We went to a "Jump and Bounce" birthday party today. It was hellish, if you want the truth, in that wonderful, chaotic, breathless way that a only a warehouse full of two-year-olds, beach balls, bouncy castles, cake and juice can attain.
On the bright side, I only had to haul my pregnant ass into my greatest nemesis - the obstacle course bouncy thingy - and fish one of my screaming children out of it twice. New bouncy party record!
Gee has become completely obstacle course self-sufficient. It's a huge milestone. On previous visits, he has won the title: "Most Likely to Be Eaten by the Obstacle Course and Disappear Forever." At thirty-four weeks pregnant with Cue, I had to climb into that damn obstacle course and rescue my two then two-year-olds about eleventy-billion times. That's the official tally. Because each time counts as at least eleventy-million when you are round and about the size of the stupid, pregnant-woman-eating obstacle course entry hole.
In other amazing news, Cue was able to climb the slide ladder BY HIMSELF. Praise the God of Jumpy Thingys. I can not properly put into words how tiring it is to haul a toddler up that slide ladder. It's a big honking balloon. It gives when you step on it. Well, it gives when I step on it. There is absolutely no limit to the amount of times a toddler can climb the ladder and slide down that slide. Infinity-bazillion times would not suffice. We get to the bottom and he's already signing more like a demented seal, as fast as his little flipper paws can sign.
Do you know the sign for more? If you have/know toddlers or you have ever had the misfortune to attend a toddler birthday party, I bet you do. Tuck your thumbs into your palms, face your thumbs to your belly and then bang your finger tips together as hard and as fast as you possibly can. Enthusiastically. With great emotion.
Feels kind of good actually, doesn't it? MORE BALLS! MORE SLIDE! MORE CAKE! MORE JUICE! MORE BALLOONS! It's hard to resist that kind of exuberant request. Maybe Matt should try it some time. Aha. Ahem.
All hellishly good things must come to an end, or at least that's what their caffeine-deprived mother told them. We bailed with Cue screaming inconsolably because I had the audacity to tie his third and final helium-filled balloon to his belt loop so that it would not join his first two balloons on the warehouse ceiling. His seal brain failed to comprehend that I could not retrieve it there no matter how many times or how hard he banged his little fingers tips together. Mommy magic has limits, baby boy.
Ess and Gee tried their hardest to cause a wreck on the way home by maximizing their annoyingness with helium balloons. It's a huge talent to hit each other with helium balloons while strapped into five-point harnesses in different rows of a large minivan. They can't put on their own shoes, but they can aim and whack backwards at four feet separation. Cue alternatively hugged his properly-secured helium balloon in fierce, loving exhaustion and howled in outrage when it slipped from his grasp and floated to the van ceiling.
I was sweaty and thirsty and tired and my head hurt from the noise (oh, the noise) and I was a little bit concerned about the IQ of my baby because, for the love of god, pull the freaking string which is conveniently tied to your car seat and the balloon will magically descend. A well-trained seal could figure this out.
But, I felt joyful. And lucky. Luck laced with such fragility that some days I'm afraid to touch it for fear it will shatter and other days I hold on to the string with both hands for fear it will float away.
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I think most of you know what a huge joy in a little package left this world on April 7, 2009. If you have a little joy in your heart to spare today, and you haven't already, we can help. Heather and Mike are struggling to meet the expenses of the service celebrating Maddie's life. All of the links are at the top of my sidebar. Over three-hundred posts say it far better than I ever could.
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