Mental Pictures from a Circus Party (repost)

Before I share the 'official' re-post of Grace's 4th birthday party, you'll need a reminder of the 'mental pictures' I took of the party.

The circus party has come and gone. As I look at the pictures from our party, I am reminded of blogs you read, were you see posts filled with perfect pictures, clean homes, well behaved, perfectly posed children and you are left thinking 1. wow, she has it all together or 2. what aren't they telling me, what's behind those too good to be true pictures.

Looking at the pictures of my party, I am shocked at the story they tell. The story of the well executed party. The cute decorations. The people smiling and having a good time.

The mental pictures I have of the party tell another story. My mental pictures answer the 'what's behind those too good to be true pictures'.  They can be summed up like this:

{12} balloon animals untwisted and used as weapons to attack our guests.  I did NOT see that coming.  See {9}.

{11} presents being openned, all at once, cards thrown to the side, papers up in the air.  All while {4} and {9} were taking place.  Mom, nearing a meltdown minutes after this picture was taken, is left to determine who gave what later.

Photo taken before present opening chaos broke out.

{10} minutes to extract a splinter out of a little girl's foot.  I wonder how that could have happened...

{9} the 4 and 5 year old brothers {that adds up to 9}, who had the presence of 10 kids.  Neighbors {whom we don't know other than the courtesy wave across the fence}, who that morning we extended the 'hey, why don't you stop over later' invite, who were jumping off the arm of my sofa as if it were a rocket launch, while their father sat completely oblivious in our yard, trusting I was a competent babysitter and party hostess.

Yep...this sofa.

{8} pizzas ordered, none of which I had a chance to sit down and eat mainly because of {9}.

{7}, seventh, hottest day of the year.  I sweated through my $5 Goodwill dress I had scored in Febuary. 

{6} holes punched through the punch box before the party started.  Luckily my talented sister fixed all of them and no one was the wiser.

{5} hours before the party started, we found out the cotton candy machine we rented didn't work.  Yes we did have a cotton candy machine *which might explain {9} a bit better.

{4} kids having hurl yourself on the floor screaming tantrums as they were getting dragged out of the party {I happily would have left with any of those parents and let their kids stay in my place}.

I have mental pictures of the real deal, this is similar to how they looked {Grace age 2}.

{3} pairs of shoes left unclaimed at the end of the night.  That means, 3 kids left our party shoeless.

{2} people that asked what Up Right Step meant.  It's supposed to read:  Step Right Up.  I listened to the advice of my husband and arranged the words going up the stairs.  His logic was, you want them to step.right.up. 

{1} mom about to have a nervous breakdown, who will make a full recovery and  focus on the {1} birthday girl that smiled and laughed the entire day.

Actual pictures to come :)

The key to a successful marriage

 

I've decided to share some relationship advice over at:

Of course, I do it in typical 'while wearing heels' fashion...while poking fun at my husband :).

If you haven't yet had the pleasure of discovering Linda and her hilarious and well decorated blog, after you read my guest post, check out my favorite post Like Fine Wine.

If you aren't already following it all started with paint, you certainly will now.

Superhero Underwear

Why you shouldn't take your 4 year old shopping for Daddy's new underwear.

Last weekend, the family did a little shopping.  My husband bought a package of new underwear, one of which happened to be really blue.

Grace has been fascinated that there is a pair of bright blue underwear in our house.  She has been asking about them every since they were purchased.

This morning, Grace woke up asking about what crimes the blue underwear fought last night.

Hmm.

I realized a call to my husband was required to clear things up.

Apparently, last night's bedtime story was about the crime fighting blue underwear that flies through the air looking for bad guys.  When a perpetrator is spotted, the underpants cover the perpetrators head OR wind themselves in their feet, restraining them until the police arrive.

Yes.  The world is a now a safer place...

thanks to my husband's underpants :)

And, yes...this blogger did stage a photo session with the crime fighting underwear.  The things I will do for the sake of blogging :)

A girl walks into a dentist office...

When I get nervous, I try to interject some levity into the situation, mainly to make myself feel better. This was definitely the case when I finally made an appointment to see the dentist. I am embarrassed to admit how long it was since I last went to the dentist. Think of a shocking amount of time to neglect your teeth and triple it and you are probably close.

I am not so sure, dental paperwork is the appropriate outlet for my sense of humor to make an appearance. I filled out all the typical fill in the blanks, with ease. In the general information section, after name, the question was posed, what do you prefer to be called. I wanted to respond, 'Amy. Miss Jackson if you're nasty'.

I am not even sure why that Janet Jackson song popped into my head. The places your mind will wander when filled with mortal dread.

I also thought the request for my car phone number was an interesting one.  I looked around, nervous that I had somehow traveled back in time to the 1980s.

I spotted a mirror in the distance and realized, it couldn't have been the 80s because my bangs weren't curled and teased 8 inches above my head.

Technically, this is the 90s but you still have to admire those bangs
and my American pride.

I also had a moment where I wanted to turn back and run. I contemplated calling my father in law, who is a veterinarian. I've heard countless stories of how he puts dogs under in order to clean their teeth.

In that moment, sitting in the dentist office, this sounded like a very good alternative.

Though, I am sure I would be considered a large breed dog and that's definitely not something I ever want on any medical record of mine.

 So, I bravely headed into the dentist office.