Chalk and Cheese Chronicles

Sea-Monkeys are Awesome First Pets

Dog.

Pool.

Stairs.

These are the Top 3 items on my kids' list of the things they want. I had the same items on my list as a child.

I never got the stairs or the pool but the dog came, although many, many years after I first started begging my parents for one.

I'm not of the "I never had that as a child, so why should you?" style of thinking. I'm more of the "I want you to have what I never had,"  parenting style. It's just that now is not the right time for a dog, a pool, or stairs. The dog? Well, maybe someday.

In the meantime, we've got a vibrant colony of Sea-Monkeys! I know, it's not a dog, but Sea-Monkeys make awesome first pets!

My last experience with Sea Monkeys was a disaster. My friend Owen had asked me, his trusted friend and co-worker, to watch over his tank full of Sea-Monkeys in my cube while he was away for a few days.

Things were going well and I was on my way to being the best pet sitter evah - that is, until I dropped them.

It happened in seconds, the rush of water, the panic, the helplessness I felt as nearly the entire population of Owen's Sea-Monkeys went plummeting into my cubicle carpeting. I swear I saw one trapped in a water bubble, giving me the evil eye and hurling curses my way as he sank into the thirsty carpet and vanished.

Oh, the trauma! Then I lied - I lied! - to Owen, shrugging my shoulders at the noticeable decline in Sea-Monkey population. I'd refilled the tiny tank with bottled water, hoping the frisky Sea-Monkey would repopulate before Owen returned.

It wasn't until much later, that I confessed. Not sure if Owen ever forgave me.

So now, here we are with our own Sea-Monkeys. They make me nervous. Where to put them, so they'll be safe? We might knock them over here, we might knock them over there. It's too cold the corner, it's too hot on the windowsill. So much worry.

They're a month old now, our Sea-Monkeys. They were a Christmas present to my son, who is 7. "Look, guys," I said to the newly hatched Sea-Monkeys, "There's your dad!" (knee-slap!) I pointed to my son who looked at me, rolled his eyes and said, "And there's your grandma!"

They were barely visible to the naked eye a month ago, but now there are about a dozen big ones, most of whom have paired up with a mate. Together, they perform water acrobatics through the water, like an x-rated underwater game of crack the whip. There are many mamas-to-be in our tank.

Not a single one of our Sea-Monkeys looks human, or even alien, as they are marketed to look. I think it's a rite of passage to feel that twinge of disappointment when kids realize their Sea-Monkeys' do not carry tridents or play checkers or wear clothes.

Just think, I've given my boys fodder to answer the oft-asked, online security question: What was your first pet? Sea-Monkeys! Isn't that awesome? Now maybe we should give our Sea-Monkeys names, because sometimes, the security question asks, "Name of first pet?"

So the dog, the pool, the stairs still remain on my kids' list of what they most desire. At least now, we've bought ourselves a little time. Sea-Monkeys are more like rock crystal growing kit than they are a dog, but I'm thinking we'll give our Sea-Monkeys canine names, like Marey and Gizmo and Bear.

 

 

 

 

My Discount Shopping FAIL

I go on a Target run at least 2-3 times a month. I buy staples such as toilet paper and cleaning supplies (mostly Method Products). In the background of all my Target runs, I'm vaguely aware of the extreme couponing craze.

The extreme couponers have great tips to share, but they mostly apply to stores I don't frequent such as Walgreens, Walmart, and conventional grocery stores and for items I don't normally buy (like mascara and Ritz crackers). I do know how to shop the sales and use coupons at Whole Foods, it's not terribly complicated there, and doesn't require a five inch binder filled with coupons but I realize it's a much more expensive place to shop. My grocery bill at Whole Foods/Trader Joes/Target has never been five dollars, like the ladies in the coupon videos. Well, unless you count the times I bought just one item.

Since I do shop regularly at Target, I watched with interest as the extreme couponers pushed their carts through Target for their You Tube viewers. They knew their stuff. They knew average prices, they knew how to stack coupons  - there were just so many ways to bring down that grand total close to zero. And if something wasn't on sale, they didn't buy it.

Twice now, I've printed out a handful of Target coupons and even used them. Look for the unadvertised five dollar gift card with purchase deals, the experts said, about Target. So one day, I saw one! It was for toothpaste and we needed toothpaste. I think it said, buy three twin packs of Crest Pro-Health at the sale price, and receive a five dollar gift card.

I glanced at the tantalizing savings sign. "I'll do it!" I beamed, grabbing the boxes from the shelf.

When I got home, I broke open a box of my new toothpaste and put the rest into the my tiny hall closet. I had my first little stockpile of sale items, yay me!

As I was enjoying the high of my first thrify savings, I noticed that I was constantly having to wipe up the gooey mess that oozed from the hard to close cap of my new toothpaste. It was all over the drawer and the bathroom counter. The toothpaste was soft like a slushy. When I later opened a second tube, the same thing happened, an ooey-gooey minty mess.

I need to Google this, I said. So I did and lo and behold, the online reviews for the entire line of Crest Pro-Health products were horrible. Customers had the same complaint as I about the toothpaste, namely, that it was terribly gooey. Some even noticed a dark discoloration on their teeth. Some of the reviews were downright scary.

Prior to all that, this is how much thought I'd ever given Crest toothpaste (when I'm not buying Tom's or Rembrandt or Colgate): A Crest is a Crest is a Crest. Well shame on me then because a Crest is a Crest except when it's Crest Pro-Health. Then it's just a mess.

Some of the review comments said they'd just tossed their unused tubes of Crest Pro-Health. So I did the same and tossed out all four remaining tubes, gift card be damned.

Clearly, my first foray into discount shopping was a failure. I knew that to follow these expert couponers would be to veer outside my usual shopping realm. I thought I'd make a small effort to trim my spending at one store only, at Target. That's what I still intend to do, but I realize I can't always let the promise of savings steer me to products I don't normally use without doing a bit of research first, especially when buying in bulk.

Even if I could get a lifetime supply of Crest Pro-Health for free, I wouldn't have it. Free isn't free when you're spending time cleaning up a toothpate mess, or when you're staring in the mirror at at your darkened teeth (mine look a bit darker).

I think I'll try to remember to clip Target coupons, but I'll never be an extreme coupon kind of shopper. I just don't have it in me. I don't like having to do the work upfront (all that clipping and organizing, etc) and I don't generally shop at the kind of stores which offer coupons. 

But Savvy.com - oh. my. God. Easy peasy savings for lazy me. Why should I spend my time clipping coupons when I can let this handy shopping app do the work for me? It's not about grocery store savings or drugstore savings, but it watches the purchases I make at my favorite stores like REI, JCrew and Williams-Sonoma and gives me savings by way of a gift card! It's a purchase protection plan. Now this I like, and if I can save money somewhere, while having fun then hey, I'm happy.

Raising Brave Irenes

There are no Brave Irene costumes for sale at the Disney store. There are no little girls dressed in a hodgepodge of old drab winter clothes carrying around large cardbox boxes and exclaiming, "I'm Brave Irene!" In an era where pretty in pink trumps a bookworm, there's little chance that young girls will spend their pretend time imagining they're Brave Irene.

That's because the story of Brave Irene focuses on what this brave little girl does, and not on how she looks. Written and illustrated by William Steig (he of Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, a childhood favorite of mine), the adventurous story of Brave Irene is one of fortitude and determination and independence.

Brave Irene is a bit of a fairytale, in that it thrusts its young main character into a precarious situation, alone. Irene Bobbin, whose mother is a dressmaker, learns that her mother is too ill to deliver the beautiful gown she's just sewn for the duchess to wear to a ball that night.

Undeterred, Irene resolves to deliver the gown to the duchess by herself while her sick mother stays home in bed. So out into the freezing winter landscape goes Irene, clutching the package containing the exquisite gown. 

The journey is not easy. Snowflakes are falling. It is cold. A fierce wind blows the dress right out of the package. Clutching the now empty box, Irene tumbles and falls, twisting her ankle. The weather worsens. Yet the strong willed Irene trudges on through the deepening snow. Finally, as night falls, a weary Irene sees the palace in the distance, its lights all aglow, the ball about to begin. Irene knows she has almost made it but how will she explain the missing gown, made wayward by the angry wind? But she has not time to think before she falls off a little cliff and gets stuck once more in the snow.

The journey seems like a miserable failure, a tale gone horribly wrong but then plucky Irene manages to free herself from the snowbank! Using the box as a sled, she slides down the snow covered hill, the wind chasing her, and arrives at the palace doorstep, without the gown, but with herself intact. Irene frets about how she will explain the missing gown to the duchess. Such bad news to break... and then, there pinned to a nearby tree by the wind, Irene spies the missing ball gown.

She is warmly welcomed by an appreciative and incredulous duchess and her cheering servants. Irene tells her tale and then explains that she must get back to her sick mother at once. No, says the duchess, stay here, stay warm and have a nice supper and we will bring you back by sleigh the next morning.

The duchess and her guests go on to have a fabulous ball, with Irene invited to join them as a special guest. The folowing morning, they drive Irene back home by horse drawn sleigh and plop her into the waiting arms of her very worried mother. 

Along with gifts of candy and cake, is a note from the duchess, saying that Irene is a brave and loving person.

So go read Brave Irene to your children. I can tell you that through the entire story, I did not really focus on what it was Irene was wearing (oh, a scarf, a coat, tights, boots, a skirt in the drab, practical style of a frontier girl, say) but I can tell you all the things that Irene did.

You can discuss the story of Brave Irene with your children. Point out the many times it seemed as if Irene might have just given up but didn't. Point out some of the words your young kids might not know, amusing words such as "yodeled" and what the author meant when he wrote, "...the wind yodeled." There are rich vocabularly words in Brave Irene - pick them out and have fun with it. Discuss how Irene might have felt being alone in the snow. Explain to your children what it means to set a goal. What were Irene's goals? You can even dig further and explore class differences (Irene and her dressmaker mom versus the duchess and the upper class) in history.

Irene Bobbin is more of a heroine to me than any Disney princess (ok, well, I do like Belle and her love of books). Those princesses may have their pink gowns, but Irene wears bravery like royalty.

Let's celebrate more of what our children do, and not what they wear or how they look.

 ------

I was given the CD/book set Brave Irene to review. I thought I might use this as an opportunity to promote a book with a valuable message particularly to girls in this era of gender stereotyping. As we'd already had the book in our library, and we'd once rented the audio CD, this new CD/book set will be donated to our school library. The audio CD is performed by the inimitable Meryl Streep, whose interpretation of this book will have your children absolutely mesmerized.

 

 

I Make Trouble for the School Office Lady

Somebody is always getting their hands slapped at school. It's not either of my kids, as you might expect.

It's me.

I don't do it on purpose, but I always get caught doing something I shouldn't. 

The first time it happened, I think I had my hand reaching over the counter, trying to fetch a pen. I hadn't realized the flower pot on the counter was actually full of pens whose ends were attached to fake flowers.

I thought they flowers.

The second time it happened, I had walked my sons, my visiting niece and my tiny visiting fur nephew over, just to ask a question. We were all smiles, mouths full of summer popsicles, a tiny leashed dog at our side.

He can't be here, she said, sternly, eyeing our dog. He is not allowed here.

It had been a short trespass, from the sidewalk to this place, which, on weekends and after hours is indeed the stomping grounds to many a neighborhood dog.

I thought it would be ok. Actually, I hadn't even thought about it.

Another time and another time still, I'd forgotten to get an excuse note, from the dentist, from the pediatrician and we had inadvertently tried to slip back in without official papers. This is a pattern I keep repeating.

The one time I had to pee while there, I'd chosen the wrong restroom. There are two from which to choose, one for kids and one for adults. I had a 50-50 chance and I chose wrong. Of course I did. Embarrassing.

I get the sign in/sign out binder confused with the other binder that's always there. It is a terrifying choice to have to make.

My biggest blunder occurred in the cafeteria. Someone had asked me to warm up a dish for a party we were having. So I headed to the tiny, empty cafeteria kitchen and placed the dish in the microwave. Just as I did, footsteps approached and a voice pleaded, "No, no, no, not there, please don't use that one." I was to use the microwave in the staff room, the voice instructed, after I'd stared back blankly, and asked the proper place to go. Yes, the staff room. I should have known.

These are just a few of the blunders I've committed. I know the list will grow through the years. It's a learn-as-I-go process. I'm sure when my kids are in, say, 5th grade and I arrive to help out at the school fundraising event, I'll do something wrong like move boxes to the wrong location or wear my badge on the wrong side.

I'm like that, you see, the mom who is the bane of the school office lady. I swear I don't try to do everything wrong, it just happens.

Still, I go back for more, volunteering in class and all that, mindful that my every step could lead to another reprimand.

I exasperate the schoool office lady, but I assure you, it's not on purpose!

 

 

 

The Second Grade Book Exchange

Sometimes, I do not set the best parenting example. My son received a book during his second grade classroom's holiday book exchange. It was a board book. A search and find board book, the type my kids might have had when they were toddlers.

What he received:

The only rule for the gift exchange was that books had to be under 5 dollars. We headed over to Hicklebees and bought paperbacks for $4.99. My sons picked a book from the "Franny K. Stein" series which they thought would work for both boys and girls.

I was impressed. Here was a story about a GIRL with an independent streak who makes potions and likes bugs!

My boys picked out this book, my boys.

What we gave:

Book exchanges are challenging because the book's recipient is a mystery. What they like to read, what they've already read and what they're capable of reading is an unknown.

So I thought this book would be perfect, it shows a girl doing something. And she's not playing with dolls or putting on makeup either.

We put a lot of thought into purchasing this book, but then again, we are book people. We love to read.

When my son came home with the bargain bin (it had the Big Lots clearance sticker on it) Search and Find: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall book, I just couldn't help but be disappointed. There are plenty of quality books out there for less than five dollars.

My other son came home with a Magic Treehouse book which we already had but which is a safe bet for this age group.

When I saw the Search and Find board book, I was disappointed. I snapped, "Give it to someone else in your class." I wanted people to know that he'd gotten a crappy gift.  I wanted to shout to the other mom, "Hello! There are 8 and even 9-year-olds, not toddlers!" Heck, even the classic Goodnight Moon with its beautiful words and illustrations would have been a better choice.

My son, on the other hand, managed to keep his disappointment at bay. He didn't let it show in class, which is hard to do when you're seven. He told me, "Mom, I can't bring the book back, that would embarrass the girl who gave it to me."

Well, yeah. That's the point.

I was modeling some very bad parenting behavior and my son was having none of it. He got a crappy book and that was that. He'd moved on.

I won't even re-gift the book, it's so bad.

I might not be proud of my behavior but I am proud of my son. Even when I gave him license to complain about the book, he didn't.

We talked about gifts and appreciation yada yada but when Christmas came, the boy twice was unable to mask his disappointment (shoes! a finger printing kit to share with my brother!) so clearly, there's still work to be done.

Still, if you're thinking of giving a search and find board book to a typically developing second grader, don't do it. Opt for a Magic Treehouse book instead.

Giveaway for little explorers: The Bay Area Discovery Museum (Marin)

12/24: Winner! Amy M - thanks all for entering. Happy holidays and happy museum going!

**
It's giveaway time!

I have FIVE passes to the Bay Area Discovery Museum!

 

Win This: Leave a comment telling me your favorite Bay Area children's museum(s). One entry per person. I'll draw a name via the usual random.org on December 24, 2011 and announce the winner at the top of this post.

The Scoop: Tickets are valid through 6/30/12 and can be used for children or adults. Tickets normally cost $11 each, so a family of 5 will save $55.

Sponsor: Thank you to Scholar Share for sponsoring this giveaway.

ScholarShare is California’s 529 College Savings Program. The recently revamped program features a minimum initial contribution of only $25 per portfolio to open an account and fees that have been reduced by approximately 30 percent, making ScholarShare one of the lowest priced 529 plans in the country. To sign up for an account or for more information about the plan, visit www.ScholarShare.com<

 

My top 10 Reasons to Visit the Bay Area Discovery Museum

1. The view. With a backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge, which will you watch, your kids or the scenery?

2. The sticks. Your kids will find them. Plus, sticks are Geek Dad approved.

3. The boats. There are two fishing boats to play in, one inside and one outside, and there is a sunken treasure ship. My favorite thing to do is to rock the inside fishing boat to make kids feel like they're sailing on a choppy sea. I call it the Feed the Fish activity.

4. The indoor/outdoor setting. Marin whether is a microclimate of sun and fog. We dash in/out of the buildings accordingly.

5.  The native plants. Look around, the plants have all gone native and it is beautiful.

6. The tree stumps. Climb to the top of the hill via a path of tree stumps. Go through a giant tree stump. Count the rings. Marvel, then go climb some actual trees. Yes, you can do that.

7.  Waterplay. Most kids have dunked their hands into a waterplay area, but this time, instead of tiny balls, they get to play with plastic fish and crabs!

8. The digging. Grab a shovel and dig for sunken treasure. Or dig through a construction site.

9. The gift shop. This is such a beautifully curated gift shop for kids. I'm all over the Barefoot Books.

10. The stress level. I don't know if it's slight the ocean mist or the soothing seaside color palette, but I never felt the stress I felt at other kid places. I didn't even think about germs when we were outside. It's just such a beautiful place. We were one on one with kids when until age 3, and then, I felt comfortable enough here to take my two kids on my own.

This photo of my son at the Bay Area Discovery Museum says it all to me. I call this photo "childhood."

 

Elf on the Shelf in Hindsight

We bought our Elf on the Shelf in 2008. I was smitten by his vintage style. His felt elf suit seemed so very Etsy. His book had old-school illustrations, as if I'd pulled it from my childhood bookshelf.

It's inspiring that mother daughter duo Carol Aebersold and Chanda Bell self-published the book after being rejected by publisher after publisher.

Elf on the Shelf first appeared in stores in 2005. We bought ours in 2008, when my boys were four and they were instant believers.

Oh, bah humbug.

Oops, did that just come out of my mouth?

Fast forward three years. My son, who is now seven, crept into my room at 6am and whispered loudly, "The elf didn't move. That's because the parents move him and YOU forgot to move him."

Whether I fessed up in my grogginess or whether I wove another tale like, "The elf didn't move because he had nothing to report," I don't remember.

My kids are starting to gather data points about the non-existence of Elf on the Shelf. The doubting began two year's ago when they were 5, in fact. I think there are too many holes in the stories I've woven, too many inconsistencies told, too many times my kids have seen Elf on the Shelf FOR SALE at the store.

We raise our kids to be thinkers, to question what doesn't make sense. We tell them not to lie. We instill in them a sense of logic. And then like a religious theory, we hope they'll believe that the elf is real without any concrete proof. I invited Elf on the Shelf into our home because I wanted my children to have a memorable childhood. (My family celebrates Christmas purely as a securlar holiday so that is my mindset here.)

In hindsight, the Santa lie is easier to perpetuate. It's a more clear-cut lie that requires less maintenance. Kids who choose nice over naughty will be rewarded with a present from Santa on Christmas day.

With Elf on the Shelf, parents must invent little white lies almost daily. You move the elf nightly, and then you talk about him, inventing things as you go. Forget to move him, and you really have explaining to do.

The oldest Elf on the Shelf kids are probably between the ages of 7 and 10 now. Some of these older kids really, truly still believe. Others say they believe, but they know the truth; they're just not fessing up.

My boys are very much like the 9-year-old boy from the Elf on the Shelf: An Elf's Story CBS television special which aired this past week (we watched in online after it aired). That boy was on the non-believer side at first, sort of rolling his eyes and calling the Elf names like, "stinky ..." which made my kids laugh and then magic happened and the boy became a believer. I know there are 9-year-olds who believe in all this magic, but I also know that my boys could be laughed at by the many non-believers in their age group and beyond.

By now, nearly every family I know who celebrates Christmas has an Elf on the Shelf and they are all enamored with this new tradition. But it dawned on me that none of these families has yet had to deal with the big question of whether the elf is real. We know the "Is Santa real?" question is coming, but it seems that kids will come to question the existence of Elf on the Shelf far sooner that they would Santa.

Who will the Elf on the Shelf bring down with him? Santa, the Easter Bunny and - gasp - the Tooth Fairy?

So go out and get an Elf on the Shelf. If you already have one, enjoy the tradition. But just know it could all end in one big let down. I'm just sayin'.

Once the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, I plan to still bring out our Elf on the Shelf as a Christmas tradition. I'll hide him and let the kids find him. It will still be a fun tradition. My boys act out the world of Harry Potter in their make-believe life. They know it's a fictional story. So in a way, it's a bit absurd to continue convicing my boys that Elf on the Shelf is real.

How will you let your kids know the truth? Did your kids transfer doubts about Elf on the Shelf over to Santa? Or did you tell your kids the truth from the get-go? Did your family have an elf that predates Elf on the Shelf?

It'll be interesting to see how families will handle the day when Elf on the Shelf loses his magic. I'm sure the moment of truth will fill our Facebook streams in a couple of years.

Finding out that Santa is not real is for some a rite of passage. But I think I just wasn't prepared to have to maintain the myth of Elf on the Shelf as well.

Related posts:

We Touched Elf on the Shelf

Elf on the Shelf (from the Elf's perspective)

 

A Slight Shift into Privacy Mode

Alas, it has happened. I embarrass my kids. A kiss. An errant comment. I am on shaky ground. Now that my sons are well into their grade school years, they are so much more self-aware.

One of my sons told me he doesn't like the clothes I buy him. You know, like the bright, friendly graphic tees of monsters from Mini Boden. And like the preppy collared shirts from Crew Cuts. He wants to look a little more laid back, like him, he told me, pointing toward a kid at school who was rockin the Tony Hawk look.

So we hit the mall, something my boys never willingly do. We bought tees that make my boys look ever so slightly more cool. As if they dressed themselves, which they do. The outgrown monster tee from Mini Boden looks out of place in a drawer full of "skate" clothing. Oh and the black, there's so much black in there! Preschool clothes = adorable. Big boys clothes = cool.

Like the clothes that my boys wear, I feel a shift. If a kiss at school drop-off feels a wee bit embarrassing to them now, how will they feel about the things I might write about them here on this blog, or worse, on Facebook, where I feel more "free" in a world populated by my "friends"?

I've known for a long time that their stories aren't really mine to tell.

So as my boys have grown, I've pulled back on sharing things that might embarrass my kids later.

I remember in a meeting with the folks at AVG, that what I say online about my kids can be a bigger threat to their privacy than other perceived online threats. What I write now might turn up as fodder for online bullying a decade from now, when my boys reach high school.

I love filling this space with blog posts, so I'm not stopping. I have plenty to say. I've just not been writing about the really embarrassing or ugly stuff in our lives. Oh, it's happening - I just can't document it for posterity.

Sometimes I miss the days when the mom bloggers I followed blogged very personal stories about parenting. In the days before the brands came calling. In the days before their kids left diapers.

On Facebook, moms are still writing about their kids. I write about my kids on Facebook, too, sometimes. But with the new Facebook timeline coming soon to the masses, I don't know if I want it all out there for my future grandchildren to see. We all know there will be many iterations of that timeline and every tweak will likely chip away at the wall of privacy. So I'm more mindful of what I post there - and everywhere. I pretend my kids are reading what I write. I wonder if my kids will look at it all one day - the tweets, the Facebook status updates, my lousy Klout score (I bet) etc. and wonder if I was paying any attention to them, aside from gleaning material for posts.

In the past, we might have read our grandmother's faded diary or letters. We might have had a fuzzy idea of how these ladies really were, but imagine if they had been on Facebook back then. I kind of like that my main memory of my paternal grandma is through the food she created in her tiny kitchen rather than of any unsavory thoughts she might have had.

This generation of children and beyond will be both blessed and burdened by the online voices of their parents and the online voices of themselves. Generation TMI will certainly go on to create their own online presence and so it will continue for generations to come.

And so to my newly self-conscious children, one last loud, wet public SMOOCH and I'll take the rest of our PDAs off-line. Love, Mom.

 

 

 

 

 

It's a Birthday Party for Twins! How Many Gifts Should You Bring?

So you and/or your children have been invited to a birthday party for twins, how many presents should you bring?

The question of gift etiquette for twins is a popular one! I see the question pop up on twins/multiples forums all the time, most recently on Twins with Tots.

What should you do? Give one gift from the family? One gift to each birthday child? One gift EACH to each birthday child? One gift to only the twin your child knows? Bestow the birthday twins with 10 puppies, a swimming pool and a house with stairs? (That's what my twins want.)

Let me save you the trouble of over-thinking this. Aside from the line about the puppies, the answer is, anything goes.

Because the dynamics vary so vastly, how could there ever be a steadfast rule on birthday gift giving to twins? Sometimes the twins have one birthday party, but separate guest lists. Sometimes, especially with older boy/girl twins, they'll have separate birthday parties, with some guests invited to both events. What about when twins are invited to a twins birthday party? What then? What if boy/boy twins are invited to a boy/girl twin party and they only know the boy? What if the kids don't really know each other that well? How do you make it fair? How do you make it personal?

Ouch, my brain hurts.

See how easy it is to over-think this?

We had 16 guests come to my twin boys' joint birthday party. So that would mean 32 Lego sets for each of my boys, right? Of course not. Some kids brought a joint gift. Some brought two gifts. One brought a gift for only one of my twins, because he only knows one of my twins.

It was all over the board. Mom and dad made the most longed-for gifts happen, so any additional gift was just icing on the cake. And really what my boys wanted most of all was a chance to play with their friends. Most of the toys my boys received have more or less become "pubic" property anyway; they both play with them.

Remember, a gift is just that, a gift. In the realm of first world problems, it's all good. One present, two presents, whatever. Do what feels right for you and your children. Do what feels right for your budget.

The lesson here? So long as you're not gifting just one twin with 10 puppies, a swimming pool and a house with stairs, give what you like.

I'll leave you with this video, CARMICHAEL and Shane (2006). It's heavy with sarcasm and one of my favorites.

16 Ridiculously Active Zombies

I went insane the other day and invited 16 boys over to my house for a Halloween party. We went all Plants versus Zombies, building the theme around a fabulous cake, designed by the talented Pam Smith, a mom at our former preschool.

Dress as a zombie, or dress as you like, I told each boy. I figured if most of the boys came as zombies, they'd be rendered a little slow, based on their obvious disfigurements and missing limbs.

Then my crazy mind went to an even crazier place and decided to put on a little backyard Halloween carnival. We'd hand our young guests 25 tickets (from a roll of raffle tickets) upon arrival which they could use to play games. A win at any game, entititled the guest to a prize ticket (tiny playing cards).

Then I went crazier still at the landfill site, Oriental Trading Company. I bought glow-in-the-dark rats, bats, eyeballs, skeletons and other creepy crawlers. I bought kites and foam gliders and aliens embalmed in slime, you know, for the BIG sought after prizes, the kind you see at Chuck E. Cheese that cost 250 tickets.

This is what you do when you have school age boys. You host a gross out fest. I thought briefly of having the boys compete in an arm fart contest, but then I didn't want to end up with 16 winners. Plus, arm farts aren't funny except when you're, say, 6. Or when you're a 40-year-old dad.

I thought I was ready. I'd made a fruit salad and veggie plate as healthy offerings. The brain mold jello turned out deliciously creepy. My mom donated finger shaped cookies, finger jello with layers of Halloween colors and orange slices tricked out with jello. I'd even baked vanilla bean cupakes from scratch, complete with vanila bean paste stripped right from the bean. I stuffed popcorn into hand shaped treat bags well into the night.

The Halloween themed games were all set up. We had a bean bag toss, a ball toss, a croquet game, a Nerf gun target game, a fish tank marble drop, a skeleton clothespin drop, a penny toss and a touch-and-feel mummy box, complete with semi-scary music emanating from within the box.

As this was a drop off birthday party, I'd set up a check-in table at the front gate, with prize bags, a marker for their names, name tags and a sign in sheet to gather names and phone numbers.

I was good to go!

But you can't host a party if you don't have help. Turns out, some of the moms who'd I planned to have helping were running late, very late. And my parents couldn't make it.

So for what seemed like forever and a day, there was just me, my husband (dressed in an easy to make but effective PvZ Cone Zombie costume), my good friend Nora and a sweet 10-year-old neighbor girl who is good with kids.

We worked our butts off.

Things didn't go as I'd planned. I had no one to check in kids at the front gate. I had no one to help serve food from the kitchen; in fact, much of it didn't get served at all. I had no one to man the prize table; it quickly became a "grab on your honor" table - try that with 16 little boys and see how well that works! I had no one to float around and make sure everything and everyone was engaged.

It was mayhem for a while. Well, at least from my perspective because my mind was everywhere and nowhere. The kids didn't notice a thing, they were too busy having fun. The carnival was a hit. The prizes were a hit! I was hosting one rockin' backyard party!

After what seemed like an eternity, my friend and I looked at our watches. We were ready to call it a day.

But only an hour had passed. One measley hour.

Unbelievable.

So we played the mummy game. We divided up the kids into two teams and gave them rolls of toilet paper to wrap one boy from each team like a mummy. They loved this game. When it was over, it looked as if the backyard had been TP'd by teenage girls (clean up was a breeze because we made it a contest).

The winning team received toy toilets. Not just any toy toilets, mind you, but colorful palm-sized loos with heft, all filled with slime.

If you ever host a party for a school age boy, slime toilets are the hot ticket. Make a note of that.

When there was a lull, my friend's husband Jeff saved the day and initiated a zombie walk contest. All the boys were game, with some walking like zombies and some hiding behind bushes. In the end, we had 16 ridiculously active zombies hobbling about the backyard.

Slow down, I wanted to yell, you're zombies!

So in the end, I think the party was a success. All the boys seemed to be having so much fun! They didn't know about my behind-the-scenes stress, or that the fruit salad didn't get served. They loved that they were able to grab more than their deserved winnings from the prize table. I would have stuffed their goodie bags with the leftovers anyway.

Would I do it again? Yes. I love planning parties. But I would make sure I didn't just have ghosts in the kitchen, but real help, real live flesh and blood help.