Rocco’s 7th Bday

So Rocco, the little stinker, went and turned 7 on me.  He did it in his sleep, like it was no big deal—just woke up and blamo, he was seven.

Kevin disallowed me to have an at-home birthday—something about our marriage not strong enough to survive another one—so I booked Rocco’s seventh birthday at a trampoline place.  The good part is that the planning was very miniscule compared to an at-home party.  The bad part is that for each of my kids’ birthdays I get a certain amount of party planning energy, and this time the energy had nowhere to go so I was a crazy lady anyway for the month leading up to Rocco’s birthday. 

But maybe a shade less crazy as I usually get.

The other bad part of having it at a trampoline warehousey type place: pictures.  I mean, you try your best but…

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Anyone who’s been on Pinterest for more than 5 minutes knows this is totally unacceptable—the too-small background, the fluorescent lighting, the lack of giant glass jars full of color-coordinated candy.

That’s not the worst of the pictures, though.  There’s also this…

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this…

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and this.

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Sigh.  I’m learning the hard way that a party shouldn’t be judged by its photos, because despite the crappy quality of these pictures, the kids had an incredibly non-crappy time.  You’ll just have to take my word for it.

Rocco had picked out this cake to make from the Internet.

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Simple and beautiful.  We can manage that!  I decided to let Rocco do all the decorating, even though it felt like giving my favorite doll over to the kid in the sandbox who is hitting things with a shovel with one hand while cramming sand into his mouth with the other.  But turns out I had nothing to fear.  Check out the skill!

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Doh!  Spoke too soon.

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I did stop Rocco when he started unwrapping a whole Snickers bar to stick on there.  I told him we didn’t want it to look like someone had squatted down and laid a fresh one on the cake.

At the party, there was bouncing (see above pictures.)

There was pegging.

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There were party blowers.

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There were many kids lost forever in here.

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I’ll post some pretty pictures of the party tomorrow, followed by a sappy post about my baby growing up sometime after that.  Until then, enjoy this picture of a seven-year-old who, at least when he’s blowing out candles on his cake, can still bring back those kiss-me-squeeze-me squish-me big baby cheeks.

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WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Mango salsa and chips
Sticky-finger ribs
Salmon in orange tamarind sauce
Green and yellow beans with dill
Potato and corn salad
Fruit
Blackberry peach tart with oatmeal streusel

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