Ever since I was mentioned in Entertainment Weekly, I have been struck with the biggest writer’s block in the history of the world. I have several half-finished posts in my drafts folder – each one being questionable to being EW worthy.
But there’s nothing like a life milestone to jumpstart the writing. Yesterday, Swee’Pea and TheMonk turned four. First, I need to start with the most obvious question. A question that I’m sure every parent faces when one minute they are wandering the halls in a sleep-deprived daze to suddenly contemplating some Christian pre-school, even though you’re Catholic, because it’s right down the street. The question, of course, being…
Once I got over the shock of having kids who can now climb up on a barstool, clamber over to the fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, grab a juicy nectarine and eat it while Daddy is in the shower, I realized that “four-years-old” happened while I was busy trying to figure out “three-years-old.” And that happened when “Two-years-old” was only half-figured out. At this rate, I’m beginning to think I will never figure my kids out. Maybe when they’re 38.
To illustrate how badly three-years-old messed with my mind, I thought it would be a good idea to throw a birthday party for the Swee’Pea & TheMonk. We would invite over 8 to 10 of their closest friends and we’d party like it’s 1999. It would be great! I’d bake each of the kids a cake while making cupcakes for the party goers. We’d give out caramel apples as party favors. But it would be small, intimate and downright cozy.
Well, it turns out that caramel apples aren’t as easy to make as it seems. And baking cakes (even though we do it every year) must be like pregnancy. You forget the pain so much that you think doing it again would be a good idea.
Luckily we had help. Grandmother and Great-Grandmother (who’s old and quiet but will slap you upside the head if you get out of line. I just know it. I can see it in her eyes.) arrived to help set-up and, more importantly, clean-up. Grandmother also took Swee’Pea and TheMonk out this morning to buy candy for the treat bags (I couldn’t give out our poor little apples. Think… the caramel apple version of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree.), buy Swee’Pea underwear (Don’t ask. Apparently it was an emergency.) and get haircuts (not on the agenda I sent her out with so she’s darn lucky the hair looked good.).
Anyway, the party was short and sweet. The kids had fun and the party goers were on excellent behavior. We even enjoyed chatting with the grown-ups. But even as I write this my legs are aching from all the work that went into this party. I’m already dreading next year. Except the cakes. I’m looking forward to that.
Oh, and just as I was lamenting the fact that my babies are growing up, TheMonk looked up at me today and said, “Daddy, being four means I’m medium-big.” Okay, maybe I can live with that.
Happy Birthday my not-so-little ones. Your Daddy loves you with all of his heart. May your fourth year be filled with love, happiness and a complete weaning of Pull-ups.
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