Angel Wheeler

A spirit of self-discipline

Last night I attended a womens’ Bible study. My emotions were all over the place. I wasn’t sure if I should go since I don’t attend the same church as the ladies in the Bible study, or ANY church currently, for that matter. Also, it wasn’t like I was actually invited. They asked Ash to babysit for the women who had young children, and that’s how I got the invitation. So it felt kind of like a second hand invitation, you know. An afterthought.

I was torn. But I know that if I’m going to build relationship with people in this new town, I need to leave my house. I need to put myself out there. I need to be bold and confident. Plus, I do love a good Bible study as much as the next gal, so I went. I am so glad that I did. The study was on fear and worry. I don’t consider myself a fearful person or a worry wort. So naturally I didn’t think I would gain much from it. However I did. I gained more than I could have imagined. It was so weird because being the introverted person that I am, especially around people I don’t know, I usually clam up, smile sweetly, answer if spoken to and retreat as fast as possible. Not last night. It was like I had diarrhea of the mouth. I answered every question, at the same time constantly worrying that I was dominating the conversation and not making any sense at all. I added to other’s comments, and then later worried that I offended them, that I didn’t express myself good enough and they took it the wrong way. I tell you, I’m one of those people who can’t even talk half the time, and if I do, then afterwards I play the conversation over and over and realize how utterly stupid I must have sounded. Making first impressions is so hard. For me.

I’ve learned since the Bible study, that yes, I am a worry wort. Not in the aspect that I worry the house will catch on fire or the world will end, but I worry what people think of me. I worry if I’m good enough for them, if I’m likable, if I’ll measure up as friend-worthy. I find myself worrying about this a lot more now that I’m in a new place, trying to make new connections. In my hometown where I lived all my life, those relationships and connections were well established before I had to worry about it. I mean, I made it out of junior high and then high school. I’m nearly 40 years old, so figuring out who I am and worrying if people will like the person that I am, should be long gone and over with. Well, it’s not.

As we sat in a semi-circle in a lady’s home, our Bibles opened on our laps, sharing our deepest fears and worry and getting all down and personal, I began to feel so refreshed and renewed. It has been a very long time since I participated in a small group and I left there feeling filled up to the measure with God and fellowship. It was a good feeling. I just love how GOD knows exactly what we need and meets that need in ways we don’t expect.

The leader touched on many scriptures, but the one that spoke to me in so many ways was 2 Timothy 1:7.

I heard Beth Moore teach on this scripture before and so I know a different version. The version I’ve always recited is from the KJV that reads: For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. (emphasis mine)

But the scripture read aloud at the Bible study was a different version than I know. The NIV reads: ⁷For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. (emphasis mine)

EUREKA!!

Self-discipline is something I struggle with on a daily basis. I can get lazy. I can procrastinate. There are so many things I want to accomplish and yet I lack the self-discipline. I beat myself up each night for not doing what I need to because of the self-discipline it requires. After hearing this version of the verse, it was an epiphany. GOD gives me self-discipline. It is from Him. Which means I can accomplish all that I desire with self-discipline. If He gives self-discipline, then it makes sense to me that the lazy, procrastinating spirit is from Satan. Of course it is. He doesn’t want me to succeed, he wants to steal my joy. He came in fact, to steal, kill and destroy. Destroy my dreams, destroy my hope, destroy my family, my health, and ultimately my life. Satan wants me to live in defeat and to go to bed every night disappointed in myself.

On a second note, that scripture also speaks to my timidity around new people and new situations. My lack of self confidence, my worry of first impressions and if people will like me. Timidity does not come from God. I know who I am in Him and I need to hold my head up and walk proudly knowing that if He is for me, who can be against me, right?

I’m refreshed by this. Which is exactly what the Word of God will do, refresh. I am uplifted. I am hopeful. I am smiling. My joy is abundant.

Now when I’m faced with my lazy, procrastinating spirit, or my weaknesses want to override my strengths, or I want to give in and not work toward goals I have set for myself, then I recite 2 Timothy 1:7.

God has given me self-discipline.

Easter Sunday—-2K14

Happy Easter to all!

This day finds me a bit happy, a tad sad, with a little hope thrown in. I’ve neglected my blog as of late simply because my life is boring, quite frankly. I do all the things that everyone else does. I have a wonderful bundle of two year old joy that keeps me entertained. I try to exercise. I try to read. I attempt to write. I avoid cooking and cleaning as much as possible. I have a stack of laundry that begs for my attention. It’s really the same, ol’, same ol’ day after day. I feel that I don’t have anything profound to say anymore.

I just feel quiet.

But today is Easter and so in an attempt to preserve some family memories, I’ll blog.

I’m happy today because I’m so truly blessed with every good thing that really matters in this world: family, friends, faith, and health.

I’m a tad sad because we haven’t been to church for the past two Easters. We have yet to find a good church home and that makes me sad. Recently, when we went back to our hometown we visited our church and it was so wonderful, so refreshing. I wish my dear old Briarwood would pack up and move here, then I would have the perfect world. Sure, I understand that I don’t need a church to worship, I can worship right in my own front yard, but I miss the fellowship and the sharing with a body of believers.

But of course, I keep my hope and I believe good things are always heading my way. A wonderful church, included.

For Easter Sunday, we did the “thing”. We colored eggs and had an egg hunt.

We attempted to take a family picture with a self timer on our camera. I regret to inform you that we did not get a good one. Big surprise!

The house is now scattered with candy wrappings and EK is green up to her elbows.

She fell asleep after her sugar crash reading Beauty and the Beast and I am soon to join her for a little siesta. All in all, I’d say we had some great Easter success.

Most importantly….

He lives, he lives, Christ Jesus lives today.

You ask me how I know he lives? He lives within my heart.

I sang that to EK today, and she got a kick out of it, especially when I tried to hit the high notes.

I hope you too had a blessed Easter, spent with your loved ones celebrating the true meaning of the day.

God Bless you and yours.

The Joy of Childhood

She just turned 26 months old. I know I’m not supposed to do that anymore, you know, count her months. But I’m just going to make my own rules up as I go. Time is too precious to just cast it aside and not see every moment for the treasure that it is.

Guess what we did today?

We built a snowman. Not a real snowman of course. It’s actually a blustery, warm spring day, not a flake in sight, but it was her first day to watch the movie Frozen. Afterwards, she asked if I wanted to build a snowman with her. “Come on,” she said patting her thigh as if calling a dog, so of course I did.

She is such a joy. So smart. She pretends and plays make-believe all day long. One minute she’s Cinderella, forcibly kicking off her plastic dress up shoe and saying she better get in her carriage while running to sit in her pink Barbie Jeep, and the next minute she is pouring tea for me and adding spoonfuls of sugar. She goes on Bear Hunts and squelch-squearches through the mud and peels pinecones apart declaring they are surprise eggs and wonders what’s inside.

We built our snowman today with a carrot nose made from a blue piece of wire found in the yard and two eyes and arms she stuck in the ground.

Her shoes were on the wrong feet, chocolate smudged her lips.

Her dog-ears had long since lost their snugness and flopped haphazardly.

She searched for crickets and got scared by something and ran to my side.

I lay in the grass just watching her and feeling filled to the measure with happiness and joy that she is mine.

Our days are filled with magical make-believe, chocolate kisses and snowmen fashioned from dirt.

It’s been a very long time since my own childhood, but I can vividly remember the games I played with my own imagination. How magical my world of pretend was.

Watching EK grow and play in this same make-believe way takes me to a place I used to know. It reawakens a child I used to be. I remember care-free days where nothing really mattered.

And now all that truly matters is that this little dog-eared 2-year-old (ahem……26 month old) who brings me such joy.

Lilacs

There is a row of bare bushes that line the side of our property. They sit in a strong straight row bumping their branches into one another, housing nests of birds, and toying with my emotions.

I think, hope, wish, and pray that they are lilac bushes. As we begin our second spring here in this beautiful place, maybe my wish will come true.

Last spring I anticipated their blooms. I imagined the smell of the hundreds of lilacs merging together. My intent was to snip the fresh bouquets and place them everywhere in the house: the kitchen windowsill, the fireplace mantle, the bedside table.

I have such a fondness to lilacs that transports me to my grandmothers house, doesn’t everything of fondness remind us of our grannies?

My plans, like so many others, didn’t come to fruition when a late freeze killed the tiny, purple clustered blooms.

So here we are on the cusp of another possible lilac explosion and I’m remaining optimistic. I awoke this morning to a snowy frost hanging thick on all the trees including these massive 10 feet tall bushes. I immediately checked the temp and saw it dropped to 28 degrees. It didn’t stay cold long into the day and in fact as I sit outside soaking some rays and blogging, I just may have a slightly red chest; the sun is so warm.

I’m hoping for two things: 1) last nights cold wasn’t harsh enough to kill them 2)there won’t be another freeze this season. Okay 3 things: 3) they truly are lilac bushes.

I’m afraid my disappointment will be too great otherwise.

If you are one who possesses a green thumb and recognize these plants, maybe you can let me know.

I’m hoping for a house filled with vases upon vases of purple!

Thirty-nine

My late grandmother, who lived to the ripe old age of 98 and died peacefully in her own home, who was tougher than anyone I’ll ever meet, who my dad actually said he was scared of when he first started dating my mom, who drove too fast and loved others too deep, who always offered to feed you and do your laundry when you visited, that same grandmother had a sign hanging in her kitchen that read, GETTING OLD AIN’T FOR SISSIES.

I don’t know where she got it. It wasn’t even a sign really, but a photocopied, yellowed, piece of paper with the edges curling up that someone had printed out for her. It was cute to see it thumbtacked to her wall along with and next to scriptures and framed cross-stitch patterns.

I’ve been thinking of her a lot and her particular sign since Monday when I turned 39 years old. The date rolled over on the calendar and I met it willingly. I’m not one to fuss over getting older. I’m not going to stay 29 forever or even 39 forever. I’m going to shout out my age to anyone who wants to know. There are so many who don’t get the privilege to grow older, who die young, that we should celebrate every year we’re given. Personally, I had been looking forward to my birthday because it was one year closer to my forties and my forties will be fabulous. I am actually ready to embrace my forties.

However, as my birthday progressed I began to feel poorly. EK had been fighting a fever for the past couple of days prior and then Ashlynn was struck down with some sort of vile illness of the kind which had her writhing and moaning. I almost thought I should skip the doctor and the mortuary and just drop her off at the cemetery to save some money. I spent my day running a small infirmary, wiping snot and making potato soup and the likes. By the time I crawled into bed, I was wiped out and hit hard with something myself. Honestly, I need a do-over on my birthday.

DO-OVER!!!

DO-OVER!!!!

Tuesday I was worse. But I am on occasion an optimist and I hoped that Wednesday would find me whole again. I arose and said my healthy affirmations. I am happy, healthy, and alive. Every cell in my body is filled with health. But as you can see, here it is Friday and I’m still down with the funk. Although no one has yet to bring ME a kleenex or a bowl of soup. What is up with that? There’s a hammering in my ears so strong now that I don’t even know if anything I’m typing is making sense.

In order to whip what I believe is a viral infection that a doctor can do nothing for, speed it along, and try to find some relief at the same time, the last few days I have tried a variety of homeopathic, home remedies here at home, and a few over the counter ones, including but not limited to herbal teas, gargling salt water, pain relievers, cold relievers, allergy relievers, humidifiers, Vicks Vapor rub, honey, ginger, cinnamon, garlic!!!!

GARLIC! I put an entire clove of garlic (cut in two—-a piece in each cheek) and sucked on it like a lozenge for like an hour. And I’m here to tell you, sucking on garlic for nearly an hour AIN’T FOR SISSIES! (Neither is living with someone who sucked on a garlic clove for an hour, my family would like to add).

The remedy list continues: oil pulling, yoga, lymphatic massage, thymus thumping (think of a gorilla beating his chest), vitamins, sitting in the sun, exercise to sweat it out, hot showers with steam, lozenges, alka seltzer, calling on my facebook prayer warriors to pray and my momma too, and the biggest no-no in the world: leftover antibiotics belonging to someone else (because why the heck not at this point).

After all that, I’m still alive! Not sure if I want to be at this point but nevertheless I am alive.

And still sick.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that the fates, the gods, the universe—-whatever—-is playing a really mean, cruel joke on this 39 year old, allowing me a taste of growing older. Chiding me for believing my forties will be fabulous and thinking the best is yet to come. No, no, no, I don’t believe that at all. I have come to the conclusion that incidentally a really tough virus got in my body at precisely the same time I had a birthday making me feel like it’s all downhill from here. But it’s not.

I will overcome. I am an overcomer. I am ready to be done with this sickness, have a DO-OVER birthday and have the greatest year of my life.

Starting tomorrow, I hope.

The Chicken Chronicles: An Update and Addendum

The month of March is upon us and with that comes an anniversary. Or a birthday, rather. My chickens turn three years old. Happy, happy birthday girls!

It’s a landmark, a milestone, a big deal to have three-year old chickens. At least I thought it was until I googled the life expectancy of a chicken and found it to be 8-10 years for backyard hens and some have lived up to 20!!! What???? 20 years. I’ll be drawing medicare. Almost. It’s only a big deal to be a commercial chicken and live three years. Just chalk that up to my list entitled, I thought I did well, until I found out I didn’t.

Given that enlightening statistic, I am not doing so well with my backyard hens. I’m down to only 3. I know, I know. If you’ve been hanging around this blog for long you might remember I started with a lot more than three. More like 15. But you know, life happens. There have been accidental deaths, malicious deaths, unexplained deaths, and drownings. It’s been quite the ride.

And if you haven’t been hanging around here long, here’s the dealio. These girls were raised in the house, yes you read that right, in the house! First in the bathtub of the extra bathroom then in the spare bedroom/office. A cardboard box served us well as a brooder until they were old enough to go outside. Looking back I realize I might have been a bit overprotective. They would sit on our hands and sit on the desk with me. Looking back I realize I didn’t realize little chicks could put off so much dander. Woowee, the dusting I did once they were outside. Then as they got older, they were treated to earthworms bought from the bait store. I watched them grow from little fuzzy chicks to the awkward ugly teenagerish stage before they turned into hens. They would fly on our laps, hide eggs willy nilly. They learned to get along with the dogs or rather the dogs learned to get along with them. One even hitched a ride with J-Dub to church and was walking around in the church parking lot.

These chickens have traveled with me, moving from Texas to New Mexico in the back of a truck because I couldn’t bear to part with them. They are dear to my heart. They have given me hours of enjoyment. Just the other day, I was throwing sticks for the dogs in the backyard and one of them attempted to fetch with them, running out behind them after the stick, hoping it was something a bit tastier, a Slim Jim perhaps. Of course I tried to get a video but by the time I ran to the house and grabbed the phone, everyone (dogs and chicken) had lost interest in my game.

These chickens are tough. You have to be to live around here. Just the other day I accidentally pelted one in the head with a pine cone. Pure accident. Trust me, I didn’t miss my calling playing softball.

Recently we’ve been dealing with our new dog Ozzie, the chi-weenie, really giving the chickens fits. There is one hen in particular he likes to bully and we’ve taken to calling her mangled back because he literally will get on her and attempt to pluck her alive, leaving her down exposed. Her back is a mixture of yellow and white soft feathers. He is punished harshly when he is caught but he is proving himself to be a slow learner in regard to the chickens. I didn’t know what to do and I almost gave him away but J-Dub, seeing the distress it was causing me and EK both, built a portable chicken tractor/coop for the chickens. Before that, they roosted in an old well house but were free to come and go and roam as they pleased. With this new chicken coop on wheels they are enclosed constantly but safe from the terror of the chi-weenie.

I prefer them to be free range. They prefer to be free range. But it puts me at ease to know they are safe when I can’t watch them closely. Each day I let them out to roam about and forage and I put the dog up. All animals are treated equally.

J-Dub worked a long time on the chicken tractor and I am so happy with it. These contraptions range anywhere from a couple of hundred to thousands of dollars. We tried to be as economical as possible and also reuse things around the place. Upcycle if you will. We can actually call ourselves green now.

He bought the lumber new and built a 6 foot by 6 foot frame. He covered it all in wire, bolted two wheels on the back (which may need replacing) and a handle on the front to push/pull/heave it around. There is a door to let the chickens in and out. On the back he built a box for them to nest in, equipped with their own little ladder to climb. The nesting box has a lid that opens up so I can reach in and get the eggs. He covered part of the top with tin and yes, he did, he added rain gutter which flows into the watering trough. On the opposite end is a feed trough with a trap door so I can dump hen scratch in easily.

And no, I don’t have trick chickens that lay oblong, funky shaped caps of some sort. That’s just a decoy. It worked.

Basically it’s a chicken dream house. And I’m really getting the itch to stock it with some babies.

Love is…..

Today I’m eating crow.

As you all know, it is Valentine’s Day. Yesterday, the facebook statuses started trickling into my news feed. You know the ones, posting what their sweetheart got them. I don’t really know what came over me, because I’m not against love or the designated day of love, but I just got a little nauseated thinking of what everyone would be saying about their lovers. So I put as my facebook status,

Gag. I think I’m staying off fb tomorrow. I can only handle so much lovey dovey crap and I’m pretty sure I’ve already reached my limit. Bah humbug.

This is me. I’m not a romantic. Big surprise. I’m not really fond of physical affection (Please insert sympathy for my husband here). I don’t think you should tell your 900 followers how great your spouse is and how much you love them on facebook when you should walk into the next room and tell them to their face, if in fact you really do feel that way. Nor do I like the bragging, the pictures of all the candy, flowers, diamonds, tickets to Hawaii etc. Sidenote: I do however enjoy seeing the pictures of kids dressed in their valentine attire holding their little valentine boxes they worked hard on.

So I had a few people like what I had to say, surprisingly they weren’t all single, and I got a little teasing from it as well, along with some comments of commiseration. It was all in fun of course.

When I woke up this morning, February 14, my husband was gone. I knew he’d made a run to The Walmarts before they crazy crowd hit. I was expecting the usual, but what I got was not the usual and it truly made my day. I have to share it. And I’m not bragging.

It’s not going to mean a thing in the world to anyone else. It is not a fancy diamond or a sports car with a red bow. It is not a new puppy or a day at the spa.

What I got…………drumrolll please………….is………..

……..a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.

And rolos. Because, duh?

Now some of you may be furrowing your brow and looking puzzled, but I am smiling. I can’t help but smile. When he handed that to me, I laughed and laughed and laughed.

It is quite frankly, my favorite line from one of my favorite movies You’ve Got Mail, where Tom Hanks tells Meg Ryan,

“Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.”

I love fall, school supplies, that movie, Meg Ryan, and newly sharpened pencils. The smell of them, the way they sound scratching on paper, all of it.One time in our life, I told Jason that I loved that line, that idea. Whether it was last year or 9 years ago, who knows. But he remembered my attraction to that silly notion, how I too would love to receive a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.So, that’s what I have.I love it. I’m not ever going to use them for it will mess up the meaningful arrangement that he constructed. My gift? It is thoughtful. It is unique. It is creative and meaningful. It is an inside joke. It is one of the most romantic things he could have done.Love is not about a day, friends. It’s not about a feeling you get in your stomach when you see a certain someone. It’s not about how much money you spend. Love is about the everyday things you do for one another. It’s about consciously putting other’s needs above your own. It’s about sacrifice and never giving up. Love is our greatest commandment from Jesus to love one another, to love your neighbor as yourself.Love is patient. Love is kind.Love is a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.

An Un-Manic Monday

I just crawled under my big white down comforter next to EK who is already asleep and snoring just faintly. It’s a Monday afternoon and it is far from manic. You all remember the Bangles? They used to sing a song called Manic Monday. It was completely dumb but I can’t help but think of it every time someone mentions their crazy Monday. And now, it’s on repeat in my brain. If it’s on repeat in yours, then I’ve done my job well.

I can’t help but think of what a good place I’m in with my life right now. I’m happy. Truly happy. Yes, of course I still have “those days”. Everyone does and we all will until we breathe our last breath, but for now, for me, I’m content.

I don’t have anything profound to say today, just wanted to say hi, but since I’m here why not unload a few thoughts on ya?

Thought #1: Early in January I received a big manilla (used to call it vanilla, doesn’t every kid) envelope addressed to me with my maiden name from my only blood uncle. Inside was some writings and photos of my dad’s. I kind of thumbed through it all, not really diving in, and then put it away. I’m not sure why, but like the ostrich I buried my head in the sand and pretended it wasn’t there, not sure I wanted to take that emotional ride at the time. Since then, I’ve pulled it out and there’s a few more stories that I’ve never published on here before so I’m going to have a few more installments of Stories By My Dad very soon.

Thought #2: It is 4 weeks to the day until I turn 39. Woo hoo, woo Hoo! No really, I’m very excited about that knowing I’m one year closer to my 40’s. Crazy I may be, but I’ve been looking forward to my 40’s for a few years now. I think they are going to be great.
Fabulous Forties.
Fantastic Forties.
NOT Frumpy Forties.

So, the bad part about it being 4 weeks until my birthday? I was going to lose 16 pounds by then. You want to know how many I’ve lost so far? +1 Yes, yes, I’m up a pound and it’s not for lack of effort either. But I’m not letting it get me down. I’ve been consistently exercising (except for one week in January when it got a bit crazy) and eating healthier and I can see my body changing. I’m not going to let the number on the scale discourage me when I know it’s working! Carry on.

Thought #3: I almost, ALMOST gave Ozzie away today. Remember Ozzie, that little chi weenie I got a few months back? Well he’s a royal pain in the rump. AND he cannot learn to get along with the chickens. I truly think he killed one, but I can’t be sure. I only know I found a headless chicken and I totally wigged out. I have no proof it was him, but my suspicion in high. That was several months back, maybe in the fall. J-Dub was out of town working. Let me tell you, I became a basket case. I didn’t even know it was in me to behave in that manner. But I did what I had to do,with snot running down my nose, and got a shovel and disposed of the headless bird. To top it off, I think it was Freedom.

So last night it was arranged that I would take Ozzie to someone today at 4:00. I was emotionally ready. Or so I thought. And then he and EK started playing and cuddling and she was saying, “I love Ozzie so much.” “He’s a good boy”. That’s when the guilt started. You see, I’m from the camp that believes once you get a dog, you have that dog for life. Yours or its. So guilt and failure came creeping in. Then he got up in my lap and laid so sweet and when he looked at me, it was like he knew and was pleading with me. I was sad and guilty yesterday evening and this morning I was almost in tears. I held him and stroked him and thought of the time I’ve put into him. The times I woke up in the middle of the night to take him outside to potty when he was tiny. The times I carried him on our walks because he was so little and pooped out to make it back to the car. I thought to myself he’s almost a year old, we’ve almost made it through the puppy stage, and I shouldn’t give up on him. So I backed out. I did. And I’ve felt much better all day about it.

Thought #4: I love quinoa these days. If you’ve never tried it, you must.

Thought #5: I checked out two books from the library BEFORE Christmas and have re-checked them like 2 or 3 times since. They are due Thursday and I think it’s time to add them to the list of books I never finished. One is We Were the Mulvaney’s by Joyce Carol Oates and All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthey. If you’ve read either one and you think I’m making a big mistake by returning them unfinished, stop me now.

Let’s see, what else?

Welp, I think my well has run dry now, there’s nothing else going on in this brain of mine now except the Bangles song.

I hope your Monday is good and un-Manic!

A Sesame Street Shindig

This past weekend we had a fun 2 year old birthday party, complete with the whole Sesame street gang. Initially I was just going to do Elmo, but once I got to checking out the internet, a.k.a Pinterest, for ideas, I knew the whole gang should be invited.

Every single idea was stolen fair and square. I take no credit.

I bought this cute Sesame street skirt and top from an Etsy shop called Sweet Sophia Designs. There was about 3 seconds in my thought process where I thought I might attempt to make it, and then I quickly decided that my sanity was worth the price of the outfit.

I made the Welcome sign with cardboard letters wrapped in wrapping paper and hotglued with ribbon.

I decided to go with cupcakes instead of a cake. With the cupcakes we served a fruit tray, some goldfish, and some cookies. To fit the theme; you know…..cookies for cookie monster, goldfish because Elmo loves his goldfish.

This was an easy idea for making an Elmo face, except either my platter was too big or my strawberries were too sparse and it didn’t help that EK kept sneaking in the kitchen and stealing strawberries.

These cupcakes were deceptively easy. I watched several different methods and decided to go with the easiest. I was so stressed about the amount of time these would take, but once me and my niece Ashlynn sat down, we had these decorated in less than one hour. Probably 36 cupcakes. I made cupcakes from a box cake mix. Then I bought that canned colored icing like Cheez Whiz comes in. I think if you study them they are pretty self-explanatory. For the eyes, I used round white candy melts and we used a tube of black icing to draw on the pupils. Cookie monster has a half chocolate chip cookie for a mouth and Elmo and Oscar have half an oreo with gumdrop noses for Elmo. We also just did some cupcakes with white icing and sprinkles just to change things up.

The cupcake tower is made with three cardboard circles, size 8″, 10″, and 12″ inch (or you could buy cardboard cake circles but I’m cheap). I used styrofoam flower circles as the base, hotglued together, and green beans as the center dividers covered in cardstock paper. The circles are covered in wrapping paper and then ribbon is glued around the cardboard circles. Easy peasy, just a little time consuming.

We played a couple of games. One was pin the nose on Elmo, which was just hilarious since noses were put all over the place and then a cookie monster beanbag toss, sort of. They mostly just stood and placed the cookies into his mouth instead.

It is simply a cardboard box with a cookie monster face glued on with the mouth cut out. I made 3 beanbag cookies by hot glueing felt circles together partway, filling it with beans or you can use rice, and glueing it closed. Those little triangles on top of the cookies are supposed to be chocolate chips, hehe.

Emma had four 2 year old and three-year old friends come and I think they had a fun time.

The sweetest part was telling Emma to tell her friends “Thank you” for the gifts. Well, she was confused and thought the gift was FOR them instead of FROM them. So she would open the present and then try to give it back to the giver. So sweet.

I had also told her prior to the party that her friends would want to play with her toys and that it was okay and she needed to let them have their turns (she’s two remember?) She did real good and let everyone do as they pleased, but as soon as the door closed after the last guest left, she ran to her little pink jeep and yelled “Emma’s turn!”

Oh the fun we’re having!

Blogs where I stole ideas:

http://www.chickabug.com/blog/2013/07/sesame-street-second-birthday.html

Kate’s Sesame Street Birthday Party!

2 Years Old

Emma Kate Darling,

Happy, Happy 2nd Birthday to you!!!

Oh I hope you know how much you are loved. But I’m sure you don’t. Of all the thousands upon thousands of words I have to use, there aren’t enough to convey it.

And not to boast or anything, (well maybe just a little), but you love your mommy right back. I mean a whole lot. Me and you? We’re like peanut butter and jelly. Or milk and cookies. Like hot chocolate and marshmallows or strawberries and cream. The two are better than one. Of the two years of your life, so far we have only been away from one another for a few hours at a time. 24/7 that’s me and you.

I keep thinking back to this day two years ago when you came screaming and crying into our world. People said my life would never be the same, and boy is that the truth. It is all the more enjoyable because of you.

So what does a 2 year old like you like? Right now, you really love Cinderella and you sing a lot. You pick up items to use as your microphone, and sing into it. You like to play dress up in your plastic, clompy heels and have tea parties with your daddy. You really love the playground and don’t like leaving once we’re done. There’s so many other things. Your dogs: Drew, Grace and Ozzie, your chickens, and your new fish Snowman. You make sure we wait for you to get your purse and put it on your shoulder when we take out the trash. You like to drive your daddy’s truck, so for Christmas you received a pink Barbie jeep but you barely push it to make it go one inch, then stop it.

People think you are timid and shy, but I think you are cautious. And that is a smart thing to be. You like to stay close to your people when we’re in a new place or around a lot of people and you don’t really talk to strangers or even look them in the eye. And that’s just fine for now. There’s not an impulsive bone in your body. You are an observer and a thinker. You wait and watch rather than jumping right in. And even though others might think they can boss you around, you know how to stand up for yourself. You have a strong voice and an opinion and you aren’t afraid to use it. Some of your favorite things to say right now sound very oppositional if you know what I mean.

But you also say so many sweet, kind things too. You are learning your manners very well and say thank you so much, please, excuse me and you tell people bless you when they sneeze. You say “I love you much” and if we’re really lucky we get hugs and kisses. You like to give long kisses until we start to laugh and our teeth bump. You give love pats and like to snuggle up in bed. You have a tender little heart at times and are learning compassion. You crawled into my lap and placed your hands on my face and asked me what’s wrong the other day when I was frustrated with something. Just last night you made me laugh when you fell upon the ground with your head resting on your forearms repeating, “It’s no use. It’s no use.” (learned from Cinderella) when you didn’t get your way. It is very obvious that you are a result of your environment and your daddy and I are trying our very best to show you the right way and give you strong examples to follow.

Of course books are still one of your favorite things but you’re pretty fond of movies as well. We take a weekly outing to the library for a story time and we take a weekly outing to a play group where you have lots of friends. Right now we’re working on learning to share and not be a Bossy Bessie!

Of course you’re smart. You have been from day one when you looked at us with those big alert eyes and understood everything we said to you. You are a talker with a big vocabulary, but you get a little frustrated at times when we don’t know what you’re trying to tell us. You have things memorized already like songs and the previews to Cinderella. You found this Youtube video months ago called egg surprise that you watch over and over and can recite verbatim. You are fully potty trained right now and are showing your independence with wanting to dress yourself and put your shoes and socks on.

You are a small, petite child. And healthy!!! Fortunately, we haven’t had to see a doctor in quite some time, so by our calculations you are about 32 inches tall and weigh about 22.5 pounds. You’re fearfully and wonderfully made and uniquely you. There is no one else like you sweet Emma. I must say I believe I won the jackpot with you.

Two years ago, you came into our world and settled right into our hearts. I have a very special place for you in mine. You will always be my little baby no matter how old or tall or heavy you grow and my desire is for you to have the best possible childhood available to you. I want you to know you are loved. I want you to remember good times with your family. I want you to understand that spending time with you is more important to us than spending money on you. I want you to be kind and generous and compassionate to others. I hope you read this letter when you’re sixteen and you think I hate you. I want you to know that always and forever our love for you is full, unlimited, and unconditional. That nothing you could/would/should ever do will change that. Ever. You are my joy, my love, my sunshine, my hope, my wealth, my legacy.

You are my love.

Happy Birthday, cupcake.

XOXO,

MomMEE ( how you say it, with emphasis on the second syllable)