Nachos And Nighties..

So this last Friday was my annual "Get Outta Dodge Free" weekend! Every year my sisters husbands side of the family has this great "STARS" (Sisters Time And Retreat) weekend, that Sophie and I more often refer to as "The Girl Party". I've been lucky to get to know and love all of my sisters sister-in-laws, and their daughters, and daughter-in-laws, and THEIR daughters, over the years.. and once I had my own daughter.. we were invited to join in the the ultimate all-girl slumber party! SO, FUN.
There were nieces..

Big friends..

Little friends..

Darling friends..

And always, talent. (Here you would be witnessing the latest remake of Beyonces "Single Ladies", obviously.)

Of course.. with such remarkable acts.. there must always follow.. a very formal awards show..

With a captivated audience.. (you have to know my hilarious niece to fully appreciate her in this get-up..)

And no big event is complete without tipsy stars in gorgeous gowns..

Breath-taking, are we not??
(My sister morphed into THE most hilarious stoned Tammy-Faye-esque character ever.)

We laughed so hard applying our lipstick I think I might have just peed my pants a tiny bit.. and isn't that what it's all about??
Good food.. good friends..
and just a little bit of pee in your pants???
Thanks ladies! Loved every minute.

Suffering From High Self-Esteem..

So I've always been a bit of a "praiser" if you will.
I compliment freely. I point out things I find unique or outstanding in human beings in general. Strangers even.
The checker at the grocery store-- the cable guy.
I enjoy letting people know they are admired for anything from a real-life skill.. to a good pair of earrings.
So yeah... I praise.
Especially my kids. I just like em. I think they're great. I think they are funny and interesting and kind and good.
Whether or not they actually are.. dunno.
I just know I think they are.. can't help it..and let them know it.
Now I have heard the argument against "too much" praise.. but those imaginary people trying to make us follow their life rules, aren't the boss of me.. and I decided a long time ago I wasn't ever going to NOT say something positive, or hold back on any form of approval, for anyone. Especially, my kids.
Having said that.. I can admit when there might be, a bit of a glitch in the system.
Case in point: If ya haven't noticed, I find much to adore in my one and only daughter. Not only is she my youngest.. and last child-- she is a GIRL.
Therefore.. much like my kids before her.. I am constantly pointing out her adorable-ness, to pretty much anyone who will listen, but most often.. to her personally.
In my defense.. she IS darling. She IS hilarious and ridiculously fun. I mean, do I really have a choice in the matter?
I hadn't realized how much MORE she obviously hears the compliments aimed at her, as opposed to her brothers.. until yesterday when she casually asked,
"Mom.. am I really, really, really, really, really, really.. special?"
"Yes".. I answered.. "you are really, really, really, really, really, REALLY special."
To which she concluded..
"And the boys are just.. plain, special?"

Bring On The 'Nanners!

So it's Labor Day.. which means-- Labor Day sales..
at the grocery store.
I know.. THRILLING.
One of the better deals to catch my ever-wandering-and-so-unsure-WHAT-to-purchase-and-prepare eyes, was the 20 cent/per pound, bananas.
Wow. 20 cents. Better buy LOTS.
So I did.. bout 20, to be exact.. and since, have been anxiously engaged in adding them to anything I can, before they (you know the drill..)
1. brown
2. sit on your counter cause you're sure you'll make banana bread, and then..
3. end up in the composte pile.
They have been eaten straight, in SlimFast shakes, and sliced-- with peanut butter.
I have always enjoyed the banana and peanut butter combo.. and in recent months have often even added a single chocolate chip on TOP of the banana slice, nestled into the peanut butter..
BUT, it wasn't until this morning.. that I added the final, and in my opinion.. PERFECT, final touch.
Imagine if you will.. a slice of perfectly ripened nanner..
a swirl of creamy, albeit generic, peanut butter..
a delicately placed chocolate chip..
and finally..
a piece of nutty pecan.
Go ahead.. try it.
Unless you have a nut allergy..
or are maybe grossed out by bananas..
you're GONNA like it.
I know I did.

Well What's Not Cute About That??

Sophie turned 3 this year.. which means a few different things.
1. She is getting, bigger. And that's sad. Included in that fact-- is that she is growing out of some of my favorite outfits and shoes of hers, which is also, sad.
(May I mention, however.. that the latter has caused justification in purchasing new, fun, fall get-ups.. and that is not sad.
THAT, is fun.)
2. She has grown even fonder of eyeshadow, lip gloss, and anything with a "heel".
3. She still thinks boys kissing girls, is gross.. and that the boys on underwear packages WEARING underwear.. is even grosser.
4. She has learned to walk a fierce, imaginary catwalk.. and refers to herself as Emily pretty often, for no apparent reason.
(Oh.. and USES that phrase "for no apparent reason" on occasion.
Like the other night.. I hear a clunk.. and then there she was, running to me with tears streaming down her cheeks exclaiming,
"I just fell on the floor for NO APPARENT REASON!")
5. And really, the most important part.. and point of this particular entry..
the girl is finally old enough, to play KICKBALL.

Seriously.. I repeat.. WHAT is not cute about that??
She has been waiting all summer for this.
She loves her shirt, loves her hat, loves her coach.. and loves finally being the one to rake in the prized "after-snack."
She also highly enjoys being asked by her coach, "Where are ya gonna run to?"
So she can point really hard, at first base.



Here she is "digging in" with those versatile pink, flip-flops.
On the beach, or at a.. um.. kickball game-- where CAN'T you sport pink flip-flops?
I really did get her a pair of tennies after the first game.

Pink, "sparkly" tennies.. of course.

Why It's A Good Thing I Went To The Gym This Morning...

'Cause.. well, when I got in my car to go.. the steering wheel was still greasy from the cheese-filled Pizza Plus breadsticks I just COULDN'T wait to get home to eat last night-- so snarfed down at least 3, while driving.

Multi-tasking. It's A Gift.

Tonight, between approximately 9:00 and 9:15.. I:
1. Bathed a child.
2. Boiled, prepared, and served, pasta.
(I know.. late dinner. But dinner none the less.)
3. Threw in some laundry.
4. Changed the sheets on Sophies bed.
and
5. Fixed a shelf full of toys that collapsed in the process.

Impressed?

Mr. Bo Jangles...

or as he's often referred to round these parts.. simply-- "Jangles" turned SEVEN today!
Seriously? Seven?? That's so not 5, or 6. It's SEVEN. Something about it's harsh odd number character and threatening sharp shape.. just makes it seem so much bigger, older.. so, SEVEN.
So of course, in perfect Katy's-A-Spaze fashion, amidst school registration, dentist appointments, and out of town visitors, --
I kinda missed this birthdays sudden approach.. and on Sunday night, roughly 48 hours before the big day, when Bo asked,
"So when's my party?" I answered, completely unprepared, yet unfazed.. "Well on your birthday of course."
Hey! Nothin' a few apologetic last-minute'phone call invites' and trip to Wal-Mart can't make happen! The day arrived-- and,
WA,LA..

Seven seven-year-olds at a seven-year-old, party.
(Complete with a pinata for a, um.. 3-year-old.. that was "cleverly".. I use the word lightly.. presto-changoed into an obvious B. Ya know.. for Bo.)
A scavenger hunt and few water balloons later.. and a party had been had.
Oh.. and inner tube races..

'Cause what's a party without inner tube races?

I really enjoyed the hard-cold-cash look in his eyes here..(I mean.. what's a party without hard, cold, CASH?)

So many fun friends, so many fun gifts..

SOOOOO many weird faces..

and so many happy birthday wishes from me.. to my darling, hilarious, seven-year-old, Jangles.

I love every bit of your double-dimple-faced little self. Happy birthday my boy.