Little Boys Are Made Of What?

What's that they say?  Something about worms, and snails, and puppy dog tails?  Whatever.  What I found out today is that little boys are made of an energy source that if harnessed could power all of Los Angeles.  We had T1's Phenomenal Pokemon Party today with 15 boys and about a thousand Pokemon cards.  Throw in a little sugar and it makes for a banner birthday celebration and an exhausting day for parents.

Highlights:

1. Boys can find fun in dirt.

2. Wrestling each other is a mandatory activity

3. Boys can learn the most intricate details of a Pokemon card within 1 minute of being exposed to one.

4. Trading said Pokemon cards is pretty much what they live for.

5. If they are so lucky as to trade Pokemon through an electronic device, all the better.

This pretty much sums it up.  T1 had a great time, and who know that all his friends would be so into this renaissance that Pokemon is having.  Well, I guess he did. 

Birthday Week continued

Tonight, I'm working on the details for T1's birthday extravaganza.  Last Sunday's baking party was a huge success, so we hope this Sunday's Pokemon battle will be equally as good.

I'm going to make Pokeball's out of styrofoam balls for the boys to catch their "Pokemon" in.  If you don't have a 7- or 8-year-old boy, you might not know that a Pokeball looks like this:

I've got red spray paint and black electrical tape that I'll paint and wrap around the styrofoam.  This is a project for tomorrow night because tomorrow's day is insane. 

Tomorrow's birthday day looks like this:

T1's schedule:  Leave home for karate studio at 10:30.  Test for orange belt from 11 to 12:15.  Travel to T2's end of the season soccer party to switch into Dad's car to go to his soccer game.  Finish soccer game and go to DesignerCon at the Pasadena Convention Center where our friend is selling his toy line, Sketchbot.  See a movie and go to dinner.  Sleep 'cause 8-year-olds need their rest.

T2's schedule:  Leave home for last soccer game at 10:30.  After game, go to end-of-the-season soccer party at yogurt place.  Arrive at Hula Performance at 1 pm.  Dance for an appreciative audience, and return home to go to DesignerCon to get a Sketchbot.  See a movie; go out to dinner.  Crash into bed after a hard playin' day.

Mom's schedule:  Drive around to all this crap and keep cool, no matter what!

The coincidence that all of our kids' extracurricular activities having major events on the same day near the same time means that DG and I will need to split up.  I won't see T2's last game.  DG won't see T1's karate belt test.  But I guess that's what video tapes are for. 

So while I'm running around and trying to get ready for the party, I hope that we can stay sane.  Thank God birthday week will be over soon.  What's that you say?  Hanukkah is right after that?  Then Christmas after that?  Better get used to this.

And then it got LOUD

Whoever said that girls are sugar and spice and everything nice, never hosted a baking party for 15 little girls.  There was plenty of sweetness, and I'm not just talkin' about the cupcake icing, sprinkles, and caramel apple cider.  But I had no idea how spicy these diminutive, spritely angels could be. 

First order of business?  Strom the hallway to see if they could mess up T1's room, which he had guarded with this:

You can't see it, but the sign says, "Keep Out! Boys Only!

 

 

A sea of screams leapt up and down the hall as they tried to crush the only semblance of a Y chromosome left in the house. 

Their enthusiasm in creating salt dough ornaments was beyond intense.  They were ninja warriors, wielding balls of kneaded dough like nunchucks  The concept of "less is more" was completely lost on their "more, more, more" little girly-ness.  The disks of dough were etched, poked, impaled, and razed so much that some girls needed to start over just to get one on the cookie sheet.

The decibel level really started to rise when the cupcake decorating began.  All of a sudden, when sugar was involved, voices got more shrill, like squawking crows.  "I want chocolate! I need pink frosting! Pass the cherries! I NEED CHOCOLATE!!" Decorating icing, sanding sugar, and sprinkles were pooled all over the table, and not so much on the cupcake.  Ultimately, the girls took to rolling their 2nd and 3rd frosted creations in the dregs of the abandoned sugar not worthy to find its way to the original, more decoration-savvy first cupcake.

And one by one, as they started to leave at the end of the day, the house got quieter and quieter.  DG came home after taking T1 on a playdate away from all the girls, and he said, "Why is the music on so loud?"  "Because it's an 8-year-old's birthday party, and it got LOUD."  That, or it's 1965 and I'm trying to hear it above the screaming for John, Paul, George and Ringo.

But above all, T2 had the time of her life.  She was Queen Bee, with all the drones buzzing around her.  This is her element.  It was all for her--not shared with her twin--not compromised to accommodate other friends or people's feelings.  She could take it all in.  And that's what birthday parties are for. 

I hope she remembers this party when she grows up.  I still remember the cake at my 6th birthday, and I marvel now at how my mom was able to know exactly what I needed to feel special.  T2 was special today, and now, as my ears are still ringing and I can almost feel how good the beckoning bed will feel, I am happy to have made her feel so.