What I meant to say: Birthday Edition

It’s always fun to play along with Chief so (pinch) click on her awesome butt(on) and come join the fun!

When my newly turned 6 year old said, “I want to have my birthday party at the swimming pool and have all my friends come!” I said, “If we go to the pool you can only invite a few friends. Why don’t we have a party at home and you can invite however many friends you want!”

What I meant to say: Actually, honey, we’ve decided to follow the Jehovah Witness way and we do not celebrate birthdays anymore. We’ll just have a pizza and sit around NOT celebrating your birthday. Won’t that be fun??

When she asked me to make a SpongeBob cake, I said “No problem! I can do that!”

What I meant to say: Listen, we all know how this is gonna go. I’ll lose sleep trying to figure this cake and the party out, I’ll bake a cake, stay up late so I can decorate it while all the kids are out of the way, tip the pan to get the cake out and have the entire middle fall out. At this point, I’ll mostly keep my cool, pull out the rest of the cake and start frosting it to make it look normal. But then the frosting will rip away at the cake, leaving cake crumbs all over in the frosting while I laugh through my tiredly panicked tears. This is where I’ll run out of frosting at 11:30 the night before the party and I know all I need to do is go back to the store and just keep going, but instead I’ll probably collapse on the kitchen floor, sobbing and moaning like an emotionally disturbed child. Your father will then come out in his undies, to witness the glory of the woman he fell in love with, drag that mess into our room and force me to go to bed. He, of course, will then stay home from work the next day (probably knowing all week that his wife got way in over her head with this and he would end up at home saving the day) make another fabulous cake and stay for the party, just to make sure Mommy doesn’t tell scary stories about how when you grow up, your butt gets bigger, life isn’t ever what you expected, by the time you know what you want, you’re usually too old to do it or use it and one day you won’t be able to eat whatever you want and get away with it, then send all the party guest home crying because of what the scary, hormonal, puffy/bloodshot-eyed old lady told them.

It happens every time.

Look what my husband did the next morning (not that any of that really happened, I swear):

He is so amazing, seriously.

Anyway, everyone survived and had a blast! My daughter loved the cake and everything that we did! I hope she felt as special as she really is to us, I mean, look at that face:

How can you NOT try to give her everything she wants?!

Although, I already told her there will be no big friend party next year. I'm not sure I’ll be out of the loony bin by then.