Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Okay, So I Don't Bake

Thank you for the birthday wishes for Tommy. They are appreciated.

I have some birthday pictures to share.

Because what would a birthday be without pictures?


First I decorated the living room and set out some presents the night before.

It was a good thing because I heard Tommy at 6:30 screeching, "It's my birthday!"

I am not a morning person. But I forced a smile on my face and stumbled into his room. I think I startled him because he went, "What's wrong with your eyes, Mommy?"

Then I realized they were half-closed.


We headed downstairs and I asked Tommy if he wanted me to make him eggs or pancakes.

Because he's lived with me for seven years and knows how I cook, he declined and asked for Apple Jacks.

Then he dug into his presents:

You see Hulk's expression? That's basically how I looked.

I'm kidding.

I sort of felt that way though. I wanted to go back to bed.

Then I drove Tommy to school. We brought in cupcakes. I did not make these cupcakes.

Tommy told me seriously, "Most Mommy's make cupcakes."

I replied, "Most Mommy's know how to make edible food."

This silenced him.

Okay, I CAN make cupcakes. But not fancy ones like a lot of mothers do. I usually just buy the Betty Crocker frosting in a can and slather it on top of the cupcakes. If I'm feeling really festive, I toss sprinkles on top of that.

But some mothers, I've found, make their own frosting. And take the time to dye that frosting. And take the time to use one of those fancy frosting tips so that the cupcakes look like they were store bought.

I don't have fancy frosting tips. I don't see the point. If I want a fancy cupcake, I'll run out and buy it.

So yeah. We bought cupcakes at Wal-Mart.

Trust me, it was just safer that way.

So I drove Tommy to school and Tommy told each kid that we passed, "It's my birthday. I'm seven. Mommy didn't make these cupcakes, she bought them."

Thanks, son.

When we got to his classroom Tommy told his teacher matter-of-factly, "These are cupcakes. My Mommy didn't make them because she burns stuff."

The teacher found this amusing but tried to hide her smile in case I found it offensive.

Don't worry, I didn't.

I know I'm not the best cook. I've accepted this.

I tried to kiss Tommy goodbye before I left but he dodged my lips.

"MOM-ME," he shrieked, his eyes wide with shock. He looked like he was about two seconds away from hopping inside of his cubby or something.

"Oh. Sorry," I replied.

Apparently you can't kiss seven-year-olds at school anymore.

I keep forgetting.

I ended up blowing him a kiss, which Tommy pretended not to see.

Then I came home and pulled out the huge box that contained Tommy's new bike.

"Please put this together," I told Tom and plopped it in front of him.

He gave a long sigh. He knew that I had bought a bike but was not pleased that it came from a box.

"Amber," he said. "How many times have I told you NOT to buy a bike in a box?"

I pointed to the box. "But it says it's easy assembly."

Of course it really wasn't. Trouble started right away when Tom tried to screw the pedals on.

The problem was that they wouldn't go on.

So Tom screamed some choice words and shouted at me to get some wrench that I hadn't even heard of before. Then when I told him that I didn't know what he was talking about and could he at least draw me a picture or something, he exploded again.

Excuse me! I don't know tools. But ask me where the purses are at Target and I can tell you right away. The laundry detergent? Oh, just go straight back and you can't miss it.

He eventually got the pedals on. Apparently he was screwing them in in the wrong direction.

I tried not to laugh at that.

It just wouldn't have been the proper time.

I set the bike out for Tommy so he'd see it right when he came home from school.

Tommy's reaction to the bike.

"Holy sh*t!" he bellowed.

I had to pull him aside and explain that we don't use words like that. Even on our birthdays.

After apologizing for using a profanity, Tommy tried out his bike.

Soon after that, we went to Texas Roadhouse. Once again I offered to cook something for Tommy.

His response? "I'll take Texas Roadhouse. I know how you cook."

Hey, I can make a mean plate of spaghetti.

But a person can only have so much spaghetti.

I didn't mind though. I love Texas Roadhouse. They have the best rolls.

Here we are at the restaurant.

We all enjoyed the rolls. Mmm, carbs.

Tom was all, "You just love embarrassing me, don't you?" He couldn't believe that I brought the camera. Out in public.

Natalie got a little impatient so I dove into my secret weapon. My purse. And then I pulled out another secret weapon. My keys. Forget toys! Just hand your kid a bunch of keys. Or a cell phone. Which I gave to her next. She somehow managed to change my background which is something I didn't even know how to do.

Natalie just sits beside me in the booth. We learned early on that she refused to sit in the high chairs. Maybe they were beneath her, I don't know. But each time we'd put her in one she'd stand up and shout, "HI!" to the entire restaurant and then attempt to climb out. This made patrons nervous and we'd constantly hear shouts of, "She's making an escape for it!" "Look out!" Yes fellow resturant people. We can see.

After we ate, we came home and had cake.

Also made by good old Wally World. Tommy took awhile to figure out what cake he wanted. I let him flip through the cake book and he'd be all, "I want that one...no wait..THAT one...WOW a military cake! That one! WAIT! LOOK AT THIS ONE!" I thought he'd pass out from the excitement.

He blew out his candles.

And then opened more presents.

The dang Hot Wheels toy upset me to the point where I was about to hurl it out the window. I couldn't figure out how to put it together. It's really humbling when your seven-year-old can figure it out before you can.

I also did a birthday photo shoot with Tommy:

"What's with that expression, Tommy?" "I'm being a model," he answered.

He came up with all these poses. He explained, "It's what models do."

"This lollipop has a weird smell, Mommy."

Then he gave me this expression and I figured we were done.

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