Number 2 and Number 4

OK, the weather is getting colder again and I've got a mom segment starting on a local radio station (http://www.y105music.com/ check out The Motherlode with Laura Ford Thursdays around 8:30am central) so I should probably get back to blogging.

I have a great idea for a blog, but I have to get back into the hang of things first so here's a couple of quick hits today.  They both seem to be hitting below the belt today, please bear with me.

Baby poo in the movies is no longer the bomb.  It's time to rest that (literal) crap now.  What is it about a movie with a baby in it that makes every writer include a scene with (usually) a male struggling to diaper that kid?   If you are a female you've probably had little brothers or sisters, babysitting jobs, and possibly kids of your own...it's time to ban diaper doody jokes.  If you are lucky enough to leave the house to catch a flick while still having someone in diapers, you literally deal with that s#!t everyday and it's not amusing.  I'm warning you movie execs, showing that scene in previews will prove to me there must not be anything with more hilarious merit in the movie and from now on I'll throw my $10 towards a talking car instead...and that's saying a lot.

What is "up" with you when you think sending your "equipment" via picture phone is gonna get any girl all hot and bothered?  Yes, I'm talking to you Brett Farve.  Let's put aside the fact that you are married with two grown daughters, OK?  No, wait a minute, what if you grabbed your daughter's cell phone and found a pic of some guys junk on it...what would you think?  What is (allegedly) wrong with you...too many concussions on the playing field?  If I ever received a pic on my phone with a guy fumbling his (foot)balls, I'd 1) laugh uncontrollably 2) drop that thing (cell phone/eyes) in some bleach and 3) if said unit were attached to someone famous, I'd send it to everyone on my contacts list.   Hey buddy, that's not sexy...everyone knows the pixel count on any given cell phone does not show anyone (or anyTHING) in the best light, why not just pose Seinfeldian George-style on a chazz-lounge for a portrait?  It would be awesome if a sexual harassment suspension broke your streak, but most likely by this time in your life, throwing money at any situation will make it all go away.  Nice lesson to teach the kiddos.  Next time, take your own advice and keep it in your Wranglers.

And as an aside, as his wife are you flattered that the chick he reportedly went after looks just like a younger you or does that bother you even more?  Can't say that guy doesn't have a 'type.'

Speaking of type, it's time to stop my typing and get out there and play with my kid.  I expect no hilarious diaper hijinx today though, she's potty trained.

Blatant Plug

Help me win my OWN television show!

Not the most ridiculous thing I've ever done, but damn close.   Please, no one tell my husband I wasted an entire afternoon doing this.

Please vote early and often! 

Thank you!

Once a geek, always a geek

OK, anyone that knows me knows I adore one particular band. We're talking crazy obsession here (but of course, not in a stalker way, that would be weird).

Barenaked Ladies have been a part of my life since college. When I was interning at 107.9 The End in Cleveland, one of the morning show co-hosts (wat up Tobin!) introduced me to those wacky Canadians and it's been ear-love ever since. Plus, I've always had this tiny little crush an appreciation for the witty lyrics of Ed Robertson, the lead singer.

BNL have been with me through a few boyfriends, their songs played exclusively as dinner music during my wedding, and they even made an appearance in my delivery room (c/o iTunes of course). Needless to say, they have been an important influence and support system in my life.

Here is me and Ed on August 31^st, 1997. No, I don't have great memory or record keeping, I just know when I got home from the show it was all over the news that Princess Diana was in a car crash.

Yes, I was a HUUUGE geek. I even brought all the band members their very own macaroni necklaces. The necklaces were awful but they were gonna be my way to approach the band members and break the ice to get a conversation started. This is the first time I ran into what I now call 'BNL breakdown'. It seems when I get into a room with these guys, my brain overloads and I wind up a blithering idiot. Instead of asking pertinent questions about themselves or the albums, I always wind up talking about how I'm freaking out in front of them. I literally start to shake and my brain goes numb. The band members are always nice and welcoming, but they have to think I'm a spazz who they should prolly look into a restraining order about. My husband has been with me enough times that he just shakes his head and laughs. He usually has big, funny conversations with the BNL guys and I'm always extremely jealous but as he always explains, they are just guys. For some reason, I cannot compute.

This is my BNL wall. It is comprised of a few BNL items I've collected over the years. I wish I had taken better care of my BNL related paraphernalia…I have such a poor memory I can't even tell you how many shows I've been to. I can tell you the best one was a general admission show in Pittsburgh in '97 and I travelled to NY to watch them usher in the new millennium (but this geek had to take her brother to that show) and there are shows I remember from Chicago, Madison, Milwaukee, and of course Cleveland that were amazing. But, it all starts to bleed together. I'm pretty sure I saw them in Columbus, Toledo, and in Akron, but I might be lying. Oh well…anytime I have seen them, it's been a good time. And I've been very fortunate to have met them at all.

So, when I heard they were coming to Davenport…a short 1 ½ hour drive…for a Sunday night show, I bought tickets. I was disappointed I could no longer afford to be in their fan club (hey, a stay-at-home-mom's gotta do what a stay-at-home-mom's gotta do) thus goodbye good seating and possible meet and greets and hello regular BNL masses. But I was very excited to be going to a show.

Then an amazing thing happened. When you are known for loving one band, the awesome part is people call you when they hear about that band. Friends I hadn't heard from in eons were texting me to see when the new BNL album dropped and certain radio program directors called me to ask if I wanted tickets. Full disclosure, I have a very nice life and very wonderful friends.

So, I was lucky enough to meet them again, and I had my usual BNL breakdown and life was incredible. I forgot how much I had missed their live shows. I would recommend them to ANYONE.

Oh, one last thing. I knew enough about myself to know that my hysterical-ness is not particularly prone to being able to converse, so I wrote them a small note to thank them for their music. Yes, once a geek, always a geek. In my panicked haze I almost forgot to give it to them, but luckily Ed came around last and my husband nudged me to throw it his way.

And that letter just so happened to include this blog address. So, if you ever happen to read this Ed, Jim, Kevin, or Tyler, thank you. You guys rock…errr…rock on…errr…geez, I really AM a geek!

P.S.  OK, I've spent far too long on the computer this morning but I learned two things:  1) My husband's fav song and my fav song were both played at the BNL show the night before, so we came up a day late and a dollar short on that one...still a great show; and 2) There is photographic evidence of Ed reading (or at least skimming) my letter.  I can die happy.  http://gallery.tourphotographer.com/p/20100516_bnl_davenport/20100516_bnl_davenport_0105_55_35

P.P.S. I heard they do a lot of private and corporate events.  Coincidentally, I am starting a fund, feel free to donate to the charity henceforth known as "Laura's 50th birthday party starring Barenaked Ladies."  The event will be in approximately 15 years so mark your calendar and please donate early and often!  Thank you.

The nose knows

OK, here's a random Mommy post.

 

So, I've always wondered about PBS's Arthur.  Do you know him?  He's supposedly this aardvark.  I've always wondered why they insisted he was an aardvark, because he looks nothing like one.  How do you get to be an anteater without a nose to suck up all the little bugs?  (OK, I just googled that and it turns out anteaters and aardvarks aren't exactly the same thing, but they're close.  Anyway...)

So, we have this aardvark who doesn't look like an aardvark and the show is cute enough and it's spawned from these great books.  So lately, my youngest daughter has been crazy about the books, and we've been checking them out at the library.

Which is where I discovered Arthur's dirty little secret.  This is so big I'm surprised there is not yet an E! True Hollywood Story about it.  Meet Arthur, the original.  That's right, in his debut Arthur really looked like an aardvark.  The most horrible part?  The book is called Arthur's Nose and is actually the story of how Arthur is unhappy with his nose and is thinking of changing it.  He goes the animal version of a plastic surgeon and they go over his options.  In the end, Arthur decides his nose is the best (!) and he, his friends, and family end up loving Arthur just the way he is (...until Hollywood comes calling, that is).  

Ok, so how cliche is this?  Really, Arthur, I can almost see the Hollywood hotshot in his eel skin suit, pointing his fingers like guns, and winking while making that "cha-ching" noise.   Seriously, who saw this book and thought "Yep, I love it, let's change everything, including the central message of the story." Where was Marc Brown, the author...oh yea, he was too busy seeing dollar signs.  That's right, I'm calling you out Mr. Brown for pimping your own creation.

So, now Arthur has lost my respect.  There goes my chances of ever donating to public television, I wouldn't want my donation to go to a tummy tuck for Snuffie or a skin bleaching for Clifford. 

It really doesn't matter to Arthur, he's laughing all the way to the bank.  In fact, I bet he's hanging out drinking Mai Tai's on the beach with Heidi Montag and Joan Rivers and his only regret was having the rhinoplasty before the great cocaine era of the 80's.

But what about the children, Arthur?  What kind of message are you sending out to the little Barry Manilows and Barbra Streisands of the world?  How could you? You were a role model, Arthur.  For shame.

What is the central message of this blog?  If I wrote one, I'd just then publish the opposite once someone agreed to publish this drivel.  C'mon, dude or dudette editor at my favorite publishing house, I'm waiting by the phone and can't wait for my millionaire makeover.  Love ya, chow baby.

P.S.  I found this online...the 25th anniversary of the first book.  I don't get it.  How confusing is this for kids?  The best part is the foreword by Michael Jackson.

Signing bonus

OK, I happened to catch the signing of the Health Care Bill...or as Obama called it the Health Insurance Reform Act.

Here's some REAL political commentary you won't find anywhere else.

1.  First, do you really need to interrupt my DVR'ing of The View?  That's what all those news channels and C-SPAN are for, right?  What about all those poor kids that stayed home from school because Justin Bieber was going to be on TV?  Shame, shame!

2.  Thank you sir (the President, not Justin Bieber) for explaining in simple terms what the bill does and what changes take effect now.  I appreciate that.  (See yesterday's rant).  I'm not so naive to believe there is no spin on those statements, but I do appreciate it.  Going out of your way to thank every member of Congress, however, was lame.  Poor Congress who had to work for their constituents and think for a change, here's a tiny violin for you.  Guess what, we all do things at work we don't like...I had to peel poop off a pair of elmo underwear yesterday, where is my round of applause?  Speaking of outbursts...

3.  What is with this shouting/interrupting/rude behavior that seems to have become the norm at important political events?  First, the State of the Union, then the "baby killer" business on the house floor (on second thought, I'll give that one a pass because I'm sure worse things have been shouted on the house floor), and today during the President's speech some guy had to interject a "YEA, WE DID!"   Really, Joe Blow (or Rep. Gary Ackerman, D-N.Y), you are not at a Yankees game, show some decorum.

3.5  In trying to find a photo of the signing, I came across many stories that our very own VP dropped the F- bomb live on television to introduce the President.  Real winner there, huh?  Please Mr. President, don't die in office, or even have a nightmare about having to use the 25th amendment for any reason whatsoever.

4.  Could any more pens have been used during the signing?  First, don't televise the unpresidential goofiness of trying to sign the 12 letters of his name (I'm assuming you write your whole name but skip the whole President tag but I could be wrong) with 22 pens.   And how soon until the Republican's start talking about budget cuts in the White House supply closet?

OK, I'm done.
So now that this whole health care is being put to bed what are we gonna all talk about now?

In Care of my Health

OK, can I say something out loud?

I have no idea what this health care bill will or will not do for me.  Does this make me more or less American?

Yes, MSN homepage, you can bullet point what the bill does but honestly we'll only know in ten years how it REALLY has affected me and my family.  Frankly (not a Barney reference, I assure you), I'm sick of hearing about it...and that makes me sad.  I MINORED in poly-sci, how can I hate it that much now?!

Personally, I'm getting incredibly sick of politics and wonder if the people of Rome felt like this before that empire fell.  I'm pretty sure we've got to be thisclose to crazy rulers dancing and playing violin while Detroit burns ('cause really, doesn't Detroit riot every other Tuesday?)

Maybe it's my lack of conviction, but from where I'm standing politics is becoming a joke...but not a funny one, more like the ones I try to tell where I try too hard and no one ever laughs. (See above paragraph.)

You've got one side, lets call them the loud talkers.  I appreciate their strong convictions, but these people scare the hell out of me.  It should never be he who yells loudest rules.  You're not my mom, I don't like being told what to do all the time.

The other side is the undeciders.  They can't get their act together long enough to tie their shoes.  Their problem is they know they don't like it the yelling way, but can't agree on how or why to do it another way.  They are the unvocalized opposition to the yellers, and really not so effective.

Here's my analogy:
Say you're stuck in a car with a group of friends and you are deciding where to go for dinner.  One way, the driver screams since he's driving we're going to restaurant A and that's that.  Since you're not a big fan of that place, you are not happy.    But you'll also not be happy if no one in the car can agree and you end up starving and driving around for hours until you just land at a place no one likes because you simply ran out of gas.

There has to be a better way.  I have to believe most people fall into a happy medium catagory.  If everyone puts their minds to it we should be able to come up with a compromise.  Life is a series of compromises, is it not?  Find a restaurant that's close, inexpensive and has an extensive menu and all is forgiven.

On the other side of the coin, who do you know that gets along with every member of their family?  If we can't have familial peace, why should we expect to be a happy, shiny people holding hands country?

We are so very combatitive and unyielding when it comes to politics...and that bites.  The world is not all black and white, but it's never all gray either.  Tough decisions are just that--tough, with no easy answers. 

Here is the way I see it.  There are three huge problems with our election system:
1)  There is too much money in it. 
2)  Generally, people are dumb and will believe what you tell them in a 30 second commercial (especially if it's well produced and untrue).
3)  The primary system is killing this country.  For the primaries we get the leftest left and the rightest right to decide on a key player and then for the general election these same candidates have to act (cause it is all an act is it not?) all warm and fuzzy and have a gooey center.  The closest one to the middle without going over (and without outright contridicting previous published opinion) wins.  Then said elected official has to once more appease the outer spectum of primary voters so he/she can be elected again.   And, barring the obligatory political corruption scandal, it's an endless cycle.

Yea, us.

Now for my easy answer--
I'd like to start another political party.  The I'd-like-to-care-but-I-don't-have-time-but-really-let's-meet-in-the-middle party.  The only thing I need is money, a following of stupid people, and a decision on where we are meeting for dinner.  Who's with me???

Kiss of Death

Here is my personal relationship public service announcement.  Ready?
Don't ever say nice things about your significant other publicly.  NEVER.

Two facebook friends (women) recently posted status updates stating that their husbands were awesome; they are now the only 2 couples I know (personally) who are in the process of divorce.

Sandra Bullock told millions of people her husband was her rock, now she'd rather throw rocks at him and his skanky tattooed mistress (I'm guessing, I don't know Sandy personally).

I regularly tell anyone who will listen to (or read) me that my husband is a dolt.  (As an aside, this week I had to prove to said hubby that dolt was a real world...seriously, how can you live on this earth 35 years and never hear that word EVER?!)

See, I can't help it...but that's OK, cause it must mean our marriage is A-OK...or did I just jinx it now?  Crap.

Spring has sprung

Halleluia!  The sun is out and the temperature is creeping up.

Technically, spring arrives on Saturday but I love those window of hope days in March where everything is going to be OK again soon.  You hear birds again, children wear shorts and t-shirts to school even though it was only 37 degrees this morning, and I get thinking about gardening.

Everyone in the neighborhood was out yesterday and it was amazing.  First, I know a lot more people than I did a year ago here which is nice.  Secondly, it's all a little "Lion King-y,"  you know, circle of life type stuff. 

Everyone's a year older and wiser.  The kids are excited to spend every second outside. 

Today I am ambitious to do it all;  I can't wait to put on my walking shoes; I've gotten all my gardening stuff together; and I sit at my laptop writing this?!?

Off to clean up a little because when my kindergartener gets home, everyone is staying outside until dark!  Go spring!

I got mad skillz

OK, this still being the Olympics, I'm still thinking skill sets.  I've heard it said that in an average lifetime, a person is really good at 3 things.  But how do you find those personal 3 things in your life that you are good at?

How did [insert random biathlete] discover he was good at the combination of skiing and shooting?  I imagine for gold it takes more than practice, but some raw talent in a particular sport to set you apart...plus you have to like it too.  That is as random a combination as a quad toe loop into a triple axle (yea, I have no idea either, they jump, spin in the air and I only notice if they fall down).

OK, I need you to think for a moment.  I know, I know, that's not what the Interweb is all about, but just help me out for a second.  I need you to think about what truly random things you're really good at.  What are YOUR "Olympic Sports" in a way (but we're using the word sports here very loosely).

I'm not talking about things you like to do.  I like to roller skate/blade...but I'm not especially good at it.  I like to take walks, but I'm not exceptionally fast or talented.  I like to sing, but I'm never going to be an American Idol.

However, I have found 2 random things I have a talent for...unfortunately, they are not very marketable skills.

First, I can load a dishwasher like nobody's business.  I'm not talking cramming in a weeks worth of dishes and opening it up to discover half the stuff didn't get clean.  Call it spatial aptitude, but I can fill a dishwasher within an inch of its life and still get everything sparkling.  What drives me crazy is my husband does not even remotely possess this skill, he puts bowls, dishes, and glasses in willy-nilly and it drives me crazy and I end up redoing the whole thing anyway.  

My second talent is far less marketable.  I am an expert celebrity voice-over identifier.  Essentially, I can tell you who is speaking on commercials and animated movies.  It's a gift.  A horrible and pointless gift. 

I'm hoping my last skill is one that can earn me a little cash.  But what if my last talent turns out to be best waste management refuse recycler?  Bummer.

Furthermore, what if we never find our "3 life skills?"  Or worse, what if something else impedes on them.  For example, what if I could be a world class heart surgeon but because I can't stand the sight of blood, I'll never know?  

Possibly, though, your skills change over time and you get more than 3.  If that is not the case, my 2 year-old has already mastered dumping everything out around her and making terrible messes...so we'll see.

I guess you just try as many things as you can and hope you not only like what you do, but you also do it well.

Don't worry, my next post will be far more pop culture driven.  This philosophical crap is really hurting my head. 

BTW--Seriously, did ANYONE believe Tiger's public apology?  Dude looked like a fifth-grader giving his first public speaking speech.  My fav?  When he said something like, "Elin should be commended for her grace... (......long pause........look up at camera.....oh crap, where is my space?  Shoot there was more to that sentence) ...and poise.  Or when the main camera blanked out...someone forgot to charge the batteries for a 13 minute speech?  Or how 'bout that awesomely cheap blue backdrop curtain...insert blue ball/golf ball joke here.  Trying to save your marriage and sponsorships in the same dull handwritten speech?  Priceless.

OK, if you could just take a sec and comment on what you think is one of your truly goofy life skills, I'd really appreciate it.  Make me seem less like a freak.

Best day ever!

I'm giddy.  Absolutely in a crazy good mood.  You see, I had been down for the last few weeks but suddenly the universe has decided it's my time and thrown down mass amounts of good fortune at my doorstep today.  It's lovely and I realize how self-absorbed this will sound and how little everyone else will get from this post, but I just had to share how happy today makes me.

Here is my awesome day (and like the cosmos, in random order)

1. The sun is shining today.  I forgot what a pick-me-up you could get from a flaming ball of gas.  There is a husband joke there, but I'm in such a good mood, I'm skipping it.  It's a sun-sun-sun-shiny day!  I'm ODing on Vitamin D.

2.  BNL announced the kickoff of their American tour today.  No Boston, no Denver, no Detroit but a date in IOWA.  I live in Iowa!  Tour date is only an hour away!  Plus, it's on a Sunday night so I can chill out, take a nap, and head to the show.  It won't be crowded, it will be fun.  Opening act is someone I have heard of and like.  It is also the day after I am walking 17 miles (although it sounds awful, it is amazing)  which makes it a mommy weekend.  Better yet, husband is thinking of taking the kids camping that wknd, so it could be my first ever kids-free mommy weekend.  (OK, I get that it sounds terribly cruel to be excited about leaving your kids, but when you've been stuck inside for weeks, is really OK to say out loud.)  I am not ashamed...I am stoked.  So stoked I don't care how uncool it is to say 'stoked.'

3.  Just got an e-mail that Wicked is coming to Madison, over my birthday.  I'm so there.  I love the theatre in Madison, I love Wicked.  I'm so high on life, I'm defying gravity...OK, that was a bad one...loath me!

4.  MOPS was the best one this year so far.  For those of you with lives, MOPS is Mothers of preschoolers.  We meet every two weeks.  This year I love my table.  This week I found the speaker to be awesomely informative, the craft was incredible, and the food was plentiful and delicious.  I missed a few moms who weren't there, but it was still a fabulous time.

5.  I get to make fun of men's figure skaters tonight, this time (thanks to my friend Lisa with the idea) with a margarita or two!   I will be pointing fingers and laughing at the over-the-top costumes live on facebook, so come to the party if you'd like.

6.  I get to go watch one of my favorite new shows after I finish up here.  Give Being Erica a shot.  It's a great little girlie show made in Canada on a horrible network, (soapnet, yikes!) but don't hold that against it.  I found it after day 11 of bedrest and immediately programmed it into my DVR.  Like Felicity, the later years.

Well, that's just about all the Pollyanna-ing I can do in one day without ruining my street cred.  Yes, I said street cred.  I feel like a teenager today, but I still have the vocab of a middle aged mom.  Oh well.
 

I lied.

Not all Olympic sports are created equal.

Dude is missing a "d" on his last name.  I can't believe I watched this and many other poorly costumed men last night.  Lord help us all.

Olympidiot

How did I not know this before...my husband hates the Olympics.  Who hates the Olympics?  Really?  Seriously?  How do you hate the Olympics?

I love all the cheesy back stories on the athletes and the warm feeling you get watching someone stand on the podium to grab their gold and listen to their (boring) anthem.  No surprise here, I love the sap. 

I used to LOVE watching ice skating.  I remember watching skating then taking my roller skates (now called quads for you youngins) down to our scary basement and reliving the dream.  A good program is a little bit of magic...OK a little bit of magic set to bad music, but special none the less. Oh, don't get me wrong, there is also something awesome about hearing the "awwwwwww" from the announcers and the audience when the skaters splat on the ice too.  Heheh.

I remember being 8 and watching Mary Lou Retton from my couch.  Magic.  Since then, I always try to stick my landings and throw my hands up in the air like a good vaulter if I'm jumping more than a few inches off the ground...yea, I wish I was kidding.

I will even watch sports I never heard of 6 minutes previous to sitting down on the couch.   Rhythmic speed skiing?  Sure, I'm in as long as one of the athletes has a sibling with a heinous disease or horrible childhood and I can listen to their plight for the next half-hour.

I always wonder how these people found their sport.  Really, how do you know you are a world class luger?  Or, what I REALLY want to know...how do I know I wasn't meant to be a world-class luger and just never had the opportunity?  I could be living the dream!

I get that if one of your parents ever did it, you get to take a shot at that sport too.  That seems right.  But what about all the kids of parents who sit on their couch and watch the Olympics?  How will they find their sport?  Or what if you try to be good at the wrong one?  What if you think you are a great skater and you give it a whirl but if you had ever put on a pair of skis you would have been impossible to beat?

There are just too many variables...unless you are from China.  There they have your DNA analyzed in-utero and you are put into a training program on your way out of your mom's yoo-who (or in China yu-hu).

My daughter was watching skating last night and she looked over to me and out-of the blue said "skating just isn't going to be my sport mom."  I thought that was profound.   (Considering the girl can hardly take 10 steps without tripping over herself, I also knew it was true.)   I then asked her if she knew what her sport was yet and she looked and me and said "Ummm, maybe soccer, but I'm only 6, so maybe I'll change."  Brilliant.

Monkey Business

UGH. I just realized I need monkey stickers. Why? Oh, I need them to stick on the little monkey name tags I have to make, (Duh! Of course!) and to coordinate with the monkey plates and napkins, and monkey goodie bags I have (not enough of, but more on that later).

My kindergartner is having her first real birthday party. I thought this could be simple and easy, you know the way I like things...but....

Things have a way of spiraling out of control fast on the birthday party front. I just was thinking "We need balloons! But how will I pick up balloons? But we NEED balloons!" Then I snapped out of it, realized everyone invited knows where we live and balloons will only get in the way. So no balloons...at least not today...check back on my crazy-status Saturday.

The girl picked the theme (monkeys, obviously!) Well, after I kinda, mighta, maybe talked her out of the ladybug theme because of the lack of accoutrements available for ladybugs in the middle of winter. OK, and maybe for a minute she wanted a Harry Potter theme (Dad is reading her the first book and she LOVES it) but I thought most kindergartner's might not get it so I perhaps steered her in a different direction. For the record, I LOVE that she didn't have a princess party. Go girl! And although the monkey theme was a third choice, she LOVES it and everything that goes with it. And trust me, there is a LOT that goes with it.  For some reason, my (I mean her) goodie bags had to; 1) Go with the monkey theme; and 2) Also be totally awesome.  (So then other mom's would know I care not only about my child's well-being but also their child's ability to attend an awesome monkey themed party.)  Did I mention things maybe getting out of control?!

So, in my head I pictured all the girls from her class getting invitations and everyone talking about it at school and then I did a great thing: I asked her who she wanted to invite. She did an even better job than I would have. She included all the people who she likes to play with. So now we're getting a houseful of neighbors and cousins...AWESOME. I love that she did this. I know the kids and they all matter to her. Full disclosure: two of the neighbor girls are also in her class, and I didn't invite the whole class of girls so maybe I'm breaking some kind of rule...but she never received anything saying any party with girls had to have the entire class of girls invited. The neighbors just happen to be in her class, so I think they count as neighbors and not classmates. Maybe I'm breaking some kind of kindergarten party etiquette, but so be it.

OK, so monkey invites went out and everyone is coming. Which maybe I didn't count on because I only ordered so many awesome monkey goodie bags. But I reordered extras and now the tracking says they should be here Friday for a Saturday party. I'm crossing my aposable thumbs they get here on time.

So, back to the nametags...since this party is not a class party but a 6 degrees of my daughter party, I need monkey stickers, because I need all the kids get along...or at least tolerate each other...or at least know each other's names...in my monkey themed house for two and half hours.

I also told the girl she could have a monkey cake. What was I thinking?!? Off to google how to decorate a monkey cake. Wish me luck!

BTW, there is one great thing about having a party for a kindergartner...the threats I get to make all week about not having the party if she doesn't behave. Parenting at its best, folks.

Incidentally, to all my local readers (yea right!)...I KNOW there is a kids play facility called Monkey Business and we could have just had the party there. But right before it was a kids playland it was a STRIPCLUB and for the record, there is not enough disinfectant in the WORLD for me to have my kids party there. Sorry but, "Hey kids, that's a fireman's pole now!" just doesn't cut it for me.