Golden Birthday

A week before Thanksgiving, I was awaken in the dark of the night by a muscle cramp in my right buttocks and thigh. Not like the swimmer’s toe cramp you can just pull out of. Serious stabbing pain that made sleeping scarce. This was not fun. I like fun.

What could have brought this on, you ask? Quite possibly my almost 18-year-old son asking me if he could invite “some” friends over for his golden birthday party that he was planning while I was sitting on the beach in Maui. He would be 18 on the 18th… GOLDEN! His plan was that I would be home to cook for the party, of course. Being the nice mom, I said, “Sure! Invite some friends over.”

Next, said 18-year-old texted me to let me know he made me an administrator on a facebook event for this party for which I was cooking. That didn’t phase me until I clicked on to see why the party needed an event page on facebook. HE HAD INVITED 150 FRIENDS … while I was sitting on the beach in Maui. “Some” does not equal 150 in my mind.

As friends would respond that they couldn’t come, I would go on and type in “Good!” My hope was to scare off the kids that don’t know me well.

It went down like this: Wednesday – arrive home early in the morning from 17 days in Maui. Thursday – shop like a crazy woman. Thursday night 3:27 a.m. – leg cramps. Friday – party with 150 invites.

Thankfully only 75 of the guests showed up. There was much laughter, ping-pong, loud music, gold light-up shoes, streamers, Mexican food, a DJ, chocolate cake, line dancing on the dead grass in the backyard and 58 water bottles were opened and sampled. (Now being used to water my plants.) I am pretty sure the front and rear doors of the house were open wide from 6:00 to 10:00 p.m.

The birthday boy with his cousin, Whitney. So much happy! The golden shoes for the golden birthday really need a picture of their own. Sadly, they were not switched to the on position for this photo.

Here you go. Not only do they light up… they strobe! BAM! Golden birthday success!

More on the massive cramp tomorrow. I promise.

It Ain’t What it Used to Be

Yesterday was not only my eldest son’s golden birthday (14 on the 14th) but it was my youngest son’s introduction to headgear.  Eeeegads.  My brother wore headgear in the late 1970s, but times have changed and so has headgear.  I’ve made a solemn promise never to post pictures on facebook…. or my blogs.  A mother’s got to protect the dignity of her children, after all.  I also promised son #1 that if he made fun of son #2 I would make some headgear for him to wear and pictures would be broadcast for all to see.  (I’m the nice mom, remember?)

So, the purpose of the contraption is to pull the entire upper bridge, including attached cheek bones, forward… while holding the forehead and chin where they are.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  At least it’s a pretty blue color.  :o)  Dr. Ortho said that our son didn’t need to wear it to school.  I said, “Oh yes he does!”  Yet another advantage to homeschooling…. cutting headgear time down by two-thirds.  He even wears it to sleep.  Not my idea of a good time, but he’s coping well.

Every time I see Mr. Headgear, I am surprised by the metal bar dissecting his face.  Hopefully I’ll get used to it… it just looks so much like a transformer, or a cling-on, or a muzzle.  I’m the mom, though, so I still think he’s cute.  I told him at bedtime that we actually do need to take a picture of him wearing the headgear so his children will know how we tortured him.  That’s what parents do.