Greyness. And Colour.
Everything kind of sucks. I've had one kid or another home from school at least one day a week for three weeks now, I thought I was better but it turns out my cough from hell was just giving me a three or four day lull so it would be doubly dispiriting when it showed up, it's cold, my house is a mess and no matter how much I stare at the mess with hatred and disgust it refuses to melt away either from shame or in helpless acquiescence to my focused mental power. So much for my focused mental power - guess I should stop exposing it to bad medical dramas. Today we found out that one of my husband's really good friends from baseball coaching is going for brain surgery tomorrow, after he collapsed last week and they found several growths in his brain. So now I feel awful for him and his family, and a little extra self-loathing for my petty crap, and yet I still don't feel especially inspired or suddenly un-petty.
I'm going to show you the pictures of Eve's birthday party because it was a wonderful party and she deserves to be celebrated. I have yet again not written a letter to her on her birthday, although this year I actually did think about it on the actual right day. Then I decided it just didn't feel like me. I could not be happier or more grateful to have her in my life. She's like a package of music and colour and wisdom and goofiness and hilarity that I get to open every single day. Last night she whipped her dress over her head while getting ready for bed and said 'ya wanna kiss my eight-year-old tummy?' (I totally did). This is where we went for her birthday (and where I'm pretty sure I now want to go for my birthday). The minute I mentioned the words 'paint splatter party' to her a few months ago, it was never going to be anywhere but here:
I'm pretty sure paint splattering is an unsuspected and underused cure for most, if not all, of the world's ills. I might call and see if they can fit me in tomorrow morning.
This is Eve's face when she got a look at the splatter room:
They threw paint at the walls:
They threw paint at the floor:
They were under strict orders not to throw paint at each other, but, well...
Then the paint-filled balloons came out, and Eve lost the power of speech for a few seconds:
I got this just from standing in the doorway:
Then we broke for snacks, and these...
...and the total kitchen carnage they generated...
...were a big hit...
...so that was nice...
I'm pretty sure paint splattering is an unsuspected and underused cure for most, if not all, of the world's ills. I might call and see if they can fit me in tomorrow morning.
Comments
How did you make the "cones"?
Hope you feel better soon!!
Also? This: "She's like a package of music and colour and wisdom and goofiness and hilarity that I get to open every single day." Completely how I feel about my girl. So succinct.
When my twins turned one, I thought about writing a letter to them... but that's not me. I, like you, don't love my children less than the letter writing mums. I prefer to convey my love and devotion by using sarcasm and humour. Nothing says "I love you" like your mother rolling on the floor, gasping for breath, shouting "Stop! STOP! I'm gonna pee my pants!"... and then blogging about it later. Much better than a letter!
The "gray" sucks. All of it.
Hold onto the colour. Because that colour looks amazing.
Sorry about the grays. Suck on some codeine cough syrup and that may cure what ails.
eve didn't look excited at all about her party. really, she looked a little blasé about it all. ;-)
Sorry about your friend, and sorry about the bleakness. Hope you feel better soon. xoxo
Wishing away the grayness and wishing in wellness for all in your life. ((hugs!))
I contemplated a paint splatter party for Hannah's fast-approaching birthday, but this year my cheapness won out. Seeing the photos, though, I may have to pony up next year.
Hope your day brightens up a bit...I find leftover cupcake bits always help.