Bouncing Baby Boy

My sweet boy turned two on April 1st and I figured that in all fairness we would re-do his sister's 2nd birthday to keep an even playing field. Gave about the same gifts, ate about the same meal, we even took the exact same game day excursion...Bounce Town. Now I'm sure you're saying, "He wasn't even around for his sister's 2nd birthday and his sister probably doesn't remember her day either." Both semi-true. He was in the belly for it and I'm just waiting for the day that she confesses that she remembers being born. I cannot leave this to chance.

As with almost all big holidays in this family for the past 365 someone was sick. The Hubba had been diagnosed with Strep (again) and pericarditis (holy yikes!) so the poor guy was mostly out of commission for the big day. The kids and I ventured to the bounce park on our own. Luckily we were the first bouncers through the door. Had the place to ourselves for about 10 minutes before the deluge set in. For those of you who have never been to this place or any place similar, Bounce Town is a huge warehouse full of inflatable, highly colored and interactive bouncing apparatuses for kids big and small. If you don't leave this place exhausted there is something seriously wrong with you.

After about 30 minutes the kids settled in to the crowd. Being that we were there first they had the feeling that all of the stuff was "theirs" and they were just being kind enough to share with others. During this same period of time I had been "scoped out" by a group of rowdy 8 year old girls. I'm not quite sure how this happened but I'm thinking it had something to do with the fact that I was one of the only parental types actually bouncing. One of the cuties came up to me and said "Is that your kid?" pointing to Chase. Upon claiming him she meows, "He is cuuuute! How old is he?" and then quickly follows him up the massive inflatable slide. Erring on the side of drama, I'm going to hazard saying that she was hitting on my boy! She is 6 years his senior! Seriously? I was half tempted to bark back, "I suppose you want his phone number too, huh?" but I refrained knowing that this is only to get worse as the years progress and this was merely a minor, subliminal infraction in the grand scheme.

As another 20 minutes lapse the girl group had moved to playing tag and one hastily decided that I was "base." I seriously hadn't thought of this term in almost 20 years so I had to work fairly hard in the vocabulary Rolodex for the definition of "base." This day the word base equated to being the safe zone for all involved in this violent game of tag. At one point one of the little girls was holding on to my butterfly t-shirt, stretching it to its limits, while another was on the floor pulling her friend's leg out of socket. I was just waiting for something to tear--my shirt or her hip. I had no clue that girls played this rough, or perhaps I have just forgotten. Eventually the brute on the floor won the battle and it started feeling a little like a "Girls Gone Wild" video. I just sat there, jaw-dropped, wondering if my daughter would one day be doing the same with her friends? Again, wracking my brain for any evidence of this happening in my past and coming up empty. Eventually one was beat so badly that she started crying and then the aggressor quickly started cuddling her and rocking her like a baby to try to quell the tears that would no doubt lead to them having to leave the bouncing bonanza. They didn't seem to have parents, just a dude they kept calling "Joe" whenever one of them felt the need to tattle for excessively violent behavior. At one point they wrangled me in to bounce with them, insisting that we hold hands. They all begged me to "bounce" them like one would on a trampoline. After about 10 minutes I thought I was going to puke. One of them said to me, "Are you tired? Why are you tired?" I really wanted to wax intellectual with her about the quickly dwindling cardiac capacity of a woman who rarely engages in such savage forms of exercise but thought better of it feeling I may have lost her at "cardiac." After we exited the bouncer one of the girls sat down next to me on the floor and professed, "Ya know, you're a really nice girl." GIRL? I haven't been called a girl in roughly 25 years! Even when I was a girl no one called me that. Evidently the patrons of the jump city had been adequately fooled.

Chase taking on the Jump Slide

When we got home the little man needed some energy recoup and I honestly was hoping for the same. I still had a dino cake to decorate and some homemade mac and cheese to fashion and I couldn't see where the energy was going to come from. Luckily for me my dear gal chose this day to make it known that she would be having her first hair cut. Four years of life and not one taking of scissors to the tresses. She chooses her brother's birthday to say "Today's the day!" Being that we again had to entertain her request just last weekend to shave her head like her daddy and brother I was going to hold on to this opportunity with both hands. There she stood holding on to the knob of the front door saying "Moooom, I'm ready!" (I had thought she was joking) so I responded, "Ready for what?" as she enlightened me to the fact that today was the day and no other day would do. SERIOUSLY!? This kid kills me. But knowing what an emphatic individual she is I knew there was no denying this. It was now or never. She kept repeating to herself "It won't hurt that bad." as I sensed the nervous tension surrounding the whole thing. Unfortunately she has seen others (namely two of her male cousins and her brother) receive hair cuts from her dad that looked less than comfortable. There is always palpable uneasiness in these cuts, making her a wee bit nervous about the whole endeavor. After hitting up three jam-packed salons on a Friday afternoon, I realized we were in for slim pickins. With the wind quickly dissipating from her sails I knew I needed to act quickly--Smart Style it was. She wouldn't know a hot shot, fancy pants haircut from a cheap one anyway so why go through any further headache of finding a cute shop. This girl wanted it cut and cut now and I wasn't going to push my luck.

 

Pre-cut dancing:Always necessary





Needless to say, the hair dresser was less than gentle with her baby fine hair and after she washed it the knots were extremely apparent. It usually takes me a 30 minute Nick Jr. show to complete the process of knot eradication and this lady got it done in about 5. At one point I thought my gal was going to start crying. She kept saying, "Mommy this hurts! My neck hurts. She is hurting my hair." as though somehow the lady couldn't hear what she was saying to me. Or perhaps she didn't CARE that the lady could hear her. Or perhaps she WANTED the lady to hear her in hopes that she would ease up a bit. It gave me good fuel for later in reminding her that the combing of the knots might take forever but at least she didn't leave the situation with whip lash! Silver lining :) But after all was said and done she really liked her hair cut. She chose bangs and to be honest I can't believe we didn't do this sooner. It has made such a difference in the knot-to-hair ratio. Yippee!

 

Finished product



Sooo still!



 

 

The rest of the weekend was spent opening presents, playing with said presents, eating cake and healing the Hubba. All in all it was a good time and both miniatures were left with that fresh, new gifts glow. This weekend we are off to Denver to hit up a Nuggets game and have a night without children. God bless my niece Krystal for eternally bailing us out and watching our kids for us. It's always good, after a weekend of flourishing attention on the midgets to remember why we brought them into this world in the first place...our love :) That is what we will be celebrating. Hope you all get the chance to have a celebration of your own.



Playing with the Dino Cake decors, sure that that Stegosaurus was actually a fork made for cake consumption.

                                          Breaking down some dino knowledge...