cameron mills musings: 07/17/08

A par-tay!

Finally, I'm just now getting around to posting the birthday party photos. This year, we opted for a joint venture between Carly and her good buddies Max, Bella & Amelia. Carly, Max and Bella share the same birthday and Amelia's is just a few days later. I'll admit that there were many moments leading up to the festivities during which I feared I was really being a lazy mom opting to co-host a birthday party at a park and not sweat the small stuff like I did last year. But, let me tell you, it was fantastic. Who says Costco can't make a decent sandwich? Certainly not the mom who spent 2 hours roasting red peppers over an open flame last year. Aren't all birthday parties all about the cake anyway? I can tell you for certain that Miss Carly thoroughly enjoyed her party, as well as her cake.

What are you doing guys?

We've reached that point with Carly where the non-stop questions have begun. "Where are you going [mommy/daddy]?" is the catch-all question of choice. Loosely translated, it means "what are you doing?" This question forces me to account for every single thing I do during the day and, let me tell you, it can be quite humbling to admit out loud that "I'm spending 45 minutes cleaning up your strawberry mess" or "I'm surfing the cabinet to come up with some pathetic dinner" or "I'm freaking out reading this article about a lady who found a snake in her washing machine" (seriously, I would not recommend reading that story).

In any case, there have been a few recent gems over which I have found myself stumbling.

Where is the moon mommy? Greg said I wasn't being accurate enough when I said "it's sleeping, just like you will be in a few minutes", but the truth seems a bit out of her conceptual league at this point.

Daddy's car? She has been saying this anytime we hear a screeching noise outside. It refers to the fact that Greg has been ignoring the not-so-subtle belt issue with his car for several weeks now.

Mommy go running? Yeah, not really kiddo. Dad runs, but mom just huffs & puffs walking Sully around the neighborhood hills. And I really can't blame this on a huge belly yet.

TBeeee broken mommy? I may or may not have once told her that the tv was broken and unable to be changed to Sesame Street from HGTV.

More shots of the interrogator...