Fairly Odd Mother

The joy of the slacker Christmas

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 02:56:00 +0000

No big Christmas goose/duck/turkey/roast set on a fabulously decorated table.

Dinner was chicken nuggets and fries, followed by store-bought ice cream cake.

No fancy clothes. Actually, no clothes for the girls at all (they wore their PJ's all day, so get yer mind outta the gutter).

No chestnuts on an open fire.

No doorbells ringing.

No timetable. No guests. No agenda.

As much as I love to see my extended family at Christmas, this was quieter, more low key and held absolutely no expectations.

Heck, I had one strong drink at noon, fell asleep at two and woke when it was dark. And no one cared.

It was a slacker Christmas, and it was perfect.

Hope your Christmas was too.

Memorial Day: December 22

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 13:33:00 +0000

Five years ago, I lost my dad to colorectal cancer. I've remembered his passing each year, with a story about how caroling at the nursing home reminded me of his last days, how I missed the moment of his death, and by talking about how his dying so close to Christmas affected me.

This year, I've decided to pull out the eulogy I read at his memorial service that occurred a few days after Christmas 2004. When I wrote it, I had three additional houseguests, was still cleaning up wrapping paper, and had a three-month-old newborn along with a 1 and 3 year old. It isn't the most eloquent thing I've ever written, but I think he would've approved.

If someone didn't know our dad and just dropped in to look at his belongings and observe his life, they'd see they'd found a man with a strong inclination for neatness, detail and order.

From his incredibly detailed filing system, to the blueprints he created for his annual garden, to his workbench with a spot for every tool, pencil and rope, to his lawn---a perfect green patch of loveliness. When I was younger, I'd mow his lawn in crazy corkscrew and checkerboard patterns just to drive him crazy.

As my brother-in-law once said with great fondness, "people think your sister gets her extreme neatness from your mom; but while your mom is neat, your dad is nuts."

Our dad was also very intelligent. . .he could play a mean game of Trivial Pursuit. . .but I believe he used his intelligence not as a way to set him apart from other people, but as a way to connect to others. He loved to talk to people--all kinds of people--and he knew something about so many topics, he could almost always find a subject in common with the person to whom he was speaking. If you've ever had a long conversation with him and then wondered, "I didn't know Ed knew anything about XYZ", you know what I mean.

He was also a man of simple pleasures: a nice canoe paddle around the pond, a good piece of meat off the grill, an evening watching TV with his Fluffy cat on his lap, spending time with his grandchildren, tending to his garden, patiently teaching his sons-in-law how to do a home project. But again, he liked nothing more than sitting down with you and talking about whatever topic came to mind.

But, this is just part of the picture of my dad. He was also a guy with a great sense of humor who loved jokes and goofiness. His favorite movies were Airplane, Young Frankenstein and This Is Spinal Tap. When I lived at home, I could hear his laughter carrying down the hallway as he watched Saturday Night Live or some other late night show.

When the Connecticut River flooded our neighborhood and he was stuck behind to keep the pump going in the basement, he took my sister's Barbie sailboat and used it to hold his beer. We had a "Don't Tell Mom" agreement between us which was invoked when he purchased a large piece of electronics or when I had another alcohol-infused mishap. Every summer, he'd blow up giant dragon floats for the pond and affectionately named them Cecil and Puff, supposedly to amuse the kids, but we knew better.

And, he's the only dad I ever knew who'd hear his girls scream "TURN DOWN THAT STEREO!" when we walked into the house. He liked his music LOUD!

It is in this spirit that I'd like to read a short passage from a song that I think he'd appreciate. There were many times, even in his final weeks, that we saw his sense of humor, his strength of character, his optimism and love of life shining through:

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best

And. . . . . .always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the light side of life

(from Monty Python's Life of Brian)

Still missing you like crazy Daddy.

Busy, busy, busy. . .

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:08:00 +0000

The 12 Things at Christmas that have kept me from blogging this month:

1. Daily Advent Calendar is kicking my ass.

2. We're busy scrambling for candy thrown by cute little scouts.

Yes, even though we mailed all our Halloween candy away last month, we now have enough to get us through the long, cold winter.

3. Grandparents on both sides who ask me to shop for the kids. This is great in that I do love having control over what toys come into the house, but my basement looks like a haunted house, with sheets covering piles of hidden treats.

4. Annual Christmas target practice.

5. 135 Christmas cards. You know that line in this song where he says "I don't even KNOW half of these people?". Kind of like that.

6. Sinterklaas, which has one of the scariest Christmas stories ever. If you don't behave, he hits you with a stick and shoves you into his sack. Don't believe me? Well, David Sedaris says it's so.

Here, the children are relieved that there will be no stick-hitting/sack-stuffing:

7. Visiting local New England holiday landmarks, being sure to cover all the holiday religions: Christian, Jewish and old-fashioned Santa.

8. Meeting my niece for the first time and seeing my beloved sister-in-law who are up from Florida for the week. I'm getting baby time, y'all.

9. Making gingerbread men. I swear to you, the kids did this one all by themselves. Should I be worried?

10. Working like a busy little elf on cool product reviews and helping to get another website back into flight.

11. Wondering how the kids managed to make the creepiest looking snowman ever.

12. Taking up a new instrument. Badly.

Hope you are all having a rocking December too!

To think that I used to worry that she'd never read

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 01:38:00 +0000

The page was open for all of ten seconds when I realized that Belly was looking over my shoulder at the laptop.

ShutSuperQuick.

Safe?

"Mommy. . . what's "Doing a Tiger Woods"?

(whirling sound of my brain)

"Um, it means being a really, really good golf player".

And then I made a mental note to keep her away from all supermarket checkout lines for the foreseeable future.

Surprised that lightening did not strike me down

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 14:47:00 +0000

I went to a religious shrine and the earth didn't swallow me whole. Read about it here.

Add that to the Christmas list

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:30:00 +0000

Overheard at a friend's house:

Almost-six-year-old daughter runs into kitchen breathless with excitement over something she's seen on TV.

"Mommy! Daddy! I saw what I want for Christmas! I want it sooooooooo much!"

"Yes? What is it?", the parents ask wearily, as this goes on several times a day.

"It's. . .
um. . .
it's called. . .

SHIPPING AND HANDLING!"

Getting ready for December crunch

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 12:49:00 +0000

Busy, busy, busy (as I know you all are too).

Want to see what we'll start doing tomorrow? I'm over here talking about it.

It's "Thank Your First Commenter Day"! Pass the wine!

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 19:35:00 +0000

Many thanks to Neil for coming up with this way of spreading a little thanksgiving before the actual holiday. His challenge? Find the first person who ever commented on your blog and thank them.

My very first commenter to that post I wrote back in October of 2006 is the barely known blogger (heh) who goes by Mom 101. In response to a post in which I recounted how a drunk boy told me I was "practical", she wrote:

Okay that is like the single worst thing I think any guy could ever say to a drunk woman in the bar. I mean, "wanna do it in my trailer?" would probably be better than that!

For what it's worth, practical is not the first thing I think of when I think of you. I think of you in that bleeding heart halloween costume in 92 (eek) and how I thought to myself, now THERE'S someone I could be friends with!

Thank you for this Liz.

I'd also like to send a big thank you to the first person I don't know outside of blogland who commented on my site: Daisy from Compost Happens who wrote this on my second post titled "Homeschooling Hiccups". She wrote:

The best way to raise a reader is to read. Keep reading to her, showing her that books are wonderful and fun and contain stories that rock. When she's developmentally ready, she'll go for the phonics lessons.

Two posts in, and I was already worrying about my abilities to homeschool. Sounds about right. And, heck, guess what! She was spot on with her advice.

To everyone who has ever visited this blog, who has taken the time to comment, or email, or send me a Tweet, thank you, thank you, thank you. You warm my heart.

--------

Know what else warms my heart? New England Mamas is back! Come and check us out! The digs look the same but we put out some tasty new treats for you all. Enjoy!

Fashion mamas? I'm on my knees

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 20:04:00 +0000

I don't spend a lot of money on clothes. 99% of what I own comes from Old Navy, Target, Kohls and Payless. I don't think I'm "cheap", I just have a hard time spending loads of cash on any single item of clothing, my wedding dress included.

There is a good reason for this. I am a klutz. I spill, stain, rip and stretch everything I own.

I was reminded of this, painfully, last night.

A year ago, I went beyond my comfort zone and splurged big time on a pair of worth-every-freakin'-penny jeans to wear to a "Black-Tie-and-Denim" fundraiser.

I've worn these jeans maybe a half-dozen times since, reserving them for special nights out instead of days sitting on the floor playing Legos.

And, oh, how I love these pants. These are the kind of jeans that make you understand why people pay so much for good denim. They shave off 10 pounds instantly, never pinch around the waist and are so soft, I'm surprised I haven't worn a hole in the thighs from rubbing my hands up and down them.

But, minutes after stepping out of the car last night for date night with my husband, I did this:

I didn't cry. I know they are jeans, not my wedding ring or even anything sentimental. But, I did wimper. A bit. And, then I went to the bar and drank a lot.

My husband, trying to cheer me up, announced I should put a big patch on the rip and "own it"! I am thinking maybe red embroidery thread to close it up. If I were 20 years younger, I'd rip more holes in them, bleach a few patches and call it a day, but I'm not 22 anymore.

So, c'mon fashionistas, help this poor mama salvage her favorite jeans. Otherwise, I'll be afraid to ever spend over $25 on a pair of jeans again.

Shook

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 03:27:00 +0000

Shook is how I feel when I hear that someone who radiates life is struck down in the prime of her life.

I'm too shook to really write much except to say that she's been on my mind since I heard the terrible news.

She has such a long road ahead but so much to live for, especially three beautiful children.

Fight hard, Anissa.

You can learn what happened and read updates here.

And, if you can help her family get through this, please click on the link in my sidebar.

Worry

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:20:00 +0000

I've sworn off of Twitter and Facebook for the week, which means that all of the little chatter in my head has just been bouncing off itself instead of finding a home in 14-point type (confession: I have no idea what size type is used on either website).

It's been a stressful week. Fairly Odd Father has had some heavy things happen at work, and the kids have been taunting me with "I'm getting sicker!" vs. "I'm getting better!" on alternate days, but never on the same days.

On Wednesday, I brought Jilly to the doctor to check out her never-ending cough because the day before she had gone pale and tired, falling asleep on the couch at 10am. We had also heard of a friend's son who was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia after having H1N1, so this information was rattling around in my brain as I watched her nap.

The doctor listened to her lungs and proclaimed it was not pneumonia. Just asthmatic wheezing probably triggered by a virus. Well, hot damn! That's like being told your flight will be landing on time after all, but you'll be going to an airport 1,000 miles from your final destination.

Then, the doctor looked at Belly, slumped in the chair and coughing. He listened to her lungs and said she was making "bronchial sounds", and I should make sure they don't get much worse. Awesome. So, last night, guess who was up half the night listening to her firstborn cough her head off, thinking "is this worse?". I'd bring her in to the doctor's today to have him check her lungs but. . .

D woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he had thrown up all over his bed. And, he wasn't kidding. I even have to wash his dozens of stuffed animals. His lungs sounded fine on Wednesday, but how about giving him a little intestinal distress for kicks?

The irony of all of this is that the doctor was able to vaccinate the three of them against H1N1 while we were in the office on Wednesday. Good thing that will keep them healthy this winter.

It's good to have foraging friends

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 00:56:00 +0000

I don't normally eat things I find growing outside.

Those black berries? Will kill you.

See these mushrooms? Don't even touch!

But, on a recent hike with three other families, I dined al fresco on things we found outside. Things I never, ever would have put in my mouth before.

And it was good.

First we found Hickory Nuts. These round green leathery things just fall out of a (stop me if you know this) Hickory Tree (the Shagbark Hickory in our neck of the woods). The cover pulls away and there is a hard tan nut inside.

Hard tan nut

You just crush the nut with a rock (or, um, your foot) and eat the nut meat inside. We were all like little rabid squirrels trying to get the edible stuff out of the crushed shells.

Then, one of the nature-smart moms looked across the field, pointed and told us to "go!". So, we went.

Everyone gathered around the bush with the silvery green leaves.

faces swirled on purpose; my friends don't really look like this

This bush had Buffaloberries all over it. They were red with little yellow dots on them, like speckled jelly beans. They were sour and yummy and plentiful. We ate them like hungry bears.

aren't they gorgeous?

I may not be able to live in the wild for a week, but I did appreciate learning a few new things. Although, I don't care who I'm with: I'm never eating a mushroom we find in the woods.

Finally, of all the cool things we learned, my favorite is this:

My little boy just loves big, furry caterpillars.

So far, so good

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 12:13:00 +0000

D says "C'mon, we're going to be late!"

This week, my five-year-old, "never-spent-a-day-in-daycare/preschool" son started school.

And it was good.

He hasn't yet balked at rushing out of the house a few minutes before nine (all you school veterans can smirk at me here), and there are no tears at drop off.

And other than quite literally throwing his coat at a teacher when he needed help putting it on, he seems to have behaved himself in the classroom and on the playground.

I think we made the right decision.

A cowgirl, a witch and a pirate walk into a bar. . .

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 16:50:00 +0000

NO, I didn't bring the kids into a bar. . .although I was mighty pleased that a couple of neighbors had "adult beverages" for us Trick-or-Treating chaperones. I think perhaps this should be a tradition: offer the adults a little treat of their own while you are handing out the Smarties and Butterfingers.

My little cowgirl, witch and pirate had a mighty fine time too.

Although watch out for that cowgirl---someone jumped out of a bush to scare her, and she drew her pistol at them.

Got candy? Here's how to get rid of it

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 12:54:00 +0000

Do you wish there was more candy in your house right now?

Yeah, me neither. We have mounds of it here, in all its pre-packaged loveliness. For now, I'm stealing my kids' Butterfingers, but in a few days I'm going to want it out of the house. Yet the thrifty part of me just can't toss it in the trash.

So, instead, I'll send it overseas, where the good men and women in our military can enjoy the fruits of our trick-or-treating.

If this sounds interesting to you, I've found two relatively easy ways to do this:

1) Operation Gratitude: While Halloween Candy isn't exactly at the top of their list for "most needed" items, it is something they happily accept. They even suggest you hold a "candy collection drive" among your friends and neighbors (you must mail your packages before December 5th). I haven't seen their flyer, which you can request by emailing OPGrat@gmail.com, but think that all types of candy are ok, as long as it is individually wrapped (no homemade popcorn balls, perishable fruits or baked goods). They also are looking for personal letters for the troops, so now is a good time to have the kids do some cute holiday coloring pages to include with your candy.

Operation Gratitude's website is a little confusing, but details about where to mail (scroll to the bottom of the page) are listed on the site . Note that you are only paying to ship to California (not Iraq or Afghanistan), but you can include an $11 check to cover the cost of postage overseas--just send the check separately from your candy.

2) Another great way to unload your Halloween candy is to check out the Any Soldier website. Here, packages are delivered to individuals volunteers who then pass them on to soldiers who don't get much mail. That soldier then shares his package with his troop.

I found this website even more confusing than Operation Gratitude, but there are a ton of FAQ's to help you along. Any Soldier is great if you really want to specify which branch of the armed services your package is to go (look at menu under "Home"). You are also more likely to hear back from the recipient of your package since it goes to a specific Any Soldier volunteer. These volunteers may also request other things their troops need, so you can round out your care package with more than candy if you so desire.

Now, aren't you glad you let the kids talk you into two straight hours of trick-or-treating?

Sticks and Stones

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 01:37:00 +0000

This is me at the beginning of my 17th year, the summer before my senior year in high school:

What do you think when you see this photo? "Nice suit!" "Whoa, perm!" "Looks like someone should wear sunscreen!"

Or, do you blurt out what a guy in my high school said when I showed him the snapshots of my friends and I at the beach: "Wow, I never realized your legs were so fat."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he started backpedaling and tried to make it sound like a joke. I smacked him on the arm and tried to laugh it off.

But, I didn't really laugh.

It's 25 years later and the memory of that moment still makes me wince. It makes me feel shame, as if I did something wrong.

One comment planted a seed that grew and grew, helped along by other moments in college, until I did some drastic things in order to achieve some "ideal" look. I'm fortunate that, years later, I no longer battle the demons of extreme weight control, but that doesn't mean I always love what I see. And as the holidays of excess---Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas---approach, I have to remind myself that I am so much more than the size of my thighs or stomach.

With two girls looking at me for guidance, I want for them to know that their mom is ok with her body now. But, for mercy's sake, please don't let it take them as long as it took me to get to this point.

Television? Oh, my kids never watch. . .(cough)

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 01:42:00 +0000

"Mommy, can I play Lego Batman?", my little wii-obsessed five-year-old son asked me sweetly.

I glanced at the clock and relented, "OK, but only for 20 minutes because we have to leave for your sister's dance class."

"How long is that?"

"Um, twenty minutes?? Well, it. . . is. . .um, it's a little while. . ."

"Is it one SpongeBobs or two SpongeBobs?"

Oh. My. Goodness. He is telling time, not by counting minutes, but by measuring them against the length of an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.

I can't decide if this is brilliant or pathetic.

Scream: My Version

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 11:31:00 +0000

{{waving}}

I'm over at New England Mamas talking about how I willingly allowed myself to be scared silly last weekend. C'mon over and keep me company!

Homeschooling family chooses school! News at Eleven.

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 02:42:00 +0000

Today I walked into the lobby, handed over some filled-out papers to the woman at the desk and signed my baby up for school. Specifically, preschool. Three days a week, 9am to 1pm.

To most people, this is a milestone worthy of much thought, consideration and even a few tears. For me, it was that and more because I also have to grapple with the nagging feeling that I'm somehow failing as a homeschooler by doing this.

D, my five year old, is doing great at home. He's reading, writing, building with blocks, playing with his Playmobil toys. He plays with other kids at swimming, coop, soccer and our weekly get togethers with other families. He goes to speech therapy once a week and his teacher loves to see him for that hour.

But, I've been feeling like he's left out in the mornings when I sit down to do work with his sisters, who are in 1st and 3rd grade. He spends those hours playing mostly on his own, not interested in joining us at the table or for any read-aloud stories. And I feel stretched so thin that I am admittedly glad he plays so well on his own. But, there are signs that maybe he needs a bit more action.

Then comes the subject of friends, something I wrote about, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, when I titled a post "My Son Has No Friends". Our neighborhood has a few boys his age but nailing them down for a playdate is tough.

So, I let the concept of preschool enter my brain, but as many of the preschools in our area are now 5 days a week or afternoons (which conflicts with too many of our activities), I had all but given up. But, then a great preschool five minutes from our home sent an email saying a child was moving and a spot would be opening in their 3-day, 4/5-year-old class.

It was a sign I couldn't ignore. We went to the school to visit and D fit in immediately. I liked the teachers, and the kids seemed well-behaved and interested in their projects. Their days will include free play, story time, outdoor playground time and some skills building. Oh, and lunch.

So, yeah, D's going to preschool. Starting November 2nd. And just when most parents are getting used to the drop off and walking back to their cars with hardly a glance behind, I'll be the one wiping tears from my eyes as I walk back to my car, my two older girls in tow, hoping I'm making the right decision.

How do I like these apples?

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 15:01:00 +0000

Come see me over at New England Mamas if you want to find out. . .

Sometimes I just don't know what to think. . .

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 23:31:00 +0000

I saw a piece of paper fluttering down our street after the garbage trucks rumbled by the other morning.

Man, I've got some interesting neighbors.

Three strikes and I'm still in

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000

Three years ago on October 9, 2006, I hit publish and started this blog. Thanks to all of you who have come along for the ride!

Here is the post that started it all:

Pleased to meet you. I'm Practical.

Way back in college (we're talking late 80's. . .a l-o-n-g time ago), I was called 'practical'. I must admit, it hurt. I wanted to be known as fun, flirty, whimsical; someone who let things roll off her back. No baggage here! But no. . . .practical. As in, flat dress shoes, one-pot meals, stain-resistant pants and savings plans.

It happened one night at a bar (you'll see that many of my posts will begin like this). I had just finished my third Woo Woo of the night. I was bouncing merrily off the crowd when a guy friend came to me, draped his drunken arm around my shoulders and purred into me ear, "Someday, after I've found the girl I'm going to marry, I'm going to make sure she meets you. You are so practical, you can teach her to be too". (ok, I'm sure the wording was a bit different, but give my tired brain a break; I'm lucky I can remember much from my 20's).

I looked at him with wide, terrified eyes and backed away until I had bumped off enough people to land in my roommate's lap. I then cried, "PRACTICAL?!?!? I'm doomed! I'll never get married! Guys don't want PRACTICAL! They want cute and sexy and fun!" She probably suggested we get another Woo Woo (God Bless You, Sharon).

Of course, deep down, I knew it was true. I always went to the library before hitting the bars. I wrote my research paper notes on index cards so that everything was organized. Our off-campus apartment was spotless. I was dependable; I was a Friar.

Shoot forward many years and, yes, I did find a nice, fun, adorable man who thought, "cute, sexy, fun AND practical!" And then we got married and now have three cute, fun and practical kids (no sexy, never sexy). I kind of like 'practical' now. It sounds so safe and comforting. And, while it still reminds me of flat dress shoes, one-pot meals, stain-resistant pants and savings plans, those things now hold a special place in my loud, frazzled, messy life.

Blowing (off) bubbles

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 02:31:00 +0000

All weekend, I heard the same thing from Jilly: "I'm going to drown".

At her swimming class a few days prior, her teacher had pulled me aside and said that she'd like to take the flotation (aka, the bubble) off of Jilly because she was more than ready to let it go.

Actually, she had been more than ready to let it go this summer, and spent most of her pool days swimming without one, jumping into the deep end without any flotation at all.

But, at swim lessons, with all those laps? She wanted that bubble.

So, I endured nights of everything from "please let me wear my bubble", to "fine! I guess I'll just go and drown!" (followed by a little toss of the head). I wasn't completely unsympathetic; I'd point out the number of lifeguards and the lane markers that would be right next to her while she swam. Heck, her teacher told her she could use a noodle to swim with for the first few classes!

But, on Monday, as we walked toward the pool, she wasn't buying any of it. "Goodbye. I'm going to drown now," she said as she stalked away toward her teacher.

Yeah, whatever. She did great. And, she even managed to look both proud and a little sheepish after class.

Jilly, still wearing her bubble, but definitely not looking sheepish in this summertime photo taken by Mr. Q, my brother-in-law

A very fairy birthday party

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 13:27:00 +0000

(this post originally ran on Fairly Odd Reviews back in March but as I look to phase out that site, I will be pulling some of my favorite posts over to this site; look for more birthday party ideas soon)

My middle daughter has always been a bit of a pixie, with her short blond hair, small stature and tendency to "flit" (aka, never sit still). So, when her sixth birthday came up on the horizon, we decided on a "fairy party", with the emphasis on the fairies that live outside among the flowers and trees, and not those found in skimpy costumes and found in the world of Disney.

I am by no means a trained party planner, but I love to find neat ideas online and to research things to the nth degree. I try not to spend "too much" although my record-keeping is a bit fuzzy. With that in mind, read on to see how I pulled this party together.

Invitations

I had confirmed the date and time of the party with all of the parents over a month in advance, which made me a bit lazy in getting printed invitations out on time.

After stalling a bit too long, I realized I had about one day to get invitations out before they'd be seriously late. Instead of going too crazy, I just printed this Fairy Photo Frame on photo paper and then cut out the picture.

I mounted the picture on white greeting card paper. In the center of the image, I wrote in marker, "You Are Invited. . ." Inside, the girls found the following text:

Wear you fairy best, a tutu will do.
Your wings & accessories await you.

The party is March 8^th from 2-4,
please say you'll fly by.

The birthday fairy Jilly
Waits for your reply!

Decorations

Most of the party took place in the dining room, so I concentrated my decorating to that room.

I covered the table in two light green cloth tablecloths from the Christmas Tree Shop. On top, I scattered some pink flowers we had left over from my oldest's luau party (from three years ago!), and threw some fake pink flowers in some vases (I would've preferred fresh, but I had the pink ones left over from one of the crafts).

Two long strands of Christmas lights hung across the windows; I found the lights at a drugstore in January for 75% off. In one corner was the large mylar balloon bundle that my sister sends the kids every year for their birthday. She always tries to tie them into my party plans, so there was plenty of girlie pink.

The food on this table was decidedly sweet: chocolate pretzel "wands", chocolate-covered strawberries and cookies.

Arrival

When the guests arrived, they were invited to the Family/TV room to choose a head piece. I was originally going to do these as a craft, but decided it was a bit too advanced for a few of the little girls and did them myself over a couple of nights. They were made of some dollar-store head bands, floral picks found in the wedding section of the craft store, green floral tape, some ribbon and a sparkly butterfly clip for each head piece. They were not hard to make, but just took a little time.

I had two boys at the party, and rather than make them wear flowers on their heads, I took some green felt, a stapler and a large feather and made them this elf hat. The ribbons were needed to keep the hat on their heads.

After getting their hats, the kids went into the kitchen to get a fairy tattoo. I had grabbed a couple of sheets that morning at Target for about $2 each. There were some snacks out on this table: fruit skewers, Tings and cheese stars (cut with a small cookie cutter that morning) and crackers (aka, the "healthy table").

Craft Time

Once the guests had arrived, they went into the dining room to make their craft: Fairy Houses. I had fallen in love with this idea after seeing it on the Simple Lovely blog. I cut little holes into Peat Pots for doors, and put out some tiny colored shells, feathers, strips of ribbon and moss (all from craft store), as well as some tiny pinecones and pine needles collected from our yard. Glue was poured into an egg carton that had been separated into individual holders, and they used a popsicle stick to apply. They did their craft on pink paper plates to make it easy to bring home and to also protect the table a bit from over-enthusiastic glue application.

Scavenger Hunt

After the craft, I assembled all the kids into the Living Room to explain the scavenger hunt which is a variation on the idea I saw at Great Fun 4 Kids (see attached Word document at bottom). I took a small gift that I had bought for Jilly and wrapped it about 11 times (enough so each guest could unwrap one layer). At each layer was a new clue that told them where to go to find another gift to take home. Holding their empty favor bags, the kids ran around the house to find the things that would become their favors: little bottles of bubbles, candy, plastic butterflies, gel pens, etc. They also got found their wings and wands (found here) which made them "official fairies".

As a goof, I looked up their "Fairy Names" printed them on stickers and read them outloud at the end of the hunt---the boys received ridiculous "Elf Names". The stickers went onto the favor bags so no one could lose their bag.

Cake Time

My oldest has a milk allergy, so I always make my own cakes and usually rely on cupcakes from my favorite cupcake book ever: Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World. I purchased sugar flowers from Fancy Flours and, instead of Tinkerbell, grabbed one tiny fairy found at Target and stuck her to the top of the Cupcake Tower.

The cupcakes and Dibs ice cream (brilliant discovery because they are SO much easier to serve than scoops of ice cream, and less trash than individually packaged cups) were served in the gorgeous and compostable Earthen Palm Leaf Bowls from Green Planet Parties.

Gift Opening

One thing I try hard to do (not always easy in the flurry of gift opening) is to take a photo of the gift-giver and the birthday child sitting together on the chair. It takes a minute to do, but I usually get a great photo of the two of them together, and I make copies of the picture to include with the thank you card. I've tried group photos, but it's hard to get all the kids to look "good" at the same time, whereas it is easier with just two kids at a time.

Aftermath

This marks the eighteenth party I've now thrown at home for my kids and their friends. Eighteenth, and my oldest is only eight! I'm getting better at reusing what I have on hand versus buying everything from scratch. I try to have a couple of "what if" activities in my back pocket but also try to have time for free play.

And, I'm not sure if I really save any money throwing my own parties, but I know the kids have great memories of their birthday parties and keep asking for them to be at home, so I guess that says something.

Juvenile Myositis Diseases: One Family's Story

fairlyoddmother@inbox.com (Fairly Odd Mother) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 05:01:00 +0000

"I wish I could take away your pain", I thought tonight as I hugged my little guy after he wacked his head against the door to his bedroom. Whenever the kids are hurt, or sick, or sad, I wish I could take away their pain and make things better.

I can only imagine how it feels to be a parent of a child whose "hurt, sick, or sad" doesn't go away with a few kisses and a little TLC. I can only imagine how frustrating it is to go from doctor to doctor, looking for answers, all while your child is not getting better.

Someone who can imagine this is Kevin, the super-cool blogger at Always Home and Uncool, who asked if I'd help spread the news and raise awareness about a disease that has hit too close to home. His daughter has juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease that she was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago.

The day also happens to be his wife's birthday. Please read his family's story.

*

Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, please go to Megan, Rhonda and Kevin's Cure JM page or to the Cure JM donation page.