Archives for September 2009

I’m pretty impressed with Grand Rapids these days. Right now, for the first time a competition called ArtPrize is taking place and I cannot remember if I have ever seen the streets so filled with people – people so excited about their town, people so excited about ART.

I’ve been out twice to check out the art – and I have barely scratched the surface of all there is to see out there. There are some exhibits we’ve seen twice (Pumpkin is particularly enthralled with Nessie – the “Loch Ness Monster” that is placed in the river).

Yesterday, we happened downtown at just the right time to see 100,000 Paper Airplanes over Monroe Avenue. This was an event/exhibit that was talked about ahead of time – but sadly, I had about three days of newspaper outside that I hadn’t yet brought into the house (But I still subscribe even if I don’t always read it – so, yay me?).

There’s a bit of something for everyone – there’s interactive art – there are sculptures – there are awesome things being made with recycled glass – there are things that make you smile – things that make you think. I have LOVED taking my children and watching them enjoy art – watching them get excited about the next thing. Watching the look on Pumpkin’s face as she gives something a thorough look, or a smile spreading across The Princess’s face when she sees a sculpture that pleases her.

It’s been pretty cool.

Grand Rapids, I’m impressed.

See that little thing on my hand?

That’s a bead.

That’s the bead that Pumpkin apparently put in her ear Sunday night sometime after she was tucked in. The Princess led her downstairs in a panic at about 9 p.m. telling us, “Pumpkin has something stuck in her ear.”

SURE ENOUGH.

It was too far in to just flick out with a finger. It wasn’t going to fall out on its own. I called the afterhours number – and within minutes a nurse was on the phone with me telling me that we had to either get it out or bring her into the emergency room. In the mean time, Hubby called a neighbor who happens to be a physician’s assistant and asked if he could come over and take a peek in her ear. The PA graciously said he’d be right over (Awesome, right?).

The nurse recommended tipping Pumpkin so the ear with the bead was facing the floor. She then said to wiggle the ear around in hopes that the movement plus gravity would get it out. IT WORKED. Minutes later, the PA showed up with his handy-dandy tool kit — fortunately, we didn’t require his help…this time. I have no doubt in my mind that we should probably put the guy on speed dial, though. Just in case.

I learned a very important lesson this weekend. The lesson? My sister chose me to be her Maid of Awesome (or MOH for you traditionalists) for a reason – because really, there was no one better suited to stand up for her on her big day. No one has known her as long, and perhaps no one knows her as well.

I thought I was doing her a favor letting her friend plan the party – letting someone younger take the reins. I mean, shucks – it’s been awhile since I went to a bachelorette party. Of course, the last one I went to involved going to a dueling pianos bar and I loved the whole thing (and it’s what I would have done had I carried through with planning Saturday’s event) – I just wanted my sister to have a good time.

I relinquished control… and I never do that.

Big mistake.

If you are hosting a bachelorette party, here’s a short list of some DON’Ts:

1. DON’T forget to consider what kind of party the bride would want.
If she’s not crazy about walking around with a plastic phallus around her neck, maybe you should reconsider those accessories. She’s not a “hit the dance floor and dance all night” kind of girl? Maybe you shouldn’t pick THAT PARTICULAR BAR. If the bride would be happier hanging around someone’s living room, sharing a few drinks, opening gifts, and laughing about old times: THROW HER THAT KIND OF PARTY.

2. DON’T up the skeeze factor.
Sure, it’s her “last night out” – but attempting to send her on a scavenger hunt to kiss strangers and take pictures of random “butts of hot boys”? Some people are into that. Your bride might not be. OUR BRIDE WAS NOT.

3. DON’T expect the bride to pay her way. Or yours.
The bride really shouldn’t have to bring more than her ID and her lipgloss (or whatevs) for her night out. Not sayin’ the planner needs to foot the entire bill – if you don’t have a ton of cash, plan a low key night – OR get the other party-goers to chip in a few bucks to pay the bride’s way. Usually, if you keep your party plans in line with your budget – it’s NOT a problem.  But if you start crying poor in the middle of the evening so that the bride pulls our her wallet to pay  your cover into yet another bar where the bride does not wish to go, the odds are pretty high that the bride’s sister (AKA MAID OF AWESOME) will get very upset with you.

When all was said and done, my sister’s friend had planned a party that she, not my sister, would enjoy. My sister had a miserable time – made even MORE miserable when her friend hit her up for half of the over-priced hotel that she’d booked for the party.

The night I’d have planned for my sister probably would have cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $40 – 50 for me (versus the $400 this one seemed to morph into), and she would have had more fun. Bigger is not necessarily better. Sometimes less is more. And if it’s the thought that counts, you should be thinking of the right person.

P.S. I’m so glad all the showers and parties are done. We’re in the home stretch now.

Pumpkin is fascinated by dinosaurs.

She is so fascinated that when we go to the library, we now bypass the kiddie section with the Biscuit board books and make a beeline for the children’s nonfiction section where she prowls the shelves for just the right dinosaur books that she’ll start looking at once we get into the car.

These books contain sometimes graphic depictions of T. Rex’s eating their prey. She doesn’t care. She’s not scared. She knows they’re all dead.

She can identify the different types of dinos – not just T Rex and Triceratops… but Stegasaurus. Apotosaurus. Brachiosaurus. Deinochyrus. Cryolophosaurus. (I didn’t look any of those up – the stuff’s sinking in with me too).

For her birthday, my grandmother asked what Pumpkin wanted. I told her: dinosaurs. My grandmother said, “I’m not getting her dinosaurs. Something something Barbie something something blah blah blah.” And I was a bit upset. First of all – Barbie? Eh. Second of all, you asked what the child wanted, she wants dinosaurs — and really? How cool is that? She doesn’t just like playing with the figurines (though, as you can see in the picture above, she really DOES like playing with the figurines), she likes flipping through the books, checking out the illustrations. She likes to talk about dinosaurs. A few weeks ago, a little boy at daycare approached her with a dinosaur. “ROAR!” he said, “I’m going to eat you all up.” Pumpkin looked at him and the dino in his hand and scoffed, “That’s a PLANT EATER.”

Yes, indeed.

You never know what is going to catch your kiddo’s fancy. The Princess has actually loved things that are all pretty much things I love: reading, writing, music. Pumpkin’s interests are giving me a learning experience too, and that’s actually kind of cool.

We are in the homestretch for planning my sister’s wedding – the Big Day is about three weeks away and we’ve got a bachelorette party coming up (I’m a little bit scared about that, to be honest), rehearsals, rehearsal dinner, and today was the third of the THREE bridal showers hosted in my sister’s honor.

This shower, hosted by the groom-to-be’s awesome stepsister, was an awesome event held at a beautiful country club. The decor was simple yet festive, the food smelled terrific as we arrived, the centerpieces were potted perennials that my sister could take home and could plant at her new home. Perfection.

Until.

Minutes before the scheduled start time of the shower, my sister’s heel of her shoe SNAPPED OFF. The heel of her high heels she purchased less than 24 hours prior just snapped right off her shoe. UH OH.

Our first thought was, “Break the other heel off” – but the thing you might not realize is that when the heel breaks off a high heel, the front of the shoe curves up – almost like little elfin shoes. Not cute.

Okay. Glue?

Well, there were still nails or screws or whatever the shoe people used to hold the heel in place on the shoe – so the heel wouldn’t fit flush to the shoe despite the massive amounts of Super Glue used. The glue started dripping EVERYWHERE and it got a little messy.

My mom said to my sister, “Just take off your shoes and go barefoot!” and my sister was appalled. “MOM! This is NOT the kind of place you go barefoot!” I offered to let her wear my shoes – I knew they’d be a smidge big, but hey, I don’t mind going barefoot. Who’d be looking at my feet anyway? She refused.

But then the manager of the country club said, “Hey, I’ve got a pair of shoes in my car… let me go get them.” They were little small, but my sister put them on and was able to carry on with her shower. This woman definitely went above and beyond in loaning a basic stranger HER OWN SHOES, but she did it. And really? They were some pretty cute shoes.

After the shower, my sister put her broken shoes on and we drove to Target to return them. As we walked through Target, she still refused to go barefoot, instead clomping horse-like in her uneven shoes. As we wandered towards the shoes, I could hear the people behind us snickering and we’d turn around and fill ’em in on the weird shoe adventure.

In the end, she actually purchased the same shoes she’d borrowed earlier (in her size, of course). Adorable shoes, $20, Target. Here’s hoping these don’t break.

Beyond footware malfunctions, the shower was lovely. The food was great, most of the guests behaved quite nicely, and it was a pretty mellow time. Also, BEST. CUPCAKES. EVER.