I had set the bar too high.
I know that is the case, and yet, I don't know how to stop.
It's birthday season here, and ever since Punk's first real party, I have been cursing myself. That was the year of hand-drawn invitations; tea-stained, hand-burned, sent in real glass bottles, filled with real sugar-white sand.
Then there was the seven dwarfs party, where we actually mined for gems, had a planned food fight, made individual character t-shirts for each guest . . . you get the picture . . . cowboy sleepover; real tea-party - with gram's 60-year old wedding china; spa-retreat . . .and on and on and on. These aren't expensive or extravagant parties - just exhausting. Not to mention the fact, that with two birthdays a week apart, each having a friend party and a small, family dinner celebration - it's like Mardi-Gras around here for the whole first half of June.
This year Kooka wanted a Survivor theme. Easy enough right? Throw in a few challenges, some teamwork, a couple of blindfolds, some diving, hand-sculpted fondant shaped to look like tiki-gods, four dozen water balloons, six bicycle locks, two yards of hemp, individually burned name tags on each straw, hand-made immunity idols . . . it's a memory she'll treasure forever, right?
Actually, we all had a great time putting it together, but since Punk's birthday is only a week afterward, I was almost relieved when he asked to have his party at the local Brunswick Zone. Two rounds of lazer tag, a few pizzas, a fistful of arcade tokens, peanut butter brownies, and somebody else to pick up the mess. Of course we did stop home for a quick swim first - so there are is at least one swimsuit, three socks and a questionable pair of undies that still need to be picked up.
Only 5 more weeks until the little Hirschling turns one - and a week after that Gram will be 95. One week later it is Rico's turn. Hopefully, his friends will keep their underwear to themselves.
|Part of Punk's posse.|
|Getting ready for laser tag.|
|The Survivor Tribe working on their shelter.|