This is an actual conversation that Mary and Garrett had today when I picked up Mary from school. Garrett was in the car because he was home with his pink eye affliction. Mary was wearing her rainbow sweater with the hood up.
Garrett: Hi Mary.
Mary: Oh, Hi Garrett! Do you have a pirate patch?
Garrett: Yes, this is my pirate eye patch, but you can't wear it for you might get sick.
Mary: Ok. It's cool.
Garrett: Did you have a good day at school, Mary?
Mary: Yes. (Pause).... My head is a rainbow.
Garrett: Sure is.
Mary is not one to be outdone by a cool eye patch. Garrett is not one to care.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Pink Eye, Come on Down!
Welcome to everyone's favorite winter game show Catch That Illness! where you can win fabulous prizes such as Days Off of School, Your Favorite Comfort Food, and Hours of Television and Computer Games. If you win our final round in which you must infect everyone in your family and drain your mother of all energy, you'll win Endless Sympathy and the Right To Do Whatever you Want While Your Mother Recovers. Yes, in one fun filled season of illness, you can win all these prizes and more.
We'll start our show with a suspenseful round of Ambiguous Symptoms. Each member of your family will display symptoms that may or may not require medical attention. When you can name that illness, hit your buzzer. You'll earn a co-pay for each illness that you correctly identify.
The winner of this round will be asked a bonus question about a random set of symptoms: Do you need to go to the doctor? Depending on your answer, you'll move on to Pay The Doctor or Raid the Drugstore. In Pay The Doctor, you may or may not receive verification that you are sick or contagious, but you'll pay the doctor anyway. You have to play this round until you know what you have or run out of money. If after Paying the Doctor 3 times, you still do not have a diagnosis, and are still sick, then you'll have to play the penalty round: Diapers That Reek. In Diapers That Reek we'll show you disgusting diapers that must be evaluated and identified as Normal Disgusting Duds or Unusual Nastiness Indicative of Disease.
Then you'll play our final round of Spread It Around! We'll give you a bag of infections items, such as tissues, pillow cases, sneezed-on artifacts, and parcels of puke. You will lodge these balls of bedlam at your team members while they race to get ready for school. If you can infect each and every member of your family before they can get out the door, thereby keeping them home, you'll win the game! Good luck and let's get sick!
Seriously, I'm so done with the illnesses. We've all had the flu, Miss Moo and Chris have had allergy induced bronchitis, Chris has been coughing since November, Miss Moo's nose is on a constant drip setting, Chris has a new sinus infection and Pleurisy (which I'm still trying to understand as it sounds more like a board game than a lung problem). We have stocked the bathroom with inhalers, nebulizers, antibiotics, narcotic pain killers, steroids, over the counter cold remedies, a lifetime supply of tissue and throat lozenges. And I could probably fill Lake Michigan with all the water I've poured into the humidifiers.
I. Hate. Winter. Furthermore, I don't trust Winter. Winter and his BFF Illness are bad guests that don't know when to leave. Just when you think they're on their way out--the sun shines and the snow melts--they hit you again! Turns out the sudden change in weather was a recipe for a fever and diarrhea. The symptoms descend upon you just as the wind chill hits -20 so that you can take your child to the doctor looking like a Titanic survivor. There will soon be a shortage of chickens thanks to all the chicken soup I'm dishing out. You better get yours now because Winter strikes again.
Last night I tucked Garrett into his bed and he said, "Mommy, my eye hurts."
I said, "Your eye hurts? Let me see." Garrett opened his eye wide and there was nothing there that I could see. "That's a good eye. It just needs a rest."
Then Garrett really opened his eyes wide. "Arrest! I don't want to be arrested."
"No, not arrest. I mean A REST. It needs to sleep. That's a tired eye. I bet it won't hurt in the morning." The innocent child believed me. Heck, I believed myself.
After a fitful sleep last night--thanks to Mary sneaking in my bed just after I fell asleep and Chris coughing half the night--I went through the usual morning routine. We all buzzed around doing our part to get out the door on time. It wasn't until I had filled my coffee mug that I really got a good look at Garrett. His eye was puffy, bloodshot, and oozing, with icky crusty stuff cemented to his three-foot-long eyelashes. It was a bit shocking. "What happened to your eye?"
Garrett was unconcerned. "Oh, mommy, that's just my eye that needs to sleep."
"Good Lord, that eye needs more than sleep." I tried to get the crusties off with a warm wash cloth, but dried puss stuff is much more stubborn than it looks. I looked up at Chris, exasperated by yet another pox on our house. "I think that's Pink Eye. And if it is, he can't go to school."
Chris took a long sip of his coffee and rolled his own sleepy eyes. "I'll Google it." My own mommy search engine--Moogle!-- knew that Garrett was headed for the doctor. Chris came back down the stairs with his report. "It's highly contagious. He definitely needs to go to the doctor. He can't be around people for at least 24 hours. I saw pictures. That looks like it." Moogle is faster. I was already washing my hands before he hit the stairs. And I was cursing the Gods. Why couldn't Garrett get pink eye on Friday when he has "administrative inservice" day off of school? Or next Monday when he is home for President's Day? Nooooo, he has to be quarantined today, on my Monday.
So, we went to the doctor. He stood about 10 feet away from Garrett and washed his hands with nuclear soap. He gave me the really bad news: I have to wash everything that Garrett has touched, slept on, or winked at. We trotted off to the pharmacy for the antibiotic drops where Garrett begged me for an eye patch. The eye patch and the drops only cost seven bucks. This is our cheapest illness of the season! I feel like a winner! That is until Mary gets it and we have to shell out another co-pay and buy more drops. Come to think of it, my eyes are a wee bit itchy. Pink eye x 4 = $80. I swear to you, I could have taken a trip to Paris with all the money we've put down for health care this winter.
I wonder what is the next contestant on Catch That Illness. I'm going to put my money on head lice. Whatever it is, I'm on the lookout for ambiguous symptoms, diapers that reek, and the like. For now, all I can do is dodge the germs. So far I've been safe, except for that flu. Thanks for joining us, now it's time for Wash Everything You Own.
We'll start our show with a suspenseful round of Ambiguous Symptoms. Each member of your family will display symptoms that may or may not require medical attention. When you can name that illness, hit your buzzer. You'll earn a co-pay for each illness that you correctly identify.
The winner of this round will be asked a bonus question about a random set of symptoms: Do you need to go to the doctor? Depending on your answer, you'll move on to Pay The Doctor or Raid the Drugstore. In Pay The Doctor, you may or may not receive verification that you are sick or contagious, but you'll pay the doctor anyway. You have to play this round until you know what you have or run out of money. If after Paying the Doctor 3 times, you still do not have a diagnosis, and are still sick, then you'll have to play the penalty round: Diapers That Reek. In Diapers That Reek we'll show you disgusting diapers that must be evaluated and identified as Normal Disgusting Duds or Unusual Nastiness Indicative of Disease.
Then you'll play our final round of Spread It Around! We'll give you a bag of infections items, such as tissues, pillow cases, sneezed-on artifacts, and parcels of puke. You will lodge these balls of bedlam at your team members while they race to get ready for school. If you can infect each and every member of your family before they can get out the door, thereby keeping them home, you'll win the game! Good luck and let's get sick!
Seriously, I'm so done with the illnesses. We've all had the flu, Miss Moo and Chris have had allergy induced bronchitis, Chris has been coughing since November, Miss Moo's nose is on a constant drip setting, Chris has a new sinus infection and Pleurisy (which I'm still trying to understand as it sounds more like a board game than a lung problem). We have stocked the bathroom with inhalers, nebulizers, antibiotics, narcotic pain killers, steroids, over the counter cold remedies, a lifetime supply of tissue and throat lozenges. And I could probably fill Lake Michigan with all the water I've poured into the humidifiers.
I. Hate. Winter. Furthermore, I don't trust Winter. Winter and his BFF Illness are bad guests that don't know when to leave. Just when you think they're on their way out--the sun shines and the snow melts--they hit you again! Turns out the sudden change in weather was a recipe for a fever and diarrhea. The symptoms descend upon you just as the wind chill hits -20 so that you can take your child to the doctor looking like a Titanic survivor. There will soon be a shortage of chickens thanks to all the chicken soup I'm dishing out. You better get yours now because Winter strikes again.
Last night I tucked Garrett into his bed and he said, "Mommy, my eye hurts."
I said, "Your eye hurts? Let me see." Garrett opened his eye wide and there was nothing there that I could see. "That's a good eye. It just needs a rest."
Then Garrett really opened his eyes wide. "Arrest! I don't want to be arrested."
"No, not arrest. I mean A REST. It needs to sleep. That's a tired eye. I bet it won't hurt in the morning." The innocent child believed me. Heck, I believed myself.
After a fitful sleep last night--thanks to Mary sneaking in my bed just after I fell asleep and Chris coughing half the night--I went through the usual morning routine. We all buzzed around doing our part to get out the door on time. It wasn't until I had filled my coffee mug that I really got a good look at Garrett. His eye was puffy, bloodshot, and oozing, with icky crusty stuff cemented to his three-foot-long eyelashes. It was a bit shocking. "What happened to your eye?"
Garrett was unconcerned. "Oh, mommy, that's just my eye that needs to sleep."
"Good Lord, that eye needs more than sleep." I tried to get the crusties off with a warm wash cloth, but dried puss stuff is much more stubborn than it looks. I looked up at Chris, exasperated by yet another pox on our house. "I think that's Pink Eye. And if it is, he can't go to school."
Chris took a long sip of his coffee and rolled his own sleepy eyes. "I'll Google it." My own mommy search engine--Moogle!-- knew that Garrett was headed for the doctor. Chris came back down the stairs with his report. "It's highly contagious. He definitely needs to go to the doctor. He can't be around people for at least 24 hours. I saw pictures. That looks like it." Moogle is faster. I was already washing my hands before he hit the stairs. And I was cursing the Gods. Why couldn't Garrett get pink eye on Friday when he has "administrative inservice" day off of school? Or next Monday when he is home for President's Day? Nooooo, he has to be quarantined today, on my Monday.
So, we went to the doctor. He stood about 10 feet away from Garrett and washed his hands with nuclear soap. He gave me the really bad news: I have to wash everything that Garrett has touched, slept on, or winked at. We trotted off to the pharmacy for the antibiotic drops where Garrett begged me for an eye patch. The eye patch and the drops only cost seven bucks. This is our cheapest illness of the season! I feel like a winner! That is until Mary gets it and we have to shell out another co-pay and buy more drops. Come to think of it, my eyes are a wee bit itchy. Pink eye x 4 = $80. I swear to you, I could have taken a trip to Paris with all the money we've put down for health care this winter.
I wonder what is the next contestant on Catch That Illness. I'm going to put my money on head lice. Whatever it is, I'm on the lookout for ambiguous symptoms, diapers that reek, and the like. For now, all I can do is dodge the germs. So far I've been safe, except for that flu. Thanks for joining us, now it's time for Wash Everything You Own.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Birthday Woman, Can You Save Us?
I detest planning birthday celebrations. I always think I have enough time to plan and then I get distracted and time very stubbornly does not stand still while I take care of the usual things and then it's "Oh crud, Garrett's birthday is in two days."
I blame my failure to plan my child's birthday party on the following conditions that are, of course, not (entirely) under my control.
1) Garrett's birthday is in January; that's much too close to Christmas. I'm still tired from Christmas. In fact, I think I still have to put some dishes away from Christmas dinner. And I need a full year before I can see another toy come into the house. I am suffering from TPTSD--a rare condition in which one looks around and can see only toys and then starts to flip out. Flipping out might involve suddenly donating everything you own to Good Will or spending $500 on various storage containers in an effort to make the toys more invisible. People with TPTSD are also known to rise from a dead sleep and scream, "I'm a grown up! I'm a grown up! Where are my things?!" Unless we have a Mommy Dearest style birthday party in which Garrett is only allowed to keep one gift lest he be spoiled rotten, a birthday party and it's associated loot is sure to send me over the edge.
2) There is no good place to have a fun filled party for boys in January. Boys are meant to run around and chase each other with sticks and other weapons while wearing capes. My house is not Gotham City, therefore it would be crazy to have an indoor party here. I don't belong to a country club, children's museum, or the like. I don't think the library will allow pizza. It is far too cold to take the party outside. There have been times when I've thought, "We can just have the party here... we'll just order pizza... it will be fine.... " But then I come back to reality and remember that I live in a Craftsman style bungalow, not a Chuck-E-Cheese. Hey, how about a party at Chuck-E-Cheese? (Fade to a dream sequence of having party at Chuck E Cheese: Children laughing and screaming violently, cold pizza, never-enough tokens, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding! Pow Pow Pow! Germs. A giant mouse in a hat.) Slap yourself. Fade back. Take two aspirin for the virtual pain.
3) Parties require party gear and acquiring it is not part of my skill set. I don't know the first thing about renting a bounce house or hiring a magician or clown. I admit that I could learn how to do this--and perhaps offer up my experience to the Yellow Pages Ad committee--but after much consideration I arrive at the next point.
4) In these crazy economic times, who wants to spend $350 for a bounce house? Actually, it would have to be a Bounce Igloo. I don't even feel good about having a party that requires bringing a gift. I admire those people who have a party in which Junior requests that you donate a book to the school library in lieu of a gift, but I'll bet Junior thinks that's the worst birthday he's ever had when he goes to bed that night. This is childhood, not a book mobile. (I feel so guilty for thinking that, I'll probably donate 10 books to the school with the next Scholastic order from that comes crammed in Garrett's backpack).
5) Finally, the biggest problem with advance birthday planning is that we all have the Pox and it wouldn't be fair to spread our diseases to well-meaning children and their families. Maybe it's not the Pox, and maybe it's just Chris that has it, but it's something bad and he has enough of it to cause a nuclear breakdown of our entire family system. This cursed, unidentifiable illness is something that makes you cough until you rupture your internal organs; something that causes fluid to build up in places that fluid is not meant to be, such as the lining of your lungs; something that requires your wife to refill humidifier tanks 5 times a day and shovel snow every other minute; something that prohibits your wife from saying, "Can you bring down the laundry?" or "Can you take the kids to school?" I can honestly say that this beast robbed me of my right to live 12 months of this year because it single-handedly took January!
I ask you: How am I supposed to organize a party for 6 year old boys under these circumstances? And even if I did organize it, how am I supposed to manage this group of scurvy pirates on my own? I'm not going to volunteer to walk the plank!
Wouldn't it be great if, like the police chief of Gotham City, I could send a signal from my roof and light up the night sky with a birthday symbol, perhaps a giant cupcake, summoning a super hero that fights Birthday Stress? Where is Birthday Woman when you need her? I can see it now. Darling Chris is sick in bed with humidifier mist swirling all around him. I kneel at his bedside and say, "Woe is me. Garrett's birthday is in just two days and you show no signs of recovery. I've waited too long to plan and now we are doomed. Our son will have no fond memories of his 6th birthday. He will grow up to be an evil villain who hates us. Who can save us now?"
Chris sputters and blows his nose. He's disabled, but not brain dead, and masterminds a brilliant plan. "Go to the roof, send out the signal of distress to Birthday Woman. She's the only one who can help us now." Since I've been shoveling snow for days, I consider the obvious. "But, darling, it's freezing out there. What if Birthday Woman freezes when she responds to our call? What will all the privileged children with Spring, Summer, and Fall birthdays do?" Chris reminds me that if Birthday Woman can shoot flames from her fingertips (a handy superpower for lighting candles), she can surely arrive warm and unharmed.
I climb to the roof and nearly kill myself on the ice, but that doesn't stop me. I will myself forward because I will do anything to get out of planning a child's birthday party. I hit the signal and behold a giant cupcake lights up the sky. Within minutes Birthday Woman arrives and she is even more magnificent than I imagined.
Flames shoot from the soles of her multicolored snow boots as she jets to the roof. Streamers flow from her hair and her super suit is made out of Mylar. She has a flaming cupcake on her torso. "Birthday Woman, thank God you're here. Garrett's birthday is in two days and I haven't sent out invitations, or ordered a cake, or rented a hall, or bought him a gift. My husband is ill. My daughter messes up the house faster than I can clean it. Can you help us?"
Birthday Woman's response is quick and decisive! "There is no time to lose," she says, "A six-year-old's broken heart is at stake." She whistles and summons her assistant, the Eager Eagle, and magically produces invitations that Eager Eagle will drop in children's mailboxes throughout the neighborhood. She scoops me off the roof and returns me to the warm house. She pumps Chris with Vicodin and hands him a mop. She tells me to relax and save my energy for the party. I sit comfortably in the living room, propped with pillows and drinking a Mai Tai as I watch Birthday Woman shoot party decorations from her wrists. Helium baloons and ribbon are sprung from her supersuit Spidey style. Suddenly, the Eager Eagle returns with a bag of gifts from Target and Best Buy. With super fast Karate style motions, Birthday Woman wraps the gifts in Birthday Woman Gift Wrap and once again shoots ribbon from her wrists to put on the finishing touches. She stands with her feet wide and her hands on her hips and activates her Cupcake Communication System with a simple command. A small screen emerges from her cupcake torso. "Birthday Woman to Party Pad. Come in Party Pad."
A robotic voice emerges from her screen. "Party Pad standing by. Proceed."
"Party Pad, we need 4 pizzas to arrive at 12:00 Saturday. Two pepperoni, two cheese. Also, one Batman Birthday cake, six candles."
"Refreshments?"
"Affirmative. Apple juice all around, and Mimosas and Bloody Mary's for parental units."
"Do you require Party Pad Entertainment, Birthday Woman?"
"Affirmative. Send the Dueling Pirates and Mr. Magic. And hurry!" Birthday woman turns to me and refreshes my drink. "My work is done here. I'm getting a signal to help another family in birthday distress in Nebraska. The Party Pad will take over from here."
"Thank you Birthday Woman! But, I have one question. How will I keep my daughter from destructing the incredible work you've done here? Once she sees these ribbons and balloons, she'll devour them like a tree monkey on crack."
"Not to worry. Everything you see here is only visible to the Adult Eye. When the clock strikes 12 on Garrett's birthday, it will be visible to children too. The Party Pad People will look like ordinary people. But, at Bedtime Saturday night, all of this will disappear. There will be no clean up. You must make sure the party ends with your child's bedtime."
"Thank you, Birthday Woman. We'll never forget you."
Yes, Birthday Woman would take care of everything. Then she'd blast off into the sky, snow boots aflame, and leave me to take all the credit. Other mommies in a 1 mile radius would ask themselves, "How does she do it? And so soon after Christmas!"
But that didn't happen. There was no Birthday Woman. No Healed and Helping Hubby. No Dueling Pirates or Mr. Magic. But there was a Batman cake and presents. Some friends of ours invited us over for chili. With no other birthday plan in place, we said, "Sure, we'll bring dessert." Garrett didn't really know the difference between a formal party and a night of chili. He got to play with a Wii, so he was happy. We sang happy birthday, he selected the part of the Bat Cake that he wanted, he ate with glee. We've been opening presents Hanukkah style--one a day. The TPTSD is under control for now. I ordered Garrett about 7 books from the Scholastic order form.
Today the snow is melting and Chris is about the same. The sunshine is giving me a great idea: I can plan a super cool end-of-the-year party for Garrett's class. I have 4 months to plan. Plenty of time!
I blame my failure to plan my child's birthday party on the following conditions that are, of course, not (entirely) under my control.
1) Garrett's birthday is in January; that's much too close to Christmas. I'm still tired from Christmas. In fact, I think I still have to put some dishes away from Christmas dinner. And I need a full year before I can see another toy come into the house. I am suffering from TPTSD--a rare condition in which one looks around and can see only toys and then starts to flip out. Flipping out might involve suddenly donating everything you own to Good Will or spending $500 on various storage containers in an effort to make the toys more invisible. People with TPTSD are also known to rise from a dead sleep and scream, "I'm a grown up! I'm a grown up! Where are my things?!" Unless we have a Mommy Dearest style birthday party in which Garrett is only allowed to keep one gift lest he be spoiled rotten, a birthday party and it's associated loot is sure to send me over the edge.
2) There is no good place to have a fun filled party for boys in January. Boys are meant to run around and chase each other with sticks and other weapons while wearing capes. My house is not Gotham City, therefore it would be crazy to have an indoor party here. I don't belong to a country club, children's museum, or the like. I don't think the library will allow pizza. It is far too cold to take the party outside. There have been times when I've thought, "We can just have the party here... we'll just order pizza... it will be fine.... " But then I come back to reality and remember that I live in a Craftsman style bungalow, not a Chuck-E-Cheese. Hey, how about a party at Chuck-E-Cheese? (Fade to a dream sequence of having party at Chuck E Cheese: Children laughing and screaming violently, cold pizza, never-enough tokens, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding! Pow Pow Pow! Germs. A giant mouse in a hat.) Slap yourself. Fade back. Take two aspirin for the virtual pain.
3) Parties require party gear and acquiring it is not part of my skill set. I don't know the first thing about renting a bounce house or hiring a magician or clown. I admit that I could learn how to do this--and perhaps offer up my experience to the Yellow Pages Ad committee--but after much consideration I arrive at the next point.
4) In these crazy economic times, who wants to spend $350 for a bounce house? Actually, it would have to be a Bounce Igloo. I don't even feel good about having a party that requires bringing a gift. I admire those people who have a party in which Junior requests that you donate a book to the school library in lieu of a gift, but I'll bet Junior thinks that's the worst birthday he's ever had when he goes to bed that night. This is childhood, not a book mobile. (I feel so guilty for thinking that, I'll probably donate 10 books to the school with the next Scholastic order from that comes crammed in Garrett's backpack).
5) Finally, the biggest problem with advance birthday planning is that we all have the Pox and it wouldn't be fair to spread our diseases to well-meaning children and their families. Maybe it's not the Pox, and maybe it's just Chris that has it, but it's something bad and he has enough of it to cause a nuclear breakdown of our entire family system. This cursed, unidentifiable illness is something that makes you cough until you rupture your internal organs; something that causes fluid to build up in places that fluid is not meant to be, such as the lining of your lungs; something that requires your wife to refill humidifier tanks 5 times a day and shovel snow every other minute; something that prohibits your wife from saying, "Can you bring down the laundry?" or "Can you take the kids to school?" I can honestly say that this beast robbed me of my right to live 12 months of this year because it single-handedly took January!
I ask you: How am I supposed to organize a party for 6 year old boys under these circumstances? And even if I did organize it, how am I supposed to manage this group of scurvy pirates on my own? I'm not going to volunteer to walk the plank!
Wouldn't it be great if, like the police chief of Gotham City, I could send a signal from my roof and light up the night sky with a birthday symbol, perhaps a giant cupcake, summoning a super hero that fights Birthday Stress? Where is Birthday Woman when you need her? I can see it now. Darling Chris is sick in bed with humidifier mist swirling all around him. I kneel at his bedside and say, "Woe is me. Garrett's birthday is in just two days and you show no signs of recovery. I've waited too long to plan and now we are doomed. Our son will have no fond memories of his 6th birthday. He will grow up to be an evil villain who hates us. Who can save us now?"
Chris sputters and blows his nose. He's disabled, but not brain dead, and masterminds a brilliant plan. "Go to the roof, send out the signal of distress to Birthday Woman. She's the only one who can help us now." Since I've been shoveling snow for days, I consider the obvious. "But, darling, it's freezing out there. What if Birthday Woman freezes when she responds to our call? What will all the privileged children with Spring, Summer, and Fall birthdays do?" Chris reminds me that if Birthday Woman can shoot flames from her fingertips (a handy superpower for lighting candles), she can surely arrive warm and unharmed.
I climb to the roof and nearly kill myself on the ice, but that doesn't stop me. I will myself forward because I will do anything to get out of planning a child's birthday party. I hit the signal and behold a giant cupcake lights up the sky. Within minutes Birthday Woman arrives and she is even more magnificent than I imagined.
Flames shoot from the soles of her multicolored snow boots as she jets to the roof. Streamers flow from her hair and her super suit is made out of Mylar. She has a flaming cupcake on her torso. "Birthday Woman, thank God you're here. Garrett's birthday is in two days and I haven't sent out invitations, or ordered a cake, or rented a hall, or bought him a gift. My husband is ill. My daughter messes up the house faster than I can clean it. Can you help us?"
Birthday Woman's response is quick and decisive! "There is no time to lose," she says, "A six-year-old's broken heart is at stake." She whistles and summons her assistant, the Eager Eagle, and magically produces invitations that Eager Eagle will drop in children's mailboxes throughout the neighborhood. She scoops me off the roof and returns me to the warm house. She pumps Chris with Vicodin and hands him a mop. She tells me to relax and save my energy for the party. I sit comfortably in the living room, propped with pillows and drinking a Mai Tai as I watch Birthday Woman shoot party decorations from her wrists. Helium baloons and ribbon are sprung from her supersuit Spidey style. Suddenly, the Eager Eagle returns with a bag of gifts from Target and Best Buy. With super fast Karate style motions, Birthday Woman wraps the gifts in Birthday Woman Gift Wrap and once again shoots ribbon from her wrists to put on the finishing touches. She stands with her feet wide and her hands on her hips and activates her Cupcake Communication System with a simple command. A small screen emerges from her cupcake torso. "Birthday Woman to Party Pad. Come in Party Pad."
A robotic voice emerges from her screen. "Party Pad standing by. Proceed."
"Party Pad, we need 4 pizzas to arrive at 12:00 Saturday. Two pepperoni, two cheese. Also, one Batman Birthday cake, six candles."
"Refreshments?"
"Affirmative. Apple juice all around, and Mimosas and Bloody Mary's for parental units."
"Do you require Party Pad Entertainment, Birthday Woman?"
"Affirmative. Send the Dueling Pirates and Mr. Magic. And hurry!" Birthday woman turns to me and refreshes my drink. "My work is done here. I'm getting a signal to help another family in birthday distress in Nebraska. The Party Pad will take over from here."
"Thank you Birthday Woman! But, I have one question. How will I keep my daughter from destructing the incredible work you've done here? Once she sees these ribbons and balloons, she'll devour them like a tree monkey on crack."
"Not to worry. Everything you see here is only visible to the Adult Eye. When the clock strikes 12 on Garrett's birthday, it will be visible to children too. The Party Pad People will look like ordinary people. But, at Bedtime Saturday night, all of this will disappear. There will be no clean up. You must make sure the party ends with your child's bedtime."
"Thank you, Birthday Woman. We'll never forget you."
Yes, Birthday Woman would take care of everything. Then she'd blast off into the sky, snow boots aflame, and leave me to take all the credit. Other mommies in a 1 mile radius would ask themselves, "How does she do it? And so soon after Christmas!"
But that didn't happen. There was no Birthday Woman. No Healed and Helping Hubby. No Dueling Pirates or Mr. Magic. But there was a Batman cake and presents. Some friends of ours invited us over for chili. With no other birthday plan in place, we said, "Sure, we'll bring dessert." Garrett didn't really know the difference between a formal party and a night of chili. He got to play with a Wii, so he was happy. We sang happy birthday, he selected the part of the Bat Cake that he wanted, he ate with glee. We've been opening presents Hanukkah style--one a day. The TPTSD is under control for now. I ordered Garrett about 7 books from the Scholastic order form.
Today the snow is melting and Chris is about the same. The sunshine is giving me a great idea: I can plan a super cool end-of-the-year party for Garrett's class. I have 4 months to plan. Plenty of time!
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