Happy birthday to… you.

So, blargh. Here’s the thing: I pretty much suck at straight narrative. Every time something happens that I think I should write about I get all uptight and stop posting completely, because the sheer weight of narrative structure bluescreens my brain. So! You probably won’t get a straightforward account of Connor’s birthday (or almost anything, really) here, but rest assured that it was lovely. We spent far too much money on decorations and balloons and a giant-ass bakery cake with checkered flags on it, Michael’s parents were actually nice and participated in the whole event, we had five kids running amok in the house, and I made far too many kinds of dip.

We thought about doing a theme birthday, but does he really need ten new car toys or eighty-five new Little Einsteins-themed doodads? No. Instead I bought a bunch of pretty green serving bowls and cups, picked up a green “Happy Birthday!” party set (tablecloth, napkins, etc.), splurged on fancy-schmancy helium balloons, and put together grab-bags for the kids to play around with. Success! The multicolored Slinkies I put in the bags were a big hit, the enormous scented bubbles that Michael’s mom contributed were awesome, and let me say again that I made far too many kinds of dip. Seriously. I made spinach dip, I made guacamole, I made salsa, I made ranch dip for the veggie tray… Honestly, it was kind of surreal. We will be eating chips with dip until Connor turns four, at which time I will probably overdo it on cookies or something. Gah.

The aforementioned giant smelly bubbles made the party especially pleasant; we turned on the airconditioner and let the kids hold the enormous wands up to it for instant bubbles. This turned out to be a winning move on many levels, because aside from filling the house with pretty purple bubbles, the hyacinth scent got rid of the “five kids, one apartment” smell that was starting to accumulate. I’ve been doing the bubble thing for a few minutes every day since the party, because awww, pretty! And smelly! I’m thinking of marketing this idea to the Glade corporation or something, because air-freshener bubbles are an idea whose time has come. I’m going to be rich if you don’t steal my idea. (Yes. You. I see you back there, with your notepad and spy-cam.)

Um, what else? I don’t know. It was a kid’s birthday party; it was fun; I was completely wiped out afterward. We also had a lot of beer left over, because apparently I am not the only recent (mostly) teetotaler. Now it sits in my fridge, mocking me with its frosty, possibly sleep-inducing qualities, because hi! Guess what! It is really hot and really humid and I haven’t slept in a bajillion years! Hence the distinct lack of coherence or relevance in this post, sorry. Here, have some pictures.

Connor, Mamo, Papo, and the dip.

Connor, my desk, and the bottom of his balloons.

Brenden with the sadly unused croquet set.

There! Birthday in a nutshell, if you add three other kids and an enormous cake. I don’t have pictures of those things because I was… I don’t know. Probably busy doing something with the dip. (I know of a dip around here, you say, and it’s not spinach. What’s that? I say. I can’t hear you, la la la.)

Edit: Upon re-reading this, I thought I GUESS THE THEME OF THE PARTY WAS DIP THEN, HUH? Whereupon I collapsed into a swirl of despair over missing a golden punchline. Well, a brass punchline anyway. Shut up, I heard that.

(It is hot here today, and humid, and did I mention that I did not sleep? Because I did not, so please don’t take the overall cranky and accusatory tone of my little reachings-out personally. I am violating the fourth wall in an attempt to draw you in, but I don’t mean to be so aggressive about it. Really. I love you, man.)