A Tale of Two Birthdays

Before you begin to think more highly of me than you ought, I really am not that person.

You know that person. The one whose house is impeccable, whose kids are dressed in pristine white clothing, and whose homegrown, homecooked family dinners are served at 6pm sharp and hit all the major food groups (her farm to her table).

We roll more like vacuuming right before people come over, purchasing only stain-friendly clothing, and eating a previously-frozen meal anywhere from 4:30 to 8:30 (or when Uber eats shows up).

That said, what I lack in house keeping skills, I make up for in party themes.

I just love a good theme. I can’t help it. I dream about it. Not even fancy stuff, just crafty stuff. When I should be cooking dinner for my family, I’m scouring the internet for cheap, DIY party ideas.

I don’t do anything weeks in advance…except party dream. It’s a disorder.

That said, August is our month for 4 consecutive birthdays.

7, 9, 22, 23. That’s us.

By that fourth one? Bless it. Even I am birthday-ed out, as evidenced by the boys’ back-to-back parties this weekend.

Saturday:

For Beckett’s 7th birthday, he wanted a Pokemon party at our house.

Knowing nothing about how Pokemon actually works, I had to research.

Do you know how many Pokemon there are? 802.

EIGHT HUNDRED AND TWO.

He has memorized them all. (Which, coincidentally, works as a great bargaining chip for memorizing large amounts of scripture, too. If you can commit that to memory….)

I still don’t really get it (nor particularly desire to), but I did learn enough to give him what was deemed

“The Most Fun Party of All Time”

probably mostly due to the “Personmon” cards we made for he and all his friends.

BEST. FIND. EVER.

The cards were a hit, as were all of the foods we pokeballed.

Take any red, white, and black/dark blue food and BOOM – you’ve got either a pokeball or a nice 4th of July appetizer.

The games were a win, too.

We started with a game of “Poketrainer Ash Says” using action cards such as “Make a scary face like Charizard” and “Scratch like Meowth” and a whole host of other word combinations I did not remotely understand but am so thankful this person created a printable for.

We then had the kids go out and collect pokeballs in the backyard like Easter eggs. And by “pokeballs”, obviously I mean spray-painted beer pong balls that my outdoorsy brother took one look at and said, “Fishing bobbers. Genius!”

(FISHING BOBBERS. WHY DIDN’T I USE FISHING BOBBERS.)

After they collected their pong/bobber/pokeballs, we took turns trying to “catch” Pokemon (these mylar balloons).

It quickly turned into Dad Dodgeball. I wasn’t mad about it.

The winners of each game got to catch a few of these tiny adorable Pokemon that their parents hate me for having to keep up with.

Minus the local pizza place (that I swear is a front for the Russian mob) forgetting to make our pokeball pizza (“Yes, we know dee pokeeball. Geev us teen more meenutes.“)…

…the party went off without a hitch.

Beckett was ecstatic, and that’s really all that matters.

And then there was

Sunday:

Arguably my favorite birthday theme besides the Hutton Market foodie one,

the Clavicle Party at a bounce house place for Davis, the kid whose second broken clavicle prevented him from bouncing all summer.

Cupcake toppers that say “Hooray I’m 3 and my clavicles are sturdyyy!”…

…a round of “Pin the Bandaid on the Clavicle”, a game made up by our genius child, Beckett….

…the “it was broken when I got here” t-shirt…

I don’t care who you are, that’s a funny party.

The whole thing was LIFE.

But those are only the pictures I’d like to present. Those were the wins.

Behind the scenes, however, was the most third-child / fourth-birthday-in-2-weeks situation EVER.

This party went off with ALL the hitches.

When we walked up to the party location – a bounce house place that I’d only seen online – a 60 year old man in a white tank top was sauntering out for a vape break.

It was then I knew treasures awaited us inside those doors.

Location aside, I forgot plates, napkins, cups, string to hang his banner, and icing to cover up the leftover cupcakes from his brother’s party the day before.

(I’m ashamed at the state of these, but also can’t quit laughing.)

My brother helped us by stopping for icing…

…we used the 8 least melted leftover red ones instead. Third-childest, fourth-birthdayest presentation ever.

I was right about the bounce house place. Treasures did indeed await us.

For one, they didn’t have a party room for us. (A situation that was rectified quickly when I went “all Mama Bear on them”, as Taylor graciously informed me.)

Also, during small talk with the front desk lady, I learned of her children’s Halloween costumes – the 7 year old son going as a killer, the 2 year old daughter going as his victim, because “she’s 2 and doesn’t care.” (Because consent is the problem there.)

Last, but certainly not least, the pictures. THE PICTURES, you guys. As part of our party package, I was given an option to purchase photos they’d taken of our event for $5.

I saw the first one and handed over my wallet, because heirlooms: