For several months, Carter talked about his birthday like it was only days away. He became excited after attending his best friend Brandon's party. Brandon had a "Spiderman Bouncy House" party, and Carter wanted one too! So we planned for months about what he wanted at his party. For Carter there were only three things on the list: Spiderman, Water-slide, and Friends; but, that just wasn't good enough for me. I was the only child, you go all out, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" kid and I married the, never had a party, you got a present and cake and favorite dinner, man. Whether he admits or not, Dain lives through his inner child with Carter, and loves going all out!! Birthdays are big; Christmas is big; Tuesdays are big! Any excuse to have fun and spoil Carter has been well planned and orchestrated to the fullest extent. So, as you can imagine, the two of us together are sometimes over-the-top in our planning of birthdays. We started with our lists: Spiderman theme, cool invitations, biggest water-slide appropriate for a 4 year old, cotton candy (as spiderwebs, of course), the list went on and on. I began buying and stocking and storing and sketching and buying....did I mention buying? Then began the phase of bringing everything together. Now is where I must explain something to you: I think I can do everything myself! That's right, I said it. I'm just conceded enough to think I can do any task I want, and that everyone is staring at me in the gym when I workout! I will say, I am a wonderful copycat crafter. I can see something I like, and begin a plan to save money and do it myself. The problem comes in facilitating everything at the same time.
As the mother of an over-opinionated child, I find many things challenging to know when to overlook and know when to take it to heart. It's like Kenny Rogers said, "Know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em"!!On Carter's birthday, Monday the 10th, we went as a family to Chuckee Cheese to celebrate, but Carter's birthday party was not until that Saturday. Knowing Carter has two-cents about everything, I sat in the backseat of the truck on the way home thinking about all of the things that I needed to come together before Saturday at 3pm. We are not the housekeeper kind of family so my list included everything from clean the toilets to make the cake. I feel my breaths become shorter and shorter. My head begins to hurt with anxiety as I am filled with regret in taking on so much. Here I stood, the week of, and there was no turning back. I began to prepare my friends and family for the much needed support and lies if everything went to hell in a hand basket. "Just lie to me and tell me it all looks great and talk about me on your way home", I would say. But on the moonlit ride home, I realized I forgot my biggest critic. The young man who laughed when walking in the bathroom and said, "look at that big booty." The one known for telling me I stink and refusing to eat what I have cooked. The young man who did not hesitate to let me know that he doesn't like it when I dye my hair and that he thinks "it looks ugly." That child of mine who responds to me saying I can't do something with "because you're too old, or you're too big?" There he sat next to me, my New York Times critic; and I had not prepared him for my level of exhaustion that led to increased levels of sensitivity. I gently turned to him and said in my softest, most matronly voice possible, "Carter, Momma has worked so hard on your Spiderman birthday party. So I need you to be really excited and happy on Saturday and stroke my ego a little. Ok?"
A look of confusion spread over his face that was quickly replaced with a look of pure, shitty sarcasm and he said (with his eyebrows pushed together in the middle and raised on the outside), "That's weird..... That's really, really weird...."
