It's My Party...

(we forced this kid into a party hat one too many times)

It all started one year ago....

 (simon tried to help me squish the baby out)

Just over one year ago my sister Bethany flew to Philadelphia to photograph me and my family as part of her BFA final show.  We were really hoping to have her here for the birth of Kimball #3.  She came on a Saturday night, about 2 weeks before I was due.  We knew we had 10 days before she had to leave and that it would be a major bummer if I didn't manage to bust out this kid while she was here.  

(before they broke my water, see how calm I am?)

(after they broke my water, see how much fun I'm having?)

Luckily, and perhaps with the help of a list of labor starters from google, I went into labor in the early morning hours of October 21st and sometime around 11am (I feel really lame that I can't remember the actual time, let's blame that on the excruciating pain of natural child birth) I pushed out a surprisingly chubby little girl, Nora Jane Kimball.

(2 days old and so very sweet)

This year we were lucky enough to have Aunt Bethany here to photograph her first birthday party. I didn't take many pictures, besides the one where she is crying so we are very grateful to Bethany for making yet another trek on the megabus from NYC to Philly.  

Happy Birthday Miss Nora Jane Kimball

Mothers' LIBERATION Day!!!

(Photo courtesy of Bethany Davis.  You should check out her blog.  She is awesome.)

Yesterday I was home alone with the kids.  Mike went to Florida with some friends for the Labor Day weekend and I had just returned from a great week at my sister Sarah's house in Tennessee.  (1300+ miles round trip alone in my van with 3 kids?  Yes, please!) It was Labor Day.  It was also the day before Ada started school.  And as much as I look forward to the first day of school, I am never prepared.  So, despite the downpours of rain and flash flood warnings I set out with three kids to finish up our back to school shopping.  

3 stores, 1 failed poop attempt, 2 soak you to your underpants cloudbursts, 1 successful poop attempt, 1 bruised face, 3 temper tantrums, and $42.79 later we were finished.  Did I mention it was raining?  A lot?  And that I had to go to a K-Mart?  K-Mart for crying out loud! But somehow I smiled through it all.  Why?  Because I knew the next morning was the most magical morning of all of the days...Mothers' Liberation Day.

First day of the first grade.  Lookin' good...and small.  Lookin' real good and real small.

The History of Mothers' Liberation Day:

I remember being borderline offended when my mom used this term when we were kids.  What was the big deal with having 10 kids home all day in the summer? Summer was so great and I am positive that we were absolutely perfect children. I'm pretty sure each day went something like this:











Wake up.
Eat breakfast.
Tell mom I am bored.
Watch tv until mom said we had to do some chores.
Complain about the fairness of the chores and who should really be doing them because they were the ones who really made that mess every day and I never even touched those toys/books/dishes/etc.
Take waaaayyy too long to accomplish the given chore.
Tell mom there is nothing to do.
Watch a rerun of the Fall Guy while eating lunch.
Head to free swim and swimming lessons at the Bergesen's house.
Back home, eat a snack.
Bored again.
Play until dinner.
Eat dinner.
Fight about who should clean up what after dinner.
Ask mom what to do, because I'm bored.
Play some more.
Eat a snack.
Complain about bedtime.
Pass out on my bed.

Doesn't sound so bad right?  Not until you multiply all of that by ten kids.  Each a different age, going a different direction, with different needs and way too many opinions.  Then toss in the occasional road trip and family reunion. And did you notice how many times I had to eat in a day?  Just that alone multiplied by ten is enough to keep the cleanest kitchen in a state of constant chaos.  OK, I totally get it.  The real vacation for all of us hard working moms actually begins on the first day of school, ie: Mothers' Liberation Day.

First day of the fifth grade.  Still lookin' small, but not so good.  Did my glasses seriously have to be that big?

So here's to all of the mothers (and fathers) who survived another summer! I hope you find some quiet time to sit back, enjoy the midday silence and maybe even eat a bonbon or four.

I know I will.

           Ada and her best friend Gigi.         Ada, ready to rock the second grade!

 Unfortunately Grace Nursery School (where all 4 of these dear children are pupils) doesn't start for a few more weeks.  

The Beginnings of Bloggering

Anyone who knows me knows I don't blog. (At least I didn't until 3 minutes ago. Miracles never cease.)  Who has time to sit down and write about what they just did?  I barely have time to do the things I just did, let alone take pictures and then post them for everyone to see.  But here I am.  Let me start with why I decided to start blogging and why I am a self proclaimed "slacker mom".

It all started the day before Simon's 4th birthday party.  He wanted a superhero party.  I sat down a good 24 hours before party time to figure out what to do.  I thought to myself, "Jenny, google is always a good place to start looking for ideas." My first hit was a blog with some cutesy title about being the hostess with the mostest. Below is the first picture, of about 50, of her amazing, very personalized, superhero party for her 3 year old.  (I wonder if anyone told her that most kids don't even remember their 3rd birthday party...)

 
After looking at her blog I thought, "Jenny, you do not have six weeks and a $1500 budget for this party so move along."  The next hit was another blog with more of the same and it made me stop and think.  This is crazy.  Do I have to prove my love to my kids by spending 45 hours planning and executing their birthday party?  Shouldn't I save up all of that time and energy for planning their weddings?  It was then that I came to the realization that I am a slacker mom.

In my own personal definition:

slack-er mom   [slak-er mom]
noun
1.   A mom who loves her children enough to know what is important and what is not.

For example:

Important things:
Saying "I love you" to my kids several times a day.
Taking out the garbage when it is stinky.
Doing the dishes before the food turns to cement.
Asking my kids' what the best part of their day was.
Getting my long run in on Saturday.
Spending quality time with the husband.
Holding those precious pudgy little baby hands as much as possible before they get big and calloused.
Writing down the funny, smart, naughty, sweet things my kids do so I don't forget.

Not so important things:
Dusting, especially the base boards.
Outfits that match, especially socks.
Treat bags at birthday parties.
Occasionally letting my child watch 3 hours of t.v. so I can get something done without interruption.
Decorating my house for every holiday.
Making my kids wear something they hate, just because I bought it on sale.
Hair bows.
Updating my blog.  I can say that now that I have started one.


Now, back to Simon's birthday party...
Mike and I got to work on Saturday morning and threw together this totally great superhero party in a matter of about 90 minutes.  We finished getting everything ready just as our mini-superheros started showing up.  And you know what, everyone had a blast.

You know what kids like?  Obstacle courses. We planned this one in five minutes. 

1. Climb up the slide and jump out of the building.

2. Crawl through the tunnel.  

(slacker moms don't always get pictures of everything)

3. Scale the biggest bean bag ever.

 4. Jump on the X's on the old mattress.

 5. Run across the aerobics step 

6. Bust through the wall

(good thing I forgot to take out the recycling and had plenty of building material)

 7. Jump into the little closet full of balloons to find and save the princess

(A big THANKS to dad and Ada for building the obstacle course and constructing and reconstructing our wall!)

Best friends: Batman and Spider-man

1 great party. 11 happy kids. 0 tired (well, maybe a little tired) and overworked parents. 

1 happy slacker mom.

There is so much more I want to say about being a slacker mom, but this post has already taken way too long and I am out of time and patience.  You see, slacker moms know when it is time to wrap things up and go watch Netflix with the Mr.

Perhaps I will post again, but if I were you,

I wouldn't hold my breath.