Saturday is Harper’s seventh birthday. Sunday is Meredith’s ninth birthday.
Because I can’t deal with having too many things going on at once, I decided to let Harper have her friend party this past weekend. This coming weekend will be the family party. Next weekend will be Meredith’s party. (Who am I kidding?! Every DAY is a stinking party at our house! Not really!)
I told Harper she could invite three friends over, and that we would decide what to do based on how many friends will be joining us. She told me that since it’s her first sleepover at our house, she would rather have one friend over, and do a bigger party with more friends some other time. (She’s just like me. Easily overwhelmed. This evening I’m running a meeting at a restaurant and six people will be there and all of my work is done, yet I’m already thinking things like, “What if it’s loud?” and “What if I fall down and/or do that crying thing with my voice?” I know. At least I KNOW that I’m ridiculous. BUT, would it be better to NOT know, and just be ridiculous? I KNOW I shouldn’t eat an entire pecan pie. NOT knowing that I shouldn’t would be a lifestyle game changer. Where was I?)
Harper chose a friend. We picked that friend up on Saturday afternoon and headed straight to one of those places where you pay entirely too much money to paint ceramics. (My mom used to run a ceramics shop out of our basement when I was a kid. When I told her that I paid $21 to paint a mug for myself, she gasped. “That shouldn’t have cost more than six dollars.” She then said something about how Coco painted a set of mugs for Ice once and how he responded with “I love ’em all. I love ’em crazily!”) After the ceramics, we came home and ate pizza. When the pizza was finished, we jumped into the car and headed out to The Melting Pot to dip strawberries and marshmallows and cheesecake and brownies and bananas and more into two big pots of chocolate. (One of which was set on FIRE!)
Okay. I’m about to turn into a Pinterest mom. Buckle up.
On the way home from The Melting Pot, we stopped by a craft store to buy plain t-shirts, iron-on rhinestones, and medicine droppers.
Two hours later, we had Sharpie tie-dyed t-shirts!
I ironed the rhinestones onto Harp’s friend’s t-shirt yesterday morning. The finished shirt looks like this:
When the shirts were done, the girls were getting tired. SO, we decided to make fairy jars! I took a few glow sticks and cut off the tips. I then shook the sticks into the jars, and found that nothing was coming out. SO, I cut off the tips from the other side of the sticks. The glowing goop splattered out onto my Ben Folds Choking Lady t-shirt, which made me flip out on the inside. When I shook the sticks into the jars, the stuff STILL wouldn’t come out. SO, I put my mouth around the glow sticks and blew the goop into the spice jars. (I was still tasting the glowing goop at three in the morning, and that’s when I started wondering if it was toxic. And then I started comparing UPS shipping times with planning a funeral, because I had ordered a pretty awesome dress earlier in the evening, and if at all possible, I want that dress to be my visitation dress if the glow sticks are going to be my ticket out.)
Luckily, the phrase “met her demise after blowing glow sticks into fairy jars” probably won’t appear on my obituary. (I just read an article about metastasis, by the way. This may or may not have something to do with time-released glow stick poison and my fear of glowing from within.)