Celebration Time!

This time of year is a CRAZY time for us. Joe and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary near the end of the July, then we celebrated Joseph and Grant's 11th birthday in the beginning of August, and we celebrated my 31st birthday the following day. (If they had been born an hour and a half later, all three of us would share a birthday.) It's a whirlwind of celebration and it's always hard to come back to reality after it all.

Of course there were some fun (and funny) moments to share:

Joseph really REALLY wanted baseball cards for his birthday and Grant really REALLY wanted a remote control airplane. Unbeknownst to me, Joe bought them these things for their birthday. Their birthday was on a fast Sunday (where we fast two meals on the first Sunday of every month). The boys who have been baptized have been fasting one meal on these Sundays instead of two, to help try and break them into it. On these Sundays, everybody who's fasting comes into Mom and Dad's room and says a silent prayer about what they are fasting for. Later Joseph said to me, "Mom do you think it's ok that I fasted that I would get baseball cards for my birthday?" I thought, oh no! It's Sunday and it's too late to buy him baseball cards for his birthday. I didn't want his sweet faith to be crushed. I was about to go into a difficult explanation of the folly of trying to ask God to give us things for our own personal gain, yada yada yada, but decided not to and simply said, "Go ask Dad." Joe told him he could fast for anything he wants--a simple answer and very true. We can fast for whatever we want; we might not get it, but we can still ask for it.

So Sunday evening came, we had the family over for a party, J and G opened presents and lo and behold, Joseph got baseball cards and Grant got a remote control airplane. To say they were thrilled, excited, etc. is an understatement. They were jumping up and down, screaming with delight, joy, euphoria....It was as sight to behold. Too bad I didn't take a video. I guess that's what happens when your kids aren't used to getting what they ask for on their birthday.

Now, to rewind a little bit:

My mom and little sis, Sheraden, came over the birthday weekend to celebrate with us. On Friday we went to a water park/aquatic center. A wonderful time was had by all.


Saturday evening we had a little celebration with my mom and Sheraden since they had to leave the following morning and wouldn't be at the family party Sunday night. Joseph said he wanted ice cream for dinner so we served scoops of ice cream on top of waffles and doctored them up with sundae toppings.


And fast forward to my birthday on Monday:

After lunch, I walked into my room and found chocolate bar wrappers on the bed, and smears of chocolate on the sheets and pillowcases, but no chocolate. Later, Joe explained that the girls had been playing on our bed while he was getting dressed for work earlier and they found the chocolate he hid under my pillow as a birthday surprise. He said, "They are their mother's daughters." So true.

That afternoon a pacakge came from my sister, LeAnn, with a few books inside. I curled up on the couch, let the kids watch movies and play computer games and I read...and read....and was still reading when Joe walked in the door at 4 pm with his colleague who had just arrived from China. Ada sitting on the table in nothing but a soggy diaper eating out of a bag of spilled potato chips isn't exactly something I'm proud of. Nor the sink full of dishes, the living room full of clothes, shoes, and toys, etc. I put aside my mortified feelings long enough to compose myself and greet Frank (the colleague from China). Then Joe told me to go rest in the bedroom and he would get everything cleaned up and ready for my party that night. I'm only a little bit embarrassed that he convinced his Chinese colleague to wash my sink full of dishes. That night Joe and his mom put on a wonderful dinner for me. I had a fabulous birthday!


Since then we've been enjoying the rest of summer and getting ready for another homeschool year.