up. The skies overhead are threatening.

9:00-10:00 AM The insurgents play nicely in the sand with their fellow rebels. Then the rain begins to fall. I worry that the swimmers will be stranded and cold, so I encourage the insurgents to gather their buckets and shovels so that we can rescue their cohorts. They get distracted and take an inordinate amount of time. I must speak strongly in order for them to follow the proper authority.

10:30 AM-2:30 PM We have nothing planned. This is when the rebellion is most likely to arise. Two insurgents are in a constant state of bickering, their technique of choice when it comes to weakening the opposition. I have to run an errand during this time, and take the insurgents hostage in the van. At home, I am tormented by my own boredom, which leads to laziness and a strong desire to eat. I succumb. This could very well be the end of my heretofore successful weight loss attempts. I half-heartily fight off the guilt by telling myself that it's my birthday (on Sunday) and free eating is my gift to myself (along with an extra 5 pounds). That war will never be over.

2:30-3:00 PM I decide the best technique is to divide and conquer. I recruit my newest ally to harbor two insurgents, while one insurgent has piano lessons, and the other insurgent stays home to play with a couple of younger cohorts. This doesn't go over well. One insurgent tries to negotiate the terms of the arrangement, and not without a struggle.

3:00-4:00 PM I try to keep the younger insurgents at bay with some sensory input: a plastic container with whole wheat berries (a la a preschool sand/rice table). However, while I am battling a biochemical agent on the stairwell banister, the insurgents cause an explosion. In a surprising twist, one insurgent shows a change of heart and volunteers to vacuum.

4:00-6:00 PM It is time to rescue my fellow agent from the other insurgents. Before leaving, I stop in the bathroom. The youngest insurgent follows and begins interrogating me through the door. (This is where Jack Bauer gets it right. There is no time for pit stops.) There is a bit of down time while the insurgents play outside. My ally and I regroup with talk of non-terrorist activity. Upon leaving, we phone ahead to my partner, who is now back at base. He agrees to prepare the insurgent's last meal.

6:00-7:00 PM Before the meal is served, one insurgent decides to take some irrational anger out on the piano, pounding out "Can-Can" and "Black Forest Polka" for the one millionth time. This is the equivalent of Chinese water torture. She resists numerous requests for her to stop. The meal is surprisingly uneventful.

7:00-8:00 PM I set the terms for TV watching tonight. The insurgents must complete their after-dinner chores and shower within a set amount of time. One insurgent decides she is also an agent and begins ordering another insurgent around. Her privileges are threatened, but she gets it under control. However, this attempt at policing distracts her to the point that she places the bowl of leftover food in the sink and turns the water on it. For the second night in a row, the insurgent foiled my plans for a future meal. The insurgents are successful in meeting my terms and the TV watching begins.

8:30-9:00 PM We herd the insurgents upstairs to read from the agency's instruction manual, but are interrupted by a call from my Counter-Terrorist Unit leader. During the call, the insurgents scatter, and by the time the call is over, the rebellion is in full force. We squeeze one verse a piece from each and incarcerate them in their beds. It seems my work may be done.

9:00-10:00 PM Not to go down without a fight, one insurgent makes two more trips downstairs to bombard me with unnecessary questions. I am just about to surrender when she slips back upstairs, and I am finally left to debrief with my partner and my shows.

10:00-11:00 PM In the still of the night, I consider the foe. They are worthy opponents, with clever tactics and surprise attacks. Like Jack, will I be destined to face the same assaults day after day, all summer long?

Will it kill me in the end?

Will I conquer the enemy?

Or will I just walk off into the sunset...

The wait is over.

The last game of four square.

The last recess.

The last lunch in the cafeteria.
The last bus ride.

The last bike ride.

The first (and second and third) popsicles.

We are ready for...

THE
FIRST
DAY
OF
SUMMER!!!

I Spy With My Little Eye...

...a bunny nest in our front yard!

Glenn came in the house today and said he thought he might have run over something with the lawn mower. There was a lot of fluffy fur, but no other carnage, so we kind of dug around in the grass. Lo and behold, there was a nest buried down in the lawn. Three, no--four, no--maybe six little bunnies all snuggled up with each other.

"Can we keep 'em, Mom? Can we?"

Well, Andrew, she...
...might have something to say about that. Yep, the mother stopped by later to feed the young'uns. And inspect the stick that Glenn and Andrew used to mark the spot in the yard.
What a good mama bunny. Except for the fact that she picked the middle of the front yard to build a home for her babies. Wasn't there anywhere more protected? Like maybe under the trampoline?

(Right, Jake?)

Ballet Recitals and Big Fat Heads

This weekend was Brooke's ballet recital. But no, despite the fact that she has indeed inherited the rather large Moeck cranium, her head is merely big, not fat. Watch this and see whose fat head I am referring to...



Wasn't that a brilliant performance by Brooke, Sydney, and the rest of the class? Weren't you captivated by their dancing? And now aren't you wondering how the whole thing ended?!?!

Fortunately I got to see it all today. And it ended with Brooke front and center, a huge smile on her face. Her whole class was fabulous. In fact, it was a very so-you-think-you-can-dance recital!

The ballerinas in full make-up

Backstage

The finale

I may never get over the fact that some overly excited mother hen blocked my only recording of Brooke's recital. It's pretty irritating, but I guess not enough to order the $25 DVD. Anyway, what's important here is that Brooke worked hard all year, had fun with her cousin, and may have found something she loves to do....dance.

Andrew at the Bat

Andrew had three hits in three at-bats, some good plays in the field,

and a huge entourage in tow for his game Thursday.

Keeping in touch.

Dear Santa,

I want a telescope and markers for Christmas.
I know I am writing this in spring which is early.
Can I call you Santey Claus?
Well, Santey Claus, thank you for the Wii. We play it all the time.
How are your elves?
Have I been a good boy?
My sisters and me say hi.
Just wanted to check in.
Bye.

Love,
Andrew Franklin