drowning in icing


Another year. Another birthday. Another party.

I get a little too excited about my kids’ birthday parties. But, by the end, that excitement turns into a stress mess and nothing ends quite how I envisioned.

Today, I find myself at Michael’s – the 12th store on my places to go for birthday supplies. I’ve gathered the basics, but Pinterest always makes me feel one step… or, 10 steps… behind. I should try for more.

I went in searching for race car-themed cupcake decor because I was having trouble finding exactly what I wanted. There are 50 million different shades and designs of pink and purple, but boy themes are in short supply. Thankfully, I located the perfect cupcake liners quickly, but, then, I saw the cakes. There was a car-shaped cake tin. How much would Austin LOVE this? It would be adorable. I could decorate the cars AND do cupcakes. Sugar overload, but who cares? I could just imagine how impressive this whole setup could be. I was going to rock this party.

I stand in line, attempting to keep one child from breaking every single glass vase lining the walkway and the other from nose diving from the basket seat. Finally, we are next, and I lug the basket to the counter where I quickly remove the items. Then, I stop.

There I am, drowning in $30 worth of specialty icing and a couple car-shaped tins, along with other party “necessities” and various craft projects that most likely will never be accomplished. That’s about the time reality slapped me in the face. What am I thinking?

Why do I turn every birthday party into a circus and stress myself? This is a party. It’s supposed to be fun. We are not celebrating me or my crafts or how many Pinterest projects I can cram into a party.

We are celebrating my son – my sweet, loving little boy. Another year of life that the Lord has blessed us with. Another year of laughter, tears, hugs and kisses. We are celebrating Austin. And, to be honest, he doesn’t care about a single thing that I’m doing for his party except for the fact that there will be friends, there will be cars and there will be chocolate. And, that is enough.

That is enough. It’s hard to wrap my head around that thought. We try so hard to make sure our children have the best of everything. But, some things, like birthday parties, really don’t matter. So, maybe if I step back and take a lesson from my three-year-old, it could save me from a few gray hairs down the road. Instead of stressing over logistics and decorations, I’m going to try to let it go and just enjoy. Get ready. It’s time to party like a three-year-old.

let’s talk CROCS


They are ugly. So. Very. Ugly.

In fact, I literally cringed when I saw a whole family in CROCS at the beach… Dad, Mom, and two boys. Maybe my reaction was actually a response to the fact that could be us in several years ::shudders::

Yes, I was the mom who always thought, “My child will never own CROCS.” Who cares if they are all purpose? Who cares if they are useful? Who cares if they come in every color under the face of the sun? They are U.G.L.Y. And, then it happened. I bought a pair for A. He LOVES them.

I didn’t actually realize two-year-old little boys had a preference of shoes unless it was plastered with Lightning McQueen or Thomas the Train on its side. I was so wrong. As soon as we walked in the store, A starts jostling around in the stroller, pointing and waving, yelling, “I want those shoes, Momma. Those shoes!” Wow. That was unexpected. Then, he proceeded to rip his sandals off his feet and beg for the lime green CROCS. I’m not 100 percent positive, but I may have purchased these shoes while suffering from shock… not only from his insistence on a pair of shoes, but the price for them as well.

But, we are now proud owners of CROCS, and I have to admit, he looks pretty cute in them. However, here’s to one day not being an entire CROCS family 😉