Scrambled Thoughts VI

1.  You might just have to get used to the idea that every single post from now until the end of this pregnancy could be titled Scrambled Thoughts...

...because that seems to be all my brain is capable of right now.  At least I'm numbering them, and using the cool way: Roman Numerals.  That way you still get variety, you see.

2.  When you turn three years old, you should get three parties.  

 If you do, that's how you'll know you're loved.  If you don't... well... who am I to judge?  First party for Miles was with Nana, Poppy and the gang.  Poppy lit the match on his jeans and we all cheered for him.  Then we cheered for Miles because he was so skilled in blowing the fire out.  Then we ate cake.  And discussed the question, does anyone really love birthday cake? 

The cat seemed to love it, anyway.

Second party was with friends at Lake Powell.  Miles was a bit grumpy.  He preferred to sit at a table by himself and scowl.  But the rest of us had fun.  Hey...  it's his party and he'll cry if he wants to.

Since this was his actual birthday, the kids and I worked hard to turn the day around for him. 

We had a six hour car ride home from Powell (that came closer to seven because I got on the freeway going the WRONG WAY after filling up with gas and, as luck would have it, the next exit wasn't for 18 miles), we stopped in a cute little town called Panguitch (I've always wanted to visit Panguitch after seeing the sign so many times on my little vacations growing up.  I knew it must be cool with a name like Panguitch - it did not disappoint) and had Chubby burgers and ice cream.  Deeeeeelicious!
He was much happier after that.

The third party was thrown by Grandma.  Fun that Miles and his Uncle Steve have birthdays close enough to throw a joint party!  Steve was nice enough to let Miles blow the candles out on the cake.  We opened presents, said hello to Daddy on the iPhone, played with a 'conversation volleyball', and destroyed a colorful pinata.  Spoiled, loved little boy, this one!

3.  When you turn six your parents still love you, even if you don't get six parties.

"If you could do anything you want on your birthday, what would it be?" I asked.  He thought for a minute... no... he thought for three seconds before a grin spread wide over his face and he started jumping up and down.  "Chuck-E-Cheese!"  Okay then.  Plan birthday party - check.  He and Brian played about thirteen games of basketball (really.  Count them) and got a zillion tickets from it.  Then we all ate a $20 cardboard pizza.  Best. Party. Ever.

He invited his two best friends and after the Chuck-E-Cheese festivities, we traveled back to the house for presents, cake and ice cream.

No words.  No words to describe how much I love this boy.  The other day as I was folding laundry, I had to pause and hug one of his shirts - just thinking about him and his sweetness is enough to send me to tears.  But we'll have to turn that into another blog post on a day I'm feeling a little more... put together in the head. 

4.  Popsicle jokes are not very funny.

But you have to laugh at them anyway.  And then you have to laugh a few minutes later when it's told again.  And then the next day as you're driving home in the car.  And then a week later when it pops up around the dinner table.  And all the times in between.

Also, you should not ever buy your kids a joke book.  Unless you have the patience of a saint.  Or unless you have a knack for producing adequate laughs when your gut reaction is to gently take the book from the child's hands and tear it into pieces.  Sometimes I bring up a laugh imagining that...

5.  You should seriously consider getting a pair of Carson's new shoes. 

Apparently they can make you jump higher and run faster.  Plus, they light up when you walk.

6.  Never burn garlic powder in the microwave.

Never, never, never burn garlic powder in the microwave.  And, if you read online that the way to suck moisture out of your hard block of garlic powder is to put it in a brown bag and microwave it for three minutes, it LIES!  It might burst into flames and produce thick, golden, billowing smoke that will seep from the sides and then flood out the door when it's opened.  Then you'll have to evacuate yourself and your kids from the house because every time you try to inhale you end up sputtering coughs and dripping tears from you eyes.  "Get down on the floor and crawl out the back door!" you might yell to your kids.  Looking up at the ceiling, you might not even be able to see which corner your smoke detector is in.  But when it goes off, then you'll remember.  After a time, you'll probably be able to go back inside the house, but when you do you might see that the smoke has gone throughout the whole house and left a golden yellow haze, plus a film, over everything... especially in the cupboard directly over the microwave.  Let's hope that cupboard doesn't hold every single dish you own.  This would create a ton of dishes for you to do.  Plus, trust me, the smell of burnt garlic mixed with smoke is a terrible, terrible smell.  And, if you're pregnant, it might make you vomit several times over the next month because that smell could linger.  And linger.  And linger.  But maybe you'll have great kids who are willing to take all the dishes out of the cupboards, wipe the shelves with a happy smelling Clorox wipe, and load the dishes in the dishwasher.  Twice.

Better to just not burn the garlic in the first place...