Shalee’s Diner

I’d like it to go on the record that The Boy actually had a birthday party that was relatively close to his actual birth date.

Why yes.  This is the first time it has happened since The Boy was 7 years old.  And that time was just dumb luck!

(That year, I had a weekend that year that wasn’t consumed with Christmas parties or preparing for Christmas or shopping for Christmas (are you seeing a theme here?), so I threw a party for him on December 8th, adding to the invitation that this was a perfect time for the parents to shop for their kids without the kids finding out about the purchases.  We had a really strong turnout for that party!  I can’ tell you how many parents blessed me that day, thanking me for the chance to hide the presents good and well.

A parent does what a parent has to do sometimes.  Too bad I didn’t remember to plan for that every year!)

Poor kid.  That’s the problem with having a birthday that falls on a holiday where most friends travel, are preparing to travel, have family plans that won’t allow for a party or are in too much of a stupor from all the turkey to drive.  (Friends don’t let friends drive comatose.  Feel free to steal that one.  It will be all the rage.  Make your bumper sticker now so that you can cash in on it.  I just ask for 10% of your profits.  You’re welcome.)

This year, I was determined to have The Boy’s party around his real birthday.  I think that a boy should celebrate the fact that he made it to his teenage years relatively unscathed… and alive.  There were days when we wondered if he would…

Since his actual birthday falls on the Sunday when we would be traveling, I knew it wasn’t going to happen on the day of.   So we fell to the weekend before his big day. My only requirement was that it had to be on a Friday night so that I would have a day to recoup before Sunday – since the house would most likely to be in utter destruction and there would be the opportunity to nap to make up for the loss of sleep.  And I don’t mean for just The Boy…

So The Boy created his invitations (we’re all into making things here!) and handed them out a couple of weeks ago.  He only wanted to invite four friends, so he was really thrilled when all four responded that they could come.  And then he waited ever-so-patiently for last night to come.

He is a pretty low-key, easy to please kind of kid.  All he asked to have was my Mac-n-Cheese and corn for dinner.  Then he wanted cake and ice cream for dessert.  (Actually he wanted a cookie dough ice cream cake from Cold Stone, but those puppies are expensive!  Too bad for him.)  After that, he wanted free reign to play, play, play (and popcorn for snacking).  Easy peasy!!

He got pretty much what he wanted.

• Mac-n-Cheese – check
• Ice cream – check
• Cake Bucket of cookie dough and a spoon for each kid – check!

We left them to their own devices to enjoy each others’ company and the thrill of killing each other in Halo while we headed up to watch Runaway Bride.  Because we. are. smart.

The boys have been very good during their stay here.  They have been up aaaaall night long, playing video games, razzing each other for their moves, laughing at their own enjoyment and reading Calvin and Hobbes when they had to take turns.

They are, however, very loud.  I wasn’t planning on staying up all night long, but it was after 1 AM when we hit the bed.  I awoke at 5 to “Aaaw, maaaan!  You killed me!”

That’s a different kind of alarm…

I got up to start the eye-opening juice that I need to survive even on a night where more than 4 hours of sleep were obtained: coffee.  What a gift from God.  I luvs it!

I planned on sneaking down to my favorite couch, only to discover that the party had one man down… and he was in my spot!  Arrrg!  Hmph.  Plan b was put into effect: Since The Girl was at a different sleepover, I commandeered her bed as my haven.  Tenni the cat objected to my moving her, but she’ll live.

A little later, The Boy asked for a snack.  Before breakfast.  Which we were making in 45 minutes.  Because they were “staaaaaarving.” I handed him a box of Cheerios and said, “Have at it.”

I’m such a stellar mom.

I woke Mr. Right half an hour earlier than planned and told him that the boys were looking emaciated and that we’d better start the food earlier than planned.  He sipped the proffered coffee and then jumped to the task, whipping up large, fluffy chocolate chip pancakes whilst I readied the bacon.

We could not keep either serving plate full for long.  Those boys know how to put down the food!

We heard lots of laughter around the table, along with the compliments about the food.  I find it heartbreaking to hear the wistful remarks directed towards The Boy about the delicious home-cooked meals or that their parents don’t know how to cook. It makes me want to keep them all at our place and just cook up a mess of food.  Poor kids.  A lot are growing up not even knowing what a family dinner time is… (sad face)

The family room looks as if a tornado touched down there and stayed for an hour.  It smells like a boys’ gym locker too.  (Acky!) The rest of the house looks as if it has been overrun with boys… because it has.

You know what?  It’s totally been worth it to see this Boy smile, to hear him laugh and for him to know that he’s a pretty special kid.

Happy Birthday, The Boy! I love you!!

(I love you more. I love you most. No take backs!)