Studley suffers from Youngest Child Syndrome, specifically, there are hardly any pictures of him and we sometimes forget he's here. Also, his birthday is two weeks after Lucy's and let's face it, we've been practicing the girl birthday thing for a few years now and are just getting good at it. We are also TIRED when it comes time to throw a birthday party two weeks later, for a small boy whose friends are still the children of my friends, whose names he may or may not know. He doesn't start clammoring for a themed party with a carefully crafted guest list 51 weeks in advance of his actual birthday, like his sister does, and although I dislike the henpecking, it does tend to work. Therefore, she gets the Cinderella Ball and he gets hosed.
Until now! This year Studley had a kids' band, as well as a few bands for the grown ups at his party. There was face painting, a bouncey house and pony rides. It is safe to say, we completely rock as parents and will be filling Studley's photo albums with pictures of him and his friends having the time of their lives.
Are you wondering if you just stumbled onto the wrong blog?
Here's the deal. I planned a small gathering at my house, but then was told by one of the moms that the Yarmouth Seaside Festival was the same day. I had never heard of this festival, but when she suggested we have the party there, I was completely on board. Nice of Yarmouth to throw such a nice party for Studley, don't you think? Especially when we don't even live there. We watched the kids show and then had a picnic and cake (I even remembered the matches and in pretty much all the cake photos the box of matches are prominently placed within easy reach of all the toddlers. Yay me!). Then there were rides and games and ABSOLUTELY NO CLEANUP WHATSOEVER. Genius, I tell you.
Especially because I woke up this morning feeling like a truck had hit me and could not fathom having company. Don't even start feeling sorry for me. I felt that way because I was out way too late last night with the girls. We went to a restaurant in Boston called Mantra and then on to Boston Ballet for A Festival of Stars or some such hoopla.
At dinner we were presented with a demi tasse of pumpkin soup with a drizzle of pumpkin oil, declared an amuse-bouche by the server. The server was the most charming human being alive and when he divulged that he had not tried the filet mignon because he's Hindu, I made a mental note to become Hindu first thing Monday morning. Also, his girlfriend is an opera singer. I have a crush on them both.
I'm not going to go on and on about the ballet, but I will tell you quite honestly that I gasped, wept, and involuntarily shouted "wooooooot!" in turns throughout the performance. I was not asked to leave, despite the presence of the artistic director, Mikko Nissinen, two rows in front of us. Hi, Mikko!
And now you're all "you are a spoiled, horrible person, how is it that I ever even THOUGHT about feeling sorry for you?" and just to get you back on track, this is what I woke up to:
That's our dining room, with the walls torn down. And sure, it's just one room, but the rest of the house is acting as overflow during the renovation, so pretty much all the rooms are torn apart. And Studley keeps dumping Cheerios in his wake. And the cat apparently ate a bad mouse. I will not go into details on that other than saying that I again gasped and wept, but not in a good way this time.
Other than that? Things are perfect!
So last night I'm happy as a lark, being all cultered and coiffed and singing the praises of all of God's creation and then the next morning life could not be more abysmal. I am not bi-polar. My life is.
In short, today would have been a VERY BAD day to have friends over, so it's good the town of Yarmouth likes Studley enough to throw him a huge birthday bash. They like him so much, in fact, they named a street after him.
I'm thinking of stealing the sign for his room but since his name isn't actually Studley, he might be confused. Wouldn't it make a great police report, though? "Mother of two caught stealing studley street sign." Because you just know I'd get caught. Maybe I'll go back to being the uptight spoiled version of me and commission a replica. Complete with faux rust.