World's Greatest Eleven Year Old

Today is my oldest child's birthday.

Teeny tiny baby announcement

Thanks to this kid, I feel pretty old now. We have suddenly reached that stage where I can humiliate him {quite easily} in public just by opening my mouth.
What I'm trying to say is that he's more of an adult than I am and that makes me ancient.
Yesterday he told me, in an off-handed way, that my teeth look like Mater's.  He's full of great compliments. Maybe they're payback for the embarrassment.

2 years old

There are days I love this mom job and days when quite honestly feel like maybe I'd rather do something else.  But there is never a day when I don't want to be a mom to this kid (or his fantastic siblings). Does that make sense? I'm confusing like that.

 Happy Birthday, Kid. I appreciate your patience with this first-time mom...

 your curiosity about everything (especially every gross thing)...

your creativity and initiative...

and your general wackiness.  It's our distinguishing family trait.
I love you.

It's All Over Now

A few days ago my older brother celebrated his birthday.  We're grown-ups and apparently the rules say that grown-ups aren't allowed to make a big deal about any birthday not ending in zero, so we don't often celebrate our birthdays together.  Still, I have always marked his birthday as the end of my summer, just as my birthday (in mid-May) begins summer for me.  When we were children, my birthday meant that I could spend four months saying I was only a year younger than he. But his birthday shoved me further back into the "little sister" area.  That bothered me then.

 

Happy Birthday, Mokey Doo-Dah. 

Sorry about you being so old.

If you want, I can start keeping track of our age differences correctly from now on.

Love,
Honour

P.S. Could you somehow communicate to Corey's garden that summer is over? It seems to think that it's allowed to go on and on indefinitely.

Happy Birthday, Pirate



My children are out to prove me old. 

Example: Son #2 turned 8 just a few weeks ago.  Ack -  in six short months I'll celebrate a decade of motherhood.

Anyway.

Sambonio, Sambonini, Sammy, Samuel (he decided, suddenly, that mommy's baby names are too, well, babyish) has wanted a pirate cake since he was three-turning-four.  I've been willing to try, but he's always picked a different "theme" two weeks or so before the other birthdays.  This year we got it out of our system.  And boy, are we glad that we did.  It was a mess.  But a yummy mess, so who cares?

I have to quit trying to make awesome birthday cakes. I just can't seem to keep them from falling apart. And then, they're not awesome.  Do you see me in my pretty apron?



 Instead of buying more candy (there was a lot on that cake!) or dollar tree toys, I got each boy a can of silly string.  I hope the other mothers appreciated that it was junk that would get used up at our house and they wouldn't have to deal with it at home. I'm pretty sure the cats did not appreciate my thoughtfulness. But then, cats so rarely do.





After an epic 7 boys vs. adult tug-of-war, a 7 boys vs. cat silly-string fight, an enormous pizza and a very chocolaty movie, it was time to eat the cake!  But wait... it had collapsed even further.  Please note the entirely innocent expression of the guest in the background.  I am certain that he was the pirate that chased us into the storm, but it's all good.  Instead of a pirate ship, this was proclaimed to be the Swiss Family Robinson Cake. Thank goodness for quick-thinking older brothers.

I like to make a big deal about my kid's birthdays. Because, well, my kids are a pretty big deal.

Grown up names and all.