Totally Awesome Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Party

The only thing Cole wanted for his 4th birthday was a bike.

And the most epic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle party ever.

No pressure. No pressure at all.

So we got the boy a bike. A ninja turtle green bike... wrapped in whatever non-Christmas wrapping paper I could find in the basement. Nice. {And helmet of course}

And had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bowling and pizza party {after all ninja turtles love pizza}. Boom. He wasn't nearly as excited about the bowling as I was. I mean, what's more exciting than chasing eight kids around the town's oldest bowling alley? Which did work out in our favor because the place was empty.

 

Ninja turtle birthday cake of course. Someone show Cole this pictures when he's 17 and thinks I never did anything fun for him.

Cole must talk about ninja turtles A LOT at school because every single present was a ninja turtle something or other... costumes, weapons, figures, lunch box, bank, blanket, clothes, you name it, it was screaming cowabunga dude!

I can't believe all of these babies are four! Shouldn't they all still be in Ms. Nora's infant class together? Cole, Gio, and Iris have been in daycare together since they were three months old! From left to right, Gio, Trevin, Damien, Cole, and Iris. Missing: Pearl, Gabby, Parker, Sasha, and Gemma. Oh and Grandpa & Grandma Jewkes, Grandpa & Grandma Spring, and Jeff and I.

Trevin or "T" as Jeff calls him was so excited to come to the party. He's our funny little neighbor kid who asks his mom almost daily if he can come over to Jeff and Jenny's house.

After bowling, we had our families come over for pizza, salad, and lime rickeys. It was a full day of birthday party-ing fun!

And I am totally, totally exhausted!!! These birthdays are killing me!

An apology letter to my Mother

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry for crying {a lot} when you made me wear jeans for family pictures.

I'm sorry for crawling through the kitchen window that one night... and for getting caught.

I'm sorry for staying out really, really late my first year of college talking with a friend in the church parking lot {note: it was NOT Jeff... it was a girl I lived by}. And that you had to come and find Rachel and I and kick both of our butts home.

I'm sorry for all the forgotten birthdays.

I'm sorry for rewinding the end of the original 1963 Incredible Journey over and over again. And then laughing at you each time because you couldn't stop crying when Luath, Tao, and then old Bodger finally came down the hill reunited with his family after an amazing, 200 mile journey. I get it now... it's a tear jerker.

I'm sorry I begged and begged for you to play with my hair in church when all you probably wanted to do was have a few minutes of peace and quiet, and a chance to feel anything that would make you feel like the effort of dragging kids to church would be worth it someday.

I'm sorry for whining every time you wanted to drive around and look at the Christmas lights.

I'm sorry for complaining about dinner.

I'm sorry for not cleaning my room when you asked.

I'm sorry for not picking up the dog poop. OK, so that's a sorry for you and Dad.

I'm sorry for spilling that bowl of Cheerios all over the floor. And Dad's shoes.

I'm sorry I rammed into that dumpster and shattered the stupid van's tail light. And that that tail light was apparently rare and one of a kind because it cost me about $500 to fix. 

I'm sorry I got mad at you when you wanted to call my soccer coach and give her a piece of your mind. Which she deserved.

I'm sorry for all the times when you were sick and we still demanded dinner.

I'm sorry for all the Mother's Days that went by without a phone call, present, or even a lame card. 

I'm sorry for all the times I said you were the worst mom ever and I hate you.

I'm sorry we never let you pick where you wanted to go for dinner or watch what you wanted to watch.

I'm sorry for all the times you felt inadequate.

I'm sorry that I don't remember all of the sacrifices you undoubtedly made for us.

I'm sorry for all the times I complained that I didn't want to do something that was important to you. Or cooperated when we "had" to.

I'm sorry for not believing you when you told me I was cute and to buy that bikini.

I'm sorry I fought with you over clothes and never wanted to go shopping with you.

I'm sorry I acted like a spoiled, entitled brat.

I'm sorry I thought I'd never forgive you for making me move into our first house and neighborhood with all the "mean" kids who have become some of my most wonderful, lifelong friends.

I'm sorry I didn't believe my friends when they said you were cool.

I'm sorry I blame you for my gross feet. But you know it's true :)

I'm sorry that you felt overwhelmed.

I'm sorry that I never thought being mom was the last thing you wanted to do after a long day of work.

I'm sorry I thought you were the only Mom who was late to pick up their kid from soccer practice.

I'm sorry that first sewing lesson project {a simple drawstring bag} cost you $80.

I'm sorry for calling you at work because Jesse and I were fighting. 

I'm sorry for all the times that you wanted to sell us to the Gypsies. {You should have}

I'm sorry I had and still have a hard time telling you I love you.

I'm sorry I gave you a hard time for shrinking my favorite sweater in high school.

I'm sorry for all the times you felt unappreciated and unloved.

But most of all, I'm sorry I never knew how hard being a mom was. Because now it's my turn. And I'm worn out. Guilt ridden. Angry. Frustrated. Lost. And feel like a complete failure. 

Thanks for everything Mom.

{Oh, and only you will get this... Jesse did it}

Grandma's Peonies

My peonies are in bloom. Well, they were in bloom before the weekend storm came in. Now their fragrant petals are scattered all over the yard.

Peonies always remind me of my Grandma Jewkes. 

My Grandma had a huge mound of peonies in her front yard. Because they lived next to the neighbors' on the corner, the peonies created a sort of barrier between the East side of their front yard and the neighbors' side yard. 

Every spring those peonies would bloom. Big, beautiful, fragrant blooms of deep pink. 

And then the grandkids would find them. 

Growing up it became a tradition that we attempted to be the grandkid who could jump over the mound of peonies - which had to be at least 3 feet tall - without knocking off any of the petals. Sometimes we could talk my Dad into jumping the peonies too. My Grandpa would come out and yell at us to stop jumping over them because it was going to knock all the petals off {and peonies don't last long anyway}, but Grandma always let us. I'm pretty sure Grandpa was just teasing us because he always smiled as we tumbled over them. Except when we really turfed it and kicked more than just the petals off.

It seems fitting that my peonies bloom near Mother's Day each year. They remind me of one of the most selfless, humble, loving, amazing women I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I miss my Grandma. I wish she was here to talk to, to watch her lick her fingers while she cooked a gourmet meal, to sit and stitch with, to go shopping with {while Grandpa sat in the car waiting for us}, or to watch her read Gone With the Wind sitting in her favorite chair in her robe. 

I loved those peonies.

Stay off the road

I walked out to my truck tonight to drive my YW home and FREAKED OUT when I saw a busted taillight! I came home and blurted out to Jeff that I promised I didn't break the truck. He sat there emotionless, which was not the reaction I was expecting from him especially considering our recent car repairs. And then he looked up at me, smiled, and confessed he already knew because he had broken it loading the 4 wheeler on the trailer! 

What? 

First of all, how clueless am I to my surroundings when this happened on Saturday. And two, Jeff is no longer allowed to drive anywhere while taking sinus medications.

Dentist

I hate the dentist. I had so many cavities and root canals {double in a couple of teeth} not to mention I had two caps put on as a kid that to this day I'm terrified of the dentist. I even have a bridge over three of my teeth and found out I need another cap on a molar because it had a root canal done when I was little and now has a small fracture in it. The only interesting, non-terrifying part of my checkups is seeing my little baby molar {under a cap} that is still hanging on by one tiny root. Neither my Dad or I have permanent molars or wisdom teeth. Weird genetics.