Have you ever woken up the morning after a large dinner and find that you are still full? Well, I'm still full from Thursday night. I made a birthday dinner for my mom that would have made Paula Deen quiver at the cholesterol content: fried chicken with cream gravy, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, lima beans, fresh peaches, and grilled texas toast. Let's be honest- I was full three bites into the meal. But, as a card-carrying member of the Clean Plate Club, it was my duty to finish. Because if you don't eat every single morsel of food on your plate, you don't get dessert. That's the way it's always been and it makes perfect sense. "Natalie, finish ALL of that fried chicken if you want some cake. And don't forget that drop of gravy." Why are we fat in America? No idea. I think the problem lies with organic produce.
The kids decorated the birthday cake in one for me, one for you style. I did make them wash their hands quite often, but that didn't stop the chocolate drool.
Friday morning, I could barely *think* of eating anything else. I dare say not even Taco Bell could have done the trick. Luckily, we spent a good part of the day prepping food for the next day's party. What party, you ask? Well, my parents threw Eve a "Yay, You're Done with Chemo!" party. It was not only to celebrate the end of treatment, as I explained to the kids, but also to celebrate Natalie and Daniel's roles as SuperSibs. While Nat and Dan both understood the reason for the season, Eve just kept exclaiming, "Yay, it's my birthday! I get birthday cake!" Not exactly, Eve. Although there were presents and there was cake.
And there was some food.
All that eating and playing must have worn the kids out, but you'd never be able to tell when it came to bedtime. No naps, a few hours past when they normally go to bed, and these children were still going wild. Eve would find an old bruise or scab and tell me she got a new boo-boo, and I would go upstairs to put on yet another band aid. "I need boo-boo cream, momma!" I couldn't find the Neosporin, but she was ok with the Mary Kay foundation I used instead. It kind of made the bruises look more even.
After finally getting the troops in bed, I went downstairs to relax with my friends for a little while. Until Eve woke up. And it wasn't even really Eve. It wasn't even really Downstairs Eve. It was more like Hysterical, Where the Hell Am I?!? Eve. Anyone who thought they knew what overtired looks like has not seen this version of Eve. Thankfully, when all else fails, the child can be calmed down by turning on Mulan. (Doe Wipe and Dungle Book, move over. We're now into Moo-wan.) Five minutes later, she was asleep in the recliner, the chair that was designed for sleep.
The kids all slept in on Sunday. This is very unusual. This happens once every four years. This was nice and this was needed. Eve went back down for a nap a few hours after she gotten up, and Daniel fell asleep on the couch. I was a little jealous of him, because sleeping on the couch is one of my favorite low-impact activities. Natalie, my mom, and I played games while the others slept, and Nat took the title of Miss Unoverse. That kid is cut-throat at Uno!
After dinner, my cousin brought over her kids and Natalie proceeded to orchestrate two sixth graders around the house in a game of babies and mommies. (I believe she was the mommy.) Always outgoing, Nat is kind of like a chihuahua that doesn't know she's smaller than the other dogs, so she has no fear. Although the other dogs never know how much younger she is since Natalie is my baby Amazon. She's five, looks eight, acts thirteen.
Time to head back home. As soon as the kids were in bed, and I literally mean AS SOON (did I sleepwalk from the girls' room to my bed? Perhaps.), I was out. It's been said that trying to keep up with Natalie, Daniel, and Eve is like herding cats. Herding cats is exhausting.
So now we're back home to the land of Nascar and nuts. And even though we're not up on the Hill fighting for childhood cancer research money, there is an easy way to get some dollars into the right hands if you are on Facebook: Vote for Pablove to receive a grant from Chase Community Giving. Do it, or else Downstairs Eve version 2.0 will hunt you down. The Pablove Foundation was founded by the parents of Pablo Castelaz, a beautiful little boy who died of bilateral Wilms tumor. Check them out and click to vote. Because seriously, this is the way things are going to get funded. Congress might shine you on, but Pablove will not.