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My son Logan celebrated his 9^th birthday this weekend by inviting a few friends to join him for some indoor go-cart racing and then a sleep-over. It was a pivotal change in the way we’ve celebrated birthdays here in the past.

To give you a clue at how over-the-top we used to go around here, take my daughter Whitney’s simple observation when she was 3 years old: “It’s not your birthday until there’s a big, giant, bouncy slide in the back yard.”

So, we finally went with a low-key birthday celebration around here, not the usual three-ring circus of events with tons of kids, presents and preparation. A level head finally prevailed.

It just happened to belong to a nine year-old.

I still wanted the big, giant, inflatable slide.

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Birthday Momservations™ :

There’s pretty good odds the guest of honor will nap through their one year-old birthday party.

No matter how you wrap it, new clothes just don’t register the excitement of a new toy or even a cardboard box.

Reserving an inflatable bounce house for a party is a modern day rain dance.

She who spends hours making special birthday cake shall be rewarded with tears for Hannah Montana ice cream cake instead.

Never turn your back on frosting tester.

The amount of money spent on a birthday party seems inversely proportional to the likelihood of said birthday boy/girl coming down sick the day of the party.

Buying extra party favors, strangely enough, still does not guarantee you won’t come up short at the end of a party.

Always wear long sleeves and long pants when sliding down a giant, inflatable slide – or at least have plenty of band-aids for inflatable slide novices and their friction burns.

It is virtually impossible to get through a birthday party without someone crying.

If you’re going to throw huge birthday extravaganzas for any child under six, then buy a good camera and take lots of pictures because in a few years, you’ll be the only one who remembers it.

It’s a good weekend when you don’t have another birthday party to go to.

For each additional child you allow to be invited, add an additional half hour of fighting over the completion of thank you cards.

Any amount totaling over $50 in Target gift cards for a child is a waste and should be contributed to the greater good of the family.

A slumber party for girls requires a completely different survival plan than a slumber party for boys.

It is possible to have too much of a good thing evidenced by the melt-down of the birthday girl or boy.

A gift worth giving is a gift worth receiving is a gift without a gift receipt being re-gifted.

Chuck E. Cheese is just wrong on so many levels.

My son may look like his father but he wakes up like his mother. Grumpy, growly and not fit for human interaction for at least twenty minutes. Coffee is pointless.

My little carbon-copy daughter was spared at least one of my genes, thankfully, and didn’t inherit my vampire like aversion to first morning light. Like her father, she wakes up perfectly delightful, eager beaver for the day, cracking a joke before her eyes even open.

The way I see it, the early bird may get the worm, but us late birds know the brunch buffet is ten times better so you might as well sleep in.

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Today’s morning interactions:

Mommy (snuggling up next to a fuzzy mop of hair poking above the covers): Time to get up little boy blue come blow your horn, sheep’s in the meadow, cow’s in the corn.

Logan (disappearing like a Whack-a-Mole under the covers): No Mom! I’m still tired! Don’t touch me -- I need to go peepee.

With that I left him alone since it sounded eerily similar to what I told his Daddy when he came snuggling over Sunday morning. I can respect a non-morning person needing their space respected. I moved on to little miss Whit.

Mommy (snuggling up next to a squirrel’s nest of hair poking above covers): Good morning little miss sunshine! What do you want to wear to school?

Whitney (eyes still closed, smile spreading across her face giving away her suppressed chuckle): I’m wearing my bed and I’m not going to school.

Mommy (showering kisses on her rosy cheeks): Oh yes you are. But the bed stays. Does this mean you’re going in your chonnies?

Whitney (popping up to stand triumphant on her bed in all her blue, cammo underwear glory, huge grin on her face): I’m going streakin’!

With this she jumps over me, off her bed onto the floor and darts out of the room to beat her groggy, tinkle-taking, grumple-headed brother to the TV remote.

I laugh, because I’ve already laid in bed for twenty-minutes, warming up to the day like a classic car. If I hadn’t, I would’ve probably found her annoying rather than adorable.

Like her father, I love that these two people in my life are so eager to greet the day and what it has to offer.

Just leave me and Logan out of it and send us the all clear.

In an ongoing effort to be able to eat chili cheese fries and all the Ranch dressing I could blissfully drown myself in (the kind made from scratch – there is no substitute), I train for and participate in sprint distance triathlons.

It is a great exercise motivator because if you know you’re going to need to be able to complete a half mile open water swim, a fifteen mile bike and a three mile run all in one sitting, you kind of want to be prepared for it so you don’t die.

See, the thing is, with the run if you’re tired you can walk. With the bike if you’re tired you can coast. With the swim if you’re tired – you drown.

Seems a high price to pay for Ranch dressing – even if it is the super special kind made with real buttermilk.

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I’ve never been a quitter. I won’t stop reading a bad book, I’ll keep watching a lame movie and I will sport-eat anything left on a table at dinner despite the caloric damage I know I’m doing.

So when I signed myself up for the Golden State Triathlon held this last weekend – despite nearly record low morning temperatures for the day (42 degrees), 20-40 mph freezing winds, and an American River topping out at a balmy 62 degrees, I sucked it up and went for it.

I’m either flippin’ crazy or I really need another hobby.

But here’s what kept me motivated: my husband getting up early on his day off, collecting the kids, getting them cozied up and snack supplied and all of them going out to Discovery Park with me to support and cheer on their crazy wife/mother.

So when I had to slip into that full-body wet suit and convince myself I could still feel my hands, feet and face and seriously considered peeing in my wetsuit to warm me up – I just looked over at my family and drew courage from their belief in me.

When the frigid current of the river made swimming in the gym pool when the heater was broken seem like the white sand beaches of the Bahamas - I let the cheers of my family from the bridge above me ease my doubts.

When the arctic blasts of wind hit my wet body and I was unable to feel my feet or hands on the bike, and I was nearly blown off the course by huge gusts while wrestling with trying to open a Power Bar even Houdini couldn’t escape from - I drew strength from the proud faces of my family as they cheered each of my laps.

During the run when I could still not feel my frozen feet and had a calf muscle ready to throw in the towel since my brain wasn’t smart enough to stop, I  knew that I could not quit now because I had my family at the finish line eagerly awaiting my triumphant arrival.

And make it I did, with the elements against me but my biggest fans applauding my accomplishment.

I think the biggest victory in the experience was my kids seeing their mother practice what she preaches:

• Even when things seem overwhelming and insurmountable that giving up is easy, but choosing to finish is worth the reward that accomplishment brings.
• Dare to try new things.
• Don’t give up in the face of adversity – use it to build character.
• Use your support system.
• Always challenge yourself – you’ll be better for it.

And if one day, my children use me as a source of inspiration in achieving their own goals and surmounting their own obstacles, it will have been the best race of my life.

But mainly it’s great to know my kids think their mom is a bad-a**. I think I can use this for leverage during the teenage years.

Had to help my son with his 3^rd grade book report project this last week. Here’s what went well with it:

• He was prepared. The book was read well in advance. He had an idea of what he wanted to do to meet the criteria for an advertisement billboard. He wanted to buy the poster board and get started well before the due date.
• He was receptive to guidance. Since he had never done this type of project before and he’s only eight, he realized Mommy might actually have some valuable advice and strategies worth listening to.
• He managed his time well. He worked on it a little each day of the week so it didn’t become overwhelming. There was no rush to finish it and he had time to set it aside if he grew frustrated.
• In the end it came out wonderful. It was actually a 3^rd grade level production, driven by his own creativity and eight year old capabilities without too much interference by Mommy.

 Here’s what didn’t go so well with the book report project:

• Creativity is not his specialty. He is a human calculator, but when it comes to arts he is a minimalist. He has no interest in putting a little extra effort into an art project or upping the bar beyond kindergarten stick figures.
• Creativity is my specialty. I had to physically remove myself and drew blood biting my tongue so that this would not become the best 3^rd grade book report I have ever done.
• He wasn’t always receptive to guidance. The fact that Mommy used to be a teacher holds no water in this house. Apparently, I know nothing and his teacher knows everything. The kid can be as stubborn as his mother.
• The “Giving Your Best” talk and semantics. It is a tightrope walk between pushing your kids to do their best and not eroding their self-confidence when they think they are. I think I finally found the right words after retiring for a potty break after we had a joint melt-down over the supposedly finished project. Here’s what I told him when he thought he was done and I thought he could have done a little more:

For each grade of school there are higher expectations of what you should be able to do. Just because it worked in second grade doesn’t mean it’s still good for third grade. You’ve learned more so you should be able to do more.

Tomorrow, you will probably see three types of book report projects. Ones that look like a little more effort could have been put into it. Others that look like a 3^rd grader gave their best effort. And a few that will look like their parents really enjoy doing 3^rd grade book reports. I want yours in the second group. So, this project is good, but how can it be made better?

It just so happened that last Friday was my volunteer day in the classroom. I got to see all the book report projects being turned in. There were some that could’ve used a little more effort. There were many that looked like a 3^rd grader gave their best effort. And there were some where Mommy and Daddy are going to get an A+.

And with little interference and a bit of guidance from Mommy, my son’s project was right where it was supposed to be with his best effort and he was proud of it.

For that I think we both deserve an A+.

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