Wonder Woman Super Mom Party Planner

I've been preparing for Robinson's first birthday party for months, and it's been a labor of love! I've been so inspired by other people's party blogs and sites like Catch My Party and Etsy. I started with an invitation, which guided my choices in theme and color scheme. From there I tried to thoughtfully plan a menu that adults would enjoy but that Robinson and his baby-friends can also eat.

I love to throw parties, but I rarely have the opportunity, so I jumped into planning Rob's birthday party with both feet. Somewhere between constructing a handmade "Happy Birthday Robinson" 10-foot pennant banner and testing made-from-scratch red velvet cake, I realized something. These Wonder Woman Super Moms who plan these elaborate, extravagant, inspiring Super-Sweet-Birthday-Parties typically order their refreshments from a bakery, and/or purchase printable or pre-made party decorations. Never on any of these blogs did I find a party where the mother single-handedly made all the food from scratch and designed and constructed all the decorations from nothing more than cardstock, glue stick and an x-acto knife. It's a minor observation I didn't notice until I was knee-deep in confectioners sugar, with food coloring stains from my fingernails up to my elbow.

What does Wonder Woman Super Mom know that I don't? That there is no glory in making everything from scratch, it's all about the finished product? That doing everything yourself is for suckers? That I just bought a one-way ticket to Crazytown by taking on more than I can handle? What have I gotten myself into? Martha Stewart I am not. I'm no Superman. I meant well--I was just a proud mama approaching this with a can-do attitude, wanting to make every element of Robinson's party with love. Plus, it seemed like fun. And it seemed more economical to do it myself. So far everything is going just fine and I've really enjoyed the challenge. But everything up until now has been planning and staging. As the party looms closer, I've reached the place where the rubber meets the road. I've tested all my recipes over a period of months, but now I have to make them all within 48 hours. And it needs to be delicious. Right now I'm in the middle of crumb coating the birthday cake so I can cover it in fondant and decorate it tomorrow. I tell you all this so that if I collapse in a heap in the middle of my floor, covered in confectioners sugar and red food coloring, everyone will know what happened to me.

I will post party pictures and details when everything comes together! Yeah, I think I've lost my mind, but there's no turning back now! Wish me luck!

The Smoking Crumb

So, last week I baked a cake. Like nice wifeys do. It was red velvet, one of Steve's favorites. I knew I had done well, because he immediately went and pre-cut slices into the entire cake. Then he served himself three slices on one plate.

A few minutes later, I walk into the kitchen and notice that something is askew with cake...

Clearly this is the work of the cupcake bandit, who last struck in September. That case is still unsolved, but I suspected Libby, Steve suspected Laney. I also have to allow for the possibility that it wasn't an inside job.

You should know that I will never pass up the opportunity to feature Stains the cupcake dog on my blog. Even at the risk of getting text messages from friends that say "Nice blog, but you talk about your dogs too much". Anyway, I think this case is all wrapped up, because while I only had a hunch last time, this time I have proof! I present to you: The Smoking Crumb:



It's Libby!

I hearby find that Libby is guilty of the charge of eating dessert off the counter top: a Class A misdemeanor. I sentence her to: being crated whenever I leave the house for the next week, to keep her honest. I gave her a pat on the fanny and asked her if the cream cheese frosting was tasty. Laney sat in the corner seething that she is a good girl all the time and Libby gets frosting and she gets bupkis (yes, Laney knows Yiddish words). We shouldn't have left the cake so close to the edge of the counter. If I were Libby, I would have done the exact same thing. Now that I think of it, I should have given Laney a slice of cake to make things even. Parenting lesson learned: if one kid gets cake, both kids get cake.

What the Hell Did You Eat?!

I'm relieved that my five pounds of Thanksgiving weight gain is now only four pounds, but it still begs the question: "What the hell did you eat?!" Steve and I went to Birmingham for the first time in four years, and while it wasn't a terribly long trip, there was a lot of food to be eaten. When you visit a place you don't often frequent, there are certain restaurants a person just has to visit while in town. While I normally wouldn't think consuming that many calories in a seven-day stretch is healthy or wise, I decided that in this instance I would make an exception in order to satisfy what I call "The Lunch List". It's like a bucket list for fat people. For instance, if I were to vacation in say, Maine, I would add lobster to my Lunch List. When I visit New Orleans, beignets from Cafe Du Monde are always on my Lunch List. When we go to the beach, seafood po boys are at the top of Steve's Lunch List. You get the idea.

So, I don't really think Birmingham is known for a particular restaurant or cuisine, so you may be wondering what was so important to us dining-wise. Here's a play-by-play of last week's calorie binge:

Milo's

If you're from Birmingham, you're probably already singing the jingle "Everybody goes to--Milo's!" I ate at Milo's once in 1997, and it was just "meh" for me. I didn't see what all the fuss was about, but I'm pretty much alone in my opinion. Everybody else goes bananas for it.  See that sauce in the picture next to the fries? Yeah, it's "special". To me, it's somewhere between a sauce and a gravy. You drown your burger in it and dip your fries in it. They're very generous with their onions, too. Also, their sweet tea is so famous, they bottle it up and sell it in the grocery stores. It's the best tea. One of the toughest things about moving to Texas was having to buy Red Diamond tea instead of Milo's. As the wife of a man who has sweet tea running through his veins, I can testify that the first time he realized he didn't have access to Milo's tea was a day without sunshine. Steve ate Milo's twice in the five days we were in Birmingham.

Mellow Mushroom

Famous for it's calzones, Mellow Mushroom is a pizza place found mainly in college towns. It was a favorite place for me to eat in Auburn. Luckily, they have a couple in Birmingham now, and don't think I didn't hit it up while I was there.

Are you gonna finish that?

Jim 'N Nick's

Jim 'N Nick's is a Birmingham institution, with several locations throughout the city, and a parking lot that is always packed. I had to hit up my neighborhood Jim 'N Nick's while I was in Hoover, but not for the reason you might think--famous for their BBQ, I'm a sucker for their...wait for it...grilled chicken salad. With homemade honey mustard dressing and delicious cheese biscuits and chocolate pie for dessert (obviously). It was tasty!

If only we had more time...
Back Yard Burger
Krystal (This one is all Steve! I had no idea anybody eats here outside the hours of 2:00-4:00am.)
Momma Goldberg's

Finally, I can't give all the credit for my Thankgiving weight gain to the aforementioned restaurants. Many other dishes contributed to my badonkadonk. I'd like to thank my mom for the cornbread dressing, chicken 'n dumplings, pot roast and chocolate cheesecake, without which, I might never gain weight!

What Do Mona Lisa Vito and I Have in Common?

What do Lisa Vito and I have in common? We both lament living in a place without access to good Chinese food. I've been thinking about it more recently because I've been really craving it. My cravings have gone unsatisfied, as I text Steve "Too bad the Chinese food is terr-uh-bull!" It's worth noting that I live in Dallas, a city with a rather high Asian population (as opposed to my previous home of Birmingham, Alabama). I believe these Dallas Asians are predominately Vietnamese and Korean. They're good people, but their bread-and-butter seems to be dry cleaners and nail salons, so I look great but I'm hungry.

Back to the Chinese food. I waved the white flag and surrendered my pursuit of good Chinese food in this town after a series of disastrous experiences with local restaurants who have at various times shoved delivery menus into my front door. I use the word "disastrous" because I'm a huge drama queen:

1. I called one delivery place where the woman who answered the phone must have been their grandma from the old country. When I say she spoke zero English, I mean it. I thought we could muddle through, since the menu items are in Chinese, but between her Chinese accent and my southern accent, we couldn't get it together. I finally gave up.
2. I tried a different Chinese delivery place. This one had the wherewithal to have the Chinese-American teenagers answer the phone. But instead of pulling up my billing information using the phone number I gave her at the beginning of the phone call, she used my number she lifted off caller ID. So, I went through the unnecessarily lengthy process of placing the order, only have her tell me she doesn't have my debit card on file. I'm driving, so I can't read my card to her. In frustration, I cancelled the order. Then I cried angry, hungry tears. I was PMS-ing real bad.
3. I've waited over 90 minutes for a delivery I was told would arrive in 30 minutes.
4. When the tardy order finally arrived, we discovered that instead of the two entrees I ordered, we received only one entree. Steve and I had to share (what a frickin' nightmare!) When I called the restaurant in a huff to inform them, I was not given a refund but instead promised a free entree next time I call. Pfft, like there'll be a next time!
5. I've received Mongolian Beef with no beef. Seriously, it was just sauce and peppers and one morsel of meat.
6. I've received Cashew Chicken with no cashews.
7. Not their fault, but in that same meal I received a fortune cookie with no fortune. *headdesk*
8. I've received Sweet and Sour Chicken with no sweet and sour sauce. Now it's just chicken nuggets. Seriously, I would have rather soaked Chick-fil-A nuggets in Polynesian Sauce.

Can I stop now? Have I sufficiently made my case? So...once a year, I get my Chinese fix at P.F. Chang's, and about once a year, I dip into a food court at my neighborhood mall (I loathe the mall) and indulge in some Manchu Wok.

Birthday Treats

So, I've been craving a blizzard from Dairy Queen for about five years now. When Steve and I were dating, we used to visit the Auburn Dairy Queen on Sunday afternoons. I would get a chocolate chip blizzard, and he would get some sort of rich, chocolate brownie/cake/hot fudge sundae thing that would give him a tummy ache. Good times. We are subjected to these DQ commercials every day, but we don't live within 30 miles of a Dairy Queen...until now!

My neighborhood finally got a Dairy Queen, and Steve was there to celebrate the moment. He said there were 100 cars in the parking lot, and at least 20 cars in the drive-thru at all times. I guess the entire town has been craving a Dilly Bar. Unfortunately, the chocolate chip blizzard is not a menu item, and the rookies didn't know how to make it. I had prepared Steve in advance for this possibility, so he brought home my second choice Blizzard: Butterfinger. Yeah, we take our frozen desserts pretty seriously. In case you were wondering, a chocolate chip Blizzard is made by coating and partially filling the inside of the Blizzard cup with the chocolate used for the hand dipped cones. It's heavenly.

So, that was my birthday treat. I said earlier that there usually isn't much hoopla surrounding my birthday, but the dessert is something I never skip. It got me thinking about some memorable birthday cakes over the years. If this were an 80's sitcom, this is the part where you'd see wavy lines on the screen, signaling a daydream/flash back...

My Great Grandmother's 7-up Cake

So yummy, that I've asked her to bake it as my birthday cake more than once.

Yellow Cake with Chocolate Frosting

This is the perennial favorite of mine. It's Duncan Hines, but made with love by my mama.

Johnny Ray's Bar B Que Chocolate Pie

In Birmingham, Alabama I grew up on Johnny Ray's and Jim n Nick's Bar B Que, and they both serve the yummiest chocolate pie. One of my favorite desserts, I once requested "birthday pie" as a child

Cheerleader Cake

Ok, so it was my school's colors--orange and black--and it had my name on it, but this white-on-white confection is reminiscent of my birthday cake when i was 13. And it was delicious
Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Cake

For my 14th birthday, my family surprised me with my cake. My brother chose a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake: chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. He knows me so well! It was delicious, but we only got a slice before Hurricane Opal knocked our power out for four days and the cake slowly melted into a sloppy mess in our freezer.

Cupcake Bandits

Steve offered to stop by the grocery store on the way home from work yesterday. I was grateful, and asked for basics like milk, eggs, bread, and cheese. He came home with chocolate chip cookie dough, Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Klondike Bars, Pop Tarts, and a dozen cupcakes from the Kroger bakery. As I awoke this morning to make a pot of coffee, I noticed three cupcakes were missing. I called Steve to investigate the matter:

Me: So, did you have cupcakes for breakfast?
Steve: Um, no...
Me: Well, three cupcakes are gone and the lid wasn't clicked shut.
Steve: Shut up!
Me: Um, no...the cupcakes had plastic footballs and #1 hands sticking out of them, and I found a couple of #1's in the living room. The cupcakes are sitting directly in front of the coffee maker, or else I wouldn't have noticed, because cupcakes are the last thing I'm thinking about at 7:00 in the morning.
Steve: Cupcakes are not the last thing you are thinking about.
Me: Fine, but today I wasn't thinking about cupcakes, but there they were.

Personally, I like Libby for the job. She's scrappy and has nothing to lose. Steve thinks Laney is the only one the the stealth and grace to take three cupcakes without taking the whole tray to the floor. Then again, maybe this was the work of a professional...

"Can You Take The Heat?" Umm, Yes. Barely.

I just finished my first Spicy Chicken Sandwich, the newest addition to the Chick-fil-A menu. It was everything I thought it could be. And more. It may prove a foolish lunch choice. I sort of forgot for a few minutes that I'm pregnant, and this will probably give me a wicked case of heartburn. It's a risk I'm willing to take though.

My Favorite Things. Alphabetically.

Auburn University. The loveliest village on the plains. The best four years.

Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream

Coconut Lime Verbena. Thank you, Bath and Body Works.

Dyson Animal. The last vacuum I'll ever by (I'm counting on it)

E! Favorite channel. Exclamation point.

 Felix the Cat

Glee. Because I love Sue Sylvester. I love spontaneously breaking into song. I love jazz hands.

Hoop Earrings. The bigger the better. That's what she said.

iPod.

Jarred. The reason I'm not an only child. The reason I'm so happy not to be an only child. The main source of my laughter.

Khloe Kardashian. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Kardashians are everywhere, and this is the one I'd rather hang out with. Say what you will.

Left-handedness. It's a lifestyle, not a choice. Actually, it's just a less common hand dominance.

Mutts. Preferably with big ears, curly tails, and disproportionately long legs.

Napa. Our honeymoon destination. I can't wait to go back!

Orange. My favorite color.

Peacocks. I'm sort of obsessed.

Q-Tips. Well? Have you tried to go a day without using one?

Redheads. They're my people.

Steve. My boo.

TomTom. He's saved my bacon on many occassions.

Us Weekly. It's news. It's entertainment. It's in my mailbox.

Vanilla Latte. Best way to start the day.

Weddings. The love. The optimistm. The cake. 

X-Ray. I may take them for granted now, but if my kid ever swallows a rock...or my wedding ring...I'll be grateful

YouTube. ITube, we all tube.

Z Gallerie. Favorite store ever.

Thanks, Marcie for the idea for this post!

This is How I'll Lose the Baby Weight

Jarred came to see me this weekend. He's such a good little brother. He hasn't seen me all year, so his reaction to seeing his sister eight months pregnant was to :

1. Laugh
2. Whip his phone out, take my picture and send it to all his friends.

Steve does the exact same thing whenever he sees two or more redheads together in one place. My phone will blow up with pictures of redheads and the message: "Look! I discovered a ginger colony!" Yeah, two or more redheads in one place = Ginger Colony.

Since Steve's birthday last weekend went largely uncelebrated, Mom decided to bake him a cake. When the time came to cut said cake, I was behaving in typical indecisive Libra style--mock-slicing the round layer cake with my knife, and asking Jarred, "Should I cut it this way...or should I cut it this way?"

Jarred shakes his head, "Just cut it like it's pie."

"Oh, no! That would make the slices way too big!"

"No, it wouldn't. Here, just imagine that this cake is your lottery winnings. Cut a slice that represents the amount you'd donate to charity."

I. Laughed. So. Hard. Mom thought I was going to go into labor.

Happy Memorial Day, y'all! And may your food portions be as generous as your charitable donations.

Mark Your Calendars!

If this is old news and I'm the last to know, shame on you for not telling me! Between a Pearl Jam and a Blues Traveler song, Pandora played an ad for the new addition to Chick-fil-A's already tasty menu: The Spicy Chicken Sandwich, available June 7. I. Am. Ecstatic. It's the perfect fast food meal, like the time somebody picked up a Wendy's Spicy Chicken sandwich and drove next door and bought McDonald's fries. (Spoiler Alert: it was me.) If I had known sooner, I could have reserved a free sandwich, but no reservations are available in my area now. If only I hadn't eaten so much Chick-fil-A during the second trimester and sworn it off for the rest of the pregnancy, then I would have known sooner. This news is way bigger than the KFC Double Down.

A Pirate Looks at 35

I would be remiss if I didn't say a few words about my boo, who turned 35 yesterday...

Last year we had a party, but this year we painted Robinson's nursery. Or, rather, he painted Robinson's nursery and I did pregnant lady things like keep Steve company and spend an hour meticulously cleaning and disinfecting the door, door frame, and door knob leading into Robinson's room.

I took him out for sushi on Saturday night and gave him a gift certificate for a Swedish massage. On Sunday morning, Laney and I went to Rudy's BBQ and picked up some breakfast burritos for the birthday boy. Laney was happy to ride along with me, but disappointed that the drive thru girl didn't offer her a snack like they do at Double Dip. Next to Rudy's is a large vacant lot that on Sunday morning was filled with RVs belonging to all the Parrot Heads who came to town for Jimmy Buffett's concert at Pizza Hut Park on Saturday night. We would have loved to have seen that show. Nowadays, we're not exactly having a lot of "fun" in the traditional sense, so being in close proximity to fun is kind of nice.

Steve was 25 when I met him. I used to spend Sunday afternoons watching him play golf or going to a movie together. Now I'm watching him paint our baby's room and we're taking afternoon naps watching the History Channel together. What a difference a decade makes! Times have changed, but we're excited for what is in store.

Laney Talks Back

I've said before that I believe Laney understands English, and I know most people think I'm an idiot. Normally, those people would be correct--but I am right about this. Our recent trip to Double Dip Frozen Custard reinforces this belief.

Double Dip is a neighborhood frozen custard stand. For the uninitiated, frozen custard is ice cream's prettier, smarter, more popular sister. If ice cream is Jan, then frozen custard is Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.

It's right down the street, and they have a drive thru, so Laney came along for the ride. Girlfriend's main thrill in life is a car ride, so we take her any place we can. She trotted out the front door and waited patiently by the rear passenger door for me to let her in the back seat, where she sat contently for the entire ride.

We arrive at the drive thru window and place our orders. While we wait, I glance at Laney in the back seat and see that she is now sitting up straight (her begging posture) and is giving the drive thru window her full attention. "Do you think she remembers coming here before?" I asked Steve. She tagged along about nine months earlier for a visit to Double Dip, where the owner offered Laney a teeny tiny cone with vanilla custard. Laney absolutely loved it. Just then, Laney's eyes light up, and her laser stare at the window intensifies, her tail thumps excitedly. I turn my head to see the owner standing in the window. He asks Steve, "Would she like a poochie cone?" Before Steve can utter a word, Laney immediately replies "Ah-roo-er" (it's part bark, part growl, part yodel) as if to say "Yes sir!" I had never heard the term "poochie cone" before, but Laney was picking up what he was putting out and gave an affirmative response before Steve or I could. I said, "I'll take that as a yes," and watched as Laney ate that poochie cone without leaving any crumbs in the car seat. She's a real pro. That was seriously the highlight of Laney's entire month.

My Pregnancy Survival Kit

My third trimester has been marked by my ever-growing shape, and sciatica (predictable and boring). I am also greeted nightly by those crazy pregnancy dreams I was warned about. I know better than to tell you about them, because like Dennis from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia said, "I hate listening to people's dreams. It is like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I'm not in any of them and nobody is having sex, I just don't care." However, since Steve made the observation that my blog is 10% baby-related and 90% my random thoughts, I feel the need to toss a little pregnancy content into this crock pot.

Pregnancy is something no woman should have to go through alone. A little support (ok, a LOT of support) is much appreciated. Also, preganant women love hearing that they look "great", even if they know you're completely lying. It still makes us feel better. File that nugget of wisdom away for future use.

My Show: Chelsea Lately
 

She may not be a fan of redheads, but I ain't mad at her. I think she's hilarious. I've read all three of her books, and while plagued with pregnancy-related insomnia, the fact that her show airs three times between the hours of 10pm and 2am is very comforting. She makes not sleeping easier.
My Dog: George

Food cravings, mood swings, and weight gain. I'm not referring to my pregnancy symptoms, I'm talking about the changes I've observed in George. He's gone from Slim Jim to Danny DeVito, gaining a higher percentage of body weight than I have. He knocks his sisters out of the way and eats their food. I don't even eat off Steve's plate. He wears a bigger harness than Laney, and has fat rolls spilling over it. I told him that at the end of all this, I'm the only one poppin' out a 9-pound baby*, and that he needs pull himself together. That being said, I'm glad I'm not the one waddling around. I am also flattered that George appreciates my new shape. He finds my roundness cozy and sprawls across me like I'm his own personal chaise lounge. Or beanbag chair.

*pure speculation

My Anthem: "Big Girl (You Are Beautiful)" by Mika

Diet Coke and a pizza, please

Diet Coke, I'm on my knees, screaming

Big girl, you are beautiful!

If I have to be perpetually plump, at least I have song I can dance to that celebrates my curves.


My Mascot: Kool Aid Man

We have a lot in common these days, Kool Aid Man and me. We're both round, both red, and both retaining fluid. Only Kool Aid Man is more photogenic than I am.

My Secret Weapon: Maternity Spanx

Dear Spanx,

Thank you for supporting my bump and keeping the wobbly bits in place. I don't know how I ever lived without you.

Cordially,

Samantha
My Triumph: Passing my Glucose Tolerance Test

Only 2-7% of pregnant women develop gestational diabetes, but I just knew I was going to be one of them. You may be thinking, but I ask you: why wouldn't it happen to me? Think about it: only 7-10% of the world is left-handed, and only 1-2% of the world is redheaded, so by my estimation that means that left-handed redheads comprise only about .2% of the world population, tops. I am a left-handed redhead. Why is it so outside the realm of possibility that I would also have gestational diabetes? This message is brought to you by The Samantha School of Logical Thinking.

My Restaurant: Water's Edge Cafe

The crown jewel of Little Elm, Texas (says me) is part cajun cafe, part southern cooking, and is exactly like popping in for dinner at the home of your favorite aunt and uncle. Steve and I stroll in and ask "Whatch y'all cookin' tonight?" I basically don't care what they serve me, because it's all delicious, all made with love, and the fact that I didn't have to cook it or clean it up is an added bonus. Did I mention they make the best breakfast ever? Steve took me there Sunday and it was de-lish.
My Sidekick: Amy

In one of my favorite comedies, Knocked Up, Paul Rudd's character describes marriage as being "like that show Everybody Loves Raymond, but it’s not funny. All the problems are the same, but you know, instead of all the funny, pithy dialogue, everybody is just really pissed off and tense. Marriage is like an unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond, but it doesn't just last 22 minutes...it lasts forever." Well, pregnancy is like an unfunny version of Knocked Up, but without the glamorous broadcasting job, hilarious home pregnancy test sequence, or psychadelic mushrooms. And it doesn't just last 128 minutes...it lasts forty weeks. That's why I am super grateful for a friend like Amy. We chat about all-things pregnancy and baby; from major decisions, to mundane experiences, to calming neuroses and unfounded fears...infused with laughter. She helps make this little journey more fun.

My Advisor: Angie

Part tour guide, part life raft, part voice of reason, I firmly believe that Angie should either come in a pocket-size version or be available as a downloadable phone app, because she is enormously bright and helpful. She's always generous with her time and happy to share her wisdom. Plus she's a helluva lotta fun.

My Rock: Steve

This fella has taken care of me while recovering from surgery, helped prepare our home for baby, and he has even [gasp] read skimmed over the baby books! Without my even asking him to! The journey to becoming a father doesn't really come with a map, and Steve has totally risen to the occassion. He rubs my tired, swollen feet, tells me I'm pretty when I feel like a walrus, and pitches in with the mutts. This baby of ours sure is lucky. Ok, I have to stop before these pregnancy hormones reduce me to a puddle of tears. I can't have Steve come home (again) to find me sobbing,"I...just...love...you...so...much!"