Happy Mutha's Day

I spent my Mother's Day at K's nephew's birthday party. This was after I'd opened my presents though: a box of chocolates from Big D (He offered to eat the raspberry cream ones for me because he knows I hate raspberry. Selfless, that kid.); a cake from Smella (She wanted to buy me party hats, but the husband steered her a little.); a CD from the husband (Spoon. The album title cracks me up.); and slobbery kisses and probably a poopy diaper from Boobers (What? He's only 11 ¾ months old.).

My mom? I baked her a cherry pie. And the sister and I went in on a gift card together so the mom could buy lots and lots of cookbooks. The mom adores pies and cookbooks.

It rained and was cold all day Mother's Day, but we had fun. I mean, who doesn't love a good face-slamming cake fight amongst adults during a seven-year-old's birthday party? And during musical chairs when a dad yells out to his five-year-old who can't find an empty chair, "You're out, ya loser!"? I mean, that's what makes parties for me.

K's family? A little whacked.

I got lots of good ideas to use for Boober's party coming up this Sunday. Like after you've grilled your hotdogs, make sure you put them on the styrofoam tray that the raw hamburger meat came in. Yum-O! Birthday cake, ice cream, and a touch of E. coli!

I'm still sorry I forgot the camera.