You Do Not Find the Happy Life, You Make It

I used that Thomas Monson quote on my February 25, 2016 blog post, and didn't realize at the time that I would blow up my plans 3 days later and start from scratch. I didn't realize or have any way of knowing just how busy I would be in 2016 making, or constructing and building, that happy life.

Today we hit the 10 week mark of being in our new home! Most days I pinch myself, just to see if it's real. I am thrilled with how it turned out, satisfied with the unpacking pace, and eager to embrace 2017 and find our new normal life again. I got my car into the garage on Sunday, so that truly means we are in and just about all done unpacking, right? ;-) 

This time last year, we stood on a slab in full despair of ever seeing "our dream house" begin. Who knew this time last year that we would turn our world upside down by canceling that contract on February 28, 2016, extend the agony of building, and that I would post quarterly on this blog, vs. my ideal (dream) goal of weekly? Like I have said many times since February 2016, sometimes God shatters your dream to give birth to a bigger and better dream. Yes, yes He does.

I haven't photographed our new home much yet, because we still haven't got everything on the walls, and there's one more piece of furniture I want to reupholster, and there's a box in our bedroom, and the study lacks its built-in cabinets, and the list goes on and on. ;-) But, the holidays are behind me, my oldest son came and went in a Thanksgiving and Christmas swirl, and is now back in Nashville in his last semester of college, the Christmas rush is through and the decorations are put away, the unpacking frenzy is for all intents and purposes finished, and I can sit at my worktable in Scrap Central and breathe. And think. And ponder. And itch to create. And print photos. And cut paper. It feels so good to have a spot again, albeit an unfinished spot. And I am excited for all of the story telling I can accomplish in 2017. 

But before I head fully into a new year in our new home, I wanted to share with you all my layouts I created in June and July of 2016 that documented our old home. I only completed 99 layouts in 2016, the lowest amount of scrapbook pages I've ever done since beginning to scrapbook in 1994. Out of those 99, these are my favorites by far. These photos, these memories, these layouts were so instrumental in helping me hold together my sanity in the dog days of summer 2016 in the hot, cramped, dark apartment. And they pay homage to our beautiful old home, they document her splendor, they let me say goodbye properly to her, and ultimately they open the door for me to fully embrace our new home, and all the story telling it will cultivate, and all the memories it will create. 

Yes, you do not find the happy life, you make it. One day at a time, one story at a time, one decision at a time, one moment at a time. And once you make it, hang on to it, and embrace it. Hello beautiful new home, hello crisp new year, goodbye old home, goodbye 2016.

There's No Place Like Home ~ June 2015 ~ Remembering Murphy Manor

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: October Afternoon, Simple Stories

Title Fonts: Ballerina Script

A Gift to My Heart All Year Long

I think in the span of November to January, I created 10 double layouts about Christmases past - 20 pages. They ranged from 2008 to 2013. It was a little gift to myself to camp out in the season, during the season. Honestly, scrapping Christmas seems such a herculean task to me. There are so many photos taken that whittling them down is hard, and scrapping them all is impossible. But I love the moments and memories enough to try. Sometimes it just takes me awhile. ;-) 

I have a very large Library of Memories. Keeping up with it all is almost a part-time job. But, undaunted and eager to keep the yuletide memories burning, I set out to decipher what Christmas events and years I had scrapped, what I wanted to scrap and hadn't, and what pictures would remain as jpegs. 

{Will my children ever mine this virtual treasure trove? Today, my iPhoto library sits at 47,451 photos. And while I have converted some negatives to jpegs, those span for the most part my post-digital years, which commenced in 2004. I don't even dare project a future number. I strive to keep the closets and clutter clear, but I can't let go of my images. They are each so dear to me. I have a semi-blurry shot of my boys with their arms up in the air, facing the same direction, doing basically nothing understandable to the discerning eye. But, when I see that photo, I am transported back to a Wednesday night when they came in from Cribs and I was sitting here playing Mercy Me's "This Life" and the boys spontaneously and immediately went into a synced dance move to the rave sound of my favorite band, which immediately surprised, delighted, and tickled me. How can I lose my jpegs? They are my stories.}

So, Christmas layout To Do list in hand, I printed off pictures, pulled stacks of patterned paper and cardstock, printed the hot off the press Scrapbook Generation Christmas Sketch book {I will forever feel the press date was my very own personal magical birthday present!}, grabbed a very few sets of punches and basic tools, and headed off to Florida with my mom. We were going to have two days to be together and scrap before Steve flew in to join us, in my very own beautiful room at the Grand Floridian. Mom and I sat at the dining table in the one bedroom Villa, and opened the sheers and scrapped for two days while we watched the monorail slide by against the sunny clear blue sky and listened to my Christmas iPod shuffle.

It was part of my "magical birthday". You are more than likely aware to some degree of my strong affectation to all things Walt Disney World.  ;-) And for so very long, I have had the dream of doing my two very favorite things there - being at Disney AND scrapping. And dreams can come true! My sweetheart of a husband gifted me with my dream 50th birthday gift - six days at Walt Disney World: one day for each park, and two days to scrap with my mom. It was an amazing trip. I was just revisiting the photos two days ago. Yes, more scrapping dilemmas. But, I'll take those kinds of problems any day. ;-)

While we were there, in the land that starts Christmas the day after Halloween, in the hotel that pipes in the smell of baking gingerbread to create the backdrop for the amazing and beautiful and large gingerbread house, while poinsettias greeted us everywhere, and carols floated through the air, I got to scrap Christmas. I did basically just the foundations for my pages during those two days - but I was very pleased with my progress, and I will confess to perhaps a long dinner break at Downtown Disney window shopping, and a yummy sandwich at Beaches and Cream, and the sharing of an ice cream sundae that should be against the law it is so large. 

I have shared with you some of the other Christmas layouts that had their genesis during this magical birthday trip, and rather than post the last of these individually, I am just going to roll the rest of them out today. It's time to move on. The season is done, the decorations are finally headed into the attic today, and it's time to share these four final layouts.

Tree trimming, and artichoke dip, and the favored cheese ball and yes, those totes and totes of my beloved Hallmark Ornaments. And boys dancing to Christmas carols and delighting in their own memories. 

The worst Christmas ever - the year a stomach bug tore through 5 of the 6 of us like a domino freight train, and also the year that I gave Andrew houseshoes that he loved, but then later decided he hated, and the next year when I gave him another pair because that pair had worn out, not knowing he now hated houseshoes, that he pitched a little fit. And the year that I wanted an iMac so badly, but got a Kindle. 

The year that it was our turn for Granny and Papa - working hard to make everyone happy and pack meaning into every moment, knowing your parents are aging and your children are aging, and trying to make every moment count, no guarantees for the next rotation, four years out. The year of big boots, and Star Wars, and stamps, and toothbrushes, and Big Bang, and Root Beer floats. 

It all comes down to Comfort and Joy, I think, when you go to sum up Christmas. The comfort of hearth and home. The joy of being together, the joy of the season, the Joy in the meaning behind the season, the true gift of Christmas. Each year is its own story, with some of the same moments repeating. {Repeat the Sounding Joy, Repeat, Repeat the Sounding Joy!} And yet each year has its own unique moments. 

Christmas is a day. But it is such a big day that it cannot fit all into one calendar square. And so it becomes a season. And as I age, and as I mine my treasure trove of memories, it develops into more than a day, or a season. It is a gift to my heart all year long. 

   

Comfort & Joy ~ Christmas Morning ~ December 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Carta Bella

Title Font: Pacifico and Arial

Christmas in the Heart ~ Christmas Day ~ December 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Carta Bella

Title Stickers: Authentique

Christmas with the Family ~ Christmas Day ~ December 2009

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Authentique

Title: Honey Script, Silhouette Cut File

Be Merry ~ Tree Trimming ~ November 2009

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Simple Stories

Title Block: Simple Stories

Decembers Documented

I arrived home this morning around 1 AM, seriously telling myself I am now too old for this. When we moved away from the Houston nucleus of my family in 1997, we settled into a trajectory of Christmases in our own home, and family Christmas trips that I would now make across the state as the solo adult, carrying all of the responsibility of travel, and shepherding two small children, as we traversed "over the river and through the woods" to whomever's house held family Christmas that year. 

So, for 17 years now, I have worked to initiate the family Christmas gathering, managed it around my own working schedule, and shouldered all of the burden of taking the boys to be with my family at Christmas time. It has never been easy. Not ever. But it is something I have always been willing to do because my boys, like their mom, love family gatherings, and because it is important to me to be with family at Christmas. I made sacrifices as needed over the years to be ready for Christmas a week early, and get us to wherever Christmas was held, with all our Christmas regalia packed up and loaded into my vehicle.

Every year a different collection of family members are present, and each year is a very unique and precious memory. Over the years, we have grown from my childhood family of six to a family that now contains five family branches: my parents, and the family branches of me and my three siblings. My oldest sister married and had four children. Her children are all married now, and she has seven grandchildren. Her family totals 17. My older sister married, had three children and adopted four children. One of her children is married and my sister has three grandchildren. Her family totals 13. My family of four is the smallest. My brother is married and has three children. 

So, together, we total 41. 41. There has never been a time when we have all been together at the same time. One of my nephews serves in the Air Force and has been stationed overseas. He is now stationed in the U.S., but I now have a niece teaching English in Thailand. Other then the overseas stints, and my boys presently going to college out of state, we have all always lived in Texas. But getting together is hard. Schedules are crazy busy. The idea of everyone being present is both mind boggling and frightening to this introvert. I do best when there are less than 20 of us together. Not to say I wouldn't love it if we were all together, but I am okay with it being smaller crowds.

Even though I have had to make the trip by myself every year, leaving Steve behind to work his retail magic, even though I don't always do well around lots of children, even though noise is not my thing, even though I crave quiet and my own hearth, I have committed to being present for all of these years for family Christmas. It has sure been something to watch it evolve over all of these years. Admittedly, my sisters and I are photo hounds, so these annual December gatherings are duly documented and in the memory books to be sure.  

The first wave of change, of course, occurred when we (my siblings and I) all married and had our own children. It has been a joy to watch my nephews and nieces grow up, and to see my children and my siblings' children create their cousin bond. Seeing my nieces and nephews married now and parenting their own children is another layer in the generational circle. As I sit and watch them with what I call my greats (my great-nephews and great-nieces, of which I have ten) I am taken back to my own childhood and  memories of my aunts and uncles, and I recall the interactions I had with them and how special they were to me. It does not seem so very long ago that we were gathering at my Aunt Ernestine's house for family Bingo, or having a summer reunion at my Aunt Jeanine's lake house or my Uncle Jimmy Ed's home. I treasure those times, and pray that my nieces and nephews and sons do as well.

2014 brought another fundamental shift. My own sons are in college now and the traditional weekend before Christmas was no longer an option when considering their schedules. All these years, we have worked around my older sister traveling to Kansas on the day after Christmas. She began that annual trek early in their marriage and has never varied in her travel plans. All these years, I have worked to travel home to family Christmas on the weekend that worked for her family, the weekend before Christmas. And this year was the end of that road, for now. In my head I understand that perhaps things can't continue. In my heart I am sad that this year it was just me and my sons, my parents, and my oldest sister and her children gathering on the weekend that worked for me and the boys, the weekend after Christmas. Family Christmas was missing a big branch. But, it was family Christmas nonetheless. I imagine family dynamics will continue only to shift as we all continue to age and schedules continue to change.

But, in my mind I will remember the early days, when all of the kids were school age and younger, when we were all together, when the schedules were simple and the days were jumbled together in a chaotic mix of presents, pajamas, and peanut butter fudge. Every family Christmas has been special, but I think of those early, simpler years with fondness, mainly because we were all together. They seem now, as I look back, to be especially Merry and Bright.

Merry & Bright ~ Family Christmas ~ December 2008

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation >> They are masterful at creating Simple Stories (SS) basic "page recipes". When you have lots of family photos, these SS basic SG sketches work so well with the SS grid-like elements. This page came together very fast and is not complex. But, there is so much going on in the photos it works well that way for me.

Paper: Simple Stories

Title: Heidi Swapp chipboard ABC's

The True Gift of Christmas

I guess you could say Christmas runs deep in me, embedded down into the very ends of my roots. Not the gifts per se, so much. As a child, Christmas was never all about the gifts. It was, in my heart, about family time, about being together, about specialness - from the foods to the clothes to the decorations. And mostly about treasuring all of that.

We had a family tradition as I was growing up. We would open presents on Christmas Day, promptly clean up and dress, pack up the suitcases, pick ONE thing from the Santa pile, and head north on 45, traveling from Houston to Denton on days that began before the sun appeared. Squishy rides, in our "Christmas dress clothes", sleeping so as not to alter our appearance, and clutching our one thing we had been allowed to bring. 

We made our appearance at my grandmother's always before noon. We would usually be the first ones there, and we would have a grand waiting game to see who arrived next, hoping the car that pulled up contained the cousin that was our age, with a story prepared about all that Santa did bring us, even though we were manifesting only the one gift. Ahhh, memories! By the time dinner was served, and the tree was "opened up and gifted out", there would be probably 40 of us, if I were to guess off the top of my head. My mother was the youngest of nine, and most years, 7 of the 9 children were there with their children, as as time elapsed, grandchildren. Four generations of Christmas love.

As precious and tender to me as those memories are, once I married, Christmas took a different bend to me. The Denton trek passed in its original form in 1979 when my dear granny lost her cancer battle. We would continue to go, but the regularity and constancy of the holiday fundamentally shifted, as if an earthquake had come through, and my mom then began to craft a new Christmas definition for my immediate family. As we all married, the holiday continued to metamorphose, until we are today at a place far, far from where we began as children.

I would say the biggest difference is that Steve is in retail. He loves it, he truly does. And I am always so happy to have a spouse that enjoys his job, and does well with it. But, without a doubt, him having the one day off created another tectonic shift in the plate of family gatherings. For the years we were still living in the Houston area, we managed to limp along and keep up with my sisters' families and how they celebrated with my parents. In 1997, when we moved to San Antonio, we left behind all pretense of keeping traditions the same, and celebrated for the first time Christmas Day all by ourselves - Steve, me, the boys. 

In two days, we will celebrate our 18th Christmas here {alone} in our home. Every few years, my parents will join us, and I believe my husband's parents have joined us for two of those 18 years, and we are grateful for the years our parents can join us. But, for the most part, these Christmases in our house have been just the four of us. Steve will come home early on Christmas Eve, more tired than he will admit, and have 36 hours to revel in the true joy of the season before heading out to after season sales and merry markdowns. But, we take it. It is the Christmas we know, it is the only kind of Christmas my sons know.

We make the most of our time. I will confess that while I sometimes am lonely and blue during the month of December, I do not regret at all that we are given the gift of having Christmas Day in our home. I think, too, that my husband and sons would agree with me. We love our little traditions. We love being together. We love soaking in the season - the ADVENT - the longing for the true Gift.

And because we have always been home for Christmas, I have always strived to make it memorable and fun and have, with the wonderful help of my husband, decorated the house every year, in much the same spirit as my dear granny. A tree in every room. Goodies in tins. Thoughtful gifts, full of love. Stockings on the mantle. This year's morning ritual has me turning on the lights for 9 trees downstairs, and the garland on the stairwell. And one of my trees has ornaments on it that were actually my granny's ornaments, treasured glass balls.

And we begin the season each year for our family with our little tree trimming party. My husband's family was large enough to be their own party, and so he brought with him his little family party gene, and I have loved embracing that tradition. Each of us pick a fun party food, and we have poinsettias to drink {half cranberry juice/half ginger ale or champagne} and we turn on my holiday music mix. Unpacking new ornaments from their Hallmark boxes, pulling previous years' ornaments out of the ornament bins, fluffing up the Christmas tree, turning on the lights, and hanging the beloved ornaments. We work together, trimming the tree until it is finished and lights up the corner of our family room.

We each have our favorite ornaments. We will ooh and aah over different ones, and be excited or dismal over what our assigned ornament bin contains. The Barbies? The boys don't like them so much. I understand. I feel the same way about the trains, trucks, planes, and cars. ;-) My favorites to hang? Hands down, the Nostalgic Houses series. The first one was introduced in 1984 and this year we purchased and hung on our tree the 31st house in the series. I just love them. Over time, we transitioned from buying our Hallmark ornaments at half off after-Christmas sales to buying them premiere weekend in the fall.

At any rate, we have many, many Hallmark ornaments and they each have a story to tell, their own unique identity, much like the tale a Christmas season develops of its own accord each year. They are each treasured in their own way, rotating positions on the tree each year, handled by each of us over time, creating a compendium of memories as we work together to craft a Christmas tree that will be like no other one we ever have. 

And while a tree is just a tree, to me it is a shining symbol of hope, of eternal love, of the truest Gift of the season. I often can hear Linus reciting it, when at the end of Charlie Brown's search for a tree, Linus reminds him that it is never really about the tree. Yes, we kick off the advent season with the tree, and it is the last thing to come down and be put away, but the meaning for the season, the Gift of the season, stays with us all year long.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. - Isaiah 9:6

As I type this on Merry Christmas Eve Eve, as we look at marking another year together as a family of four, I wish for you each the joy of the season, a Christmas full of wonder and peace - and may you know the true Gift of Christmas. Merry Christmas!

Santa's Elves ~ Tree Trimming ~ Christmas 2008

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation

Paper: Authentique

Title: Silhouette cut file

Million Dollar Movies, Priceless Moments

Some of us are old enough to remember television on three network channels only...and maybe that fourth local channel that offered reruns, if you could twist your antennae just right and the wind wasn't blowing too hard. You know...the days when the children were the remote? And there was one television in the house and it might have been in a cabinet as big as your sofa?

Dad and mom had the most amazing television set. And boy was it ever a set. It was a long chest-like cabinet, with the television screen in the middle, and big speakers on either side of it. The fascinating part, though, was that the top of both speakers lifted, and revealed a turntable on one side and a tape player on the other side. Opening up those special cases was akin to opening Fort Knox. 

Every time mom wanted to move the furniture, the big question was, "Where will we put the TV?" You see, it had to hook up externally to the antennae that was outside the window, via a thin black cord that was the equivalent of the TV's umbilical cord. That TV could only go so far from the window. Otherwise, it really was just another big piece of furniture.

It's so funny to think back now to how we all circled around that square screen, as if it were the campfire. However, none of us could sit directly in front of the screen if dad was home, as our little heads would block his view. Of course, we could not talk either. We sat between him and the speakers and we couldn't - or didn't - dare override the important sound emitting from those side speakers that accompanied the grainy - and sometimes still black and white - picture off our  choice de jour from our four channels.

So, our little semi-circle on the floor each night was our "front seat" to the wide world of sports, olympics that occurred every four years, news that came on twice a day for 30 minutes, Mash, Sanford & Son, All in the Family, The Waltons, The Carol Burnett Show, and the crowning moment of any day, The Tonight Show with the inimitable Johnny Carson. {I was only old enough to stay up late enough to watch this when I entered high school.} As persnickety as all the TV watching rules were, we did do a lot of laughing over simple sitcoms and comic geniuses.

Afternoons of TV were much more relaxed. They usually included my brother and I settling in to our favorite set of reruns - Gilligan's Island, I Dream of Jeannie, Leave it to Beaver, The Addams Family, The Monsters, with maybe some Flintstones thrown in there somewhere. And oh, the Scooby Doo marathons that a Saturday morning offered! So many simple moments together on that oval rug that substituted for the highway of our MatchBox cars during antennae outages or program delays - or the dreaded news bulletin interruption.

Life was simple. Four channels simple. Amazingly, we got all we needed to off of those four channels. And, we didn't even get to watch everything they offered! Soap was off limits. I think Eight is Enough was also off the list. And we missed all of the Wonderful World of Disney broadcasts since we went to church every Sunday night. There are still, to this day, Disney classics I haven't seen. {Shudder.} ;-)

One of the best memories of all of the TV elements, though, is my memory of the daily movie. Every afternoon at 3 PM, the local CBS channel would run the MILLION DOLLAR MOVIE. It had such a hokey graphic. A case, shaped to hold a roll of movie film, decked out and completely covered in gold rhinestones, with simple black all caps lettering on it saying MILLION DOLLAR MOVIE. But, the fun part was that it was on a little turntable and it would slowly spin, as if that made the movie more compelling.

Mom and I watched so many movies together. She was home until my brother started kindergarten, and then she was home in the summer. It would be a warm sunny afternoon, and she would sit on the couch folding laundry, and I would sit at her feet, and we would sing with Elvis, laugh with Bob Hope, and cry with Doris Day. It was a quiet time of the day. The movie would be over by 5, and dinner would be started during the commercials toward the end. And in those pre-dusk shadowy afternoons, movie magic happened. Life paused. Aside from the laundry, the to-do lists were set aside. Mom and I would sit there and watch the movies, happy to be together, happy to be entertained, happy to see the showcase of the million dollar movie.

I have always loved movies. Seeing a good movie throughout my life has always been a joy. Steve and I had many dates to campus movies. We still love to go today. Finding a new classic, a new favorite, is like finding a true treasure. I think it goes back to those afternoons with my mom. 

Sometimes in the absence of clothes clamoring to be folded, I could curl up on the couch next to her, settling into the soft crook of her padded arm. She was a good pillow. She was a good movie buddy. She is - and always has been - my great friend. While I have my memories of the million dollar movies, I am blessed today to still have my movie buddy, and our friendship is the real movie magic.

Reel Favorites ~ Timeless Movies I Love ~ 2009

Beaches and Peach Cobbler

Squeaky flip flops. Crisp, cotton baby doll pajamas. A worn Monopoly board. A banana seat on a bicycle. Cereal for breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner. Lazy afternoons spent under the shade of the massive oak tree. Dusty evenings spent in my shed with my Barbies. Summers in the '70's.

Summer workshops. Trips on school buses. Long lists of reading books. Weeks with granny. Odd jobs. Extra babysitting. Cut off jeans. Reruns of Gilligan's Island. Walks to the Lucky 7. Late night games of Hide 'n Seek. Summers in the '80's.

Hot panty hose. Hotter car. Quiet Saturday mornings on the deck. Long-planned vacations with suns that set far too fast. Late night walks. Early morning bike rides. Peach cobbler. Friday evenings on shaded patios. Summers in the '90's.

Paper plates. Pop-tarts. Blackberries. Icicle pops. Pool floats. Happy Meals. Park picnics. Blanket forts. Beach trips. Dirty floors. Kool-aid smiles. Shade tree swinging. Watermelon bellies. Summers in the '00's.

Beach camp. Sonic Happy Hour. Chacos. Ben & Jerry's. Summer Blockbuster Premiers. Destination vacations. Open Door. Patio dinners. Weekend coffee on the porch. Firework extravaganzas. Saturday pancakes. Media room marathons. Summers in the '10's.

Aside from college, I have lived in five cities. All in Texas. Some would call that isolated. I call it lucky. I love a hot summer. Every part of it - from the breezy early morning through the heat of the day to the still dark heat of a starlit night. I love that school is out. I love that vacations transpire. I love that life slows down. I love that company comes by. I love that crazy schedules dissolve. I love hot cars. I love cold drinks. I love relaxation. 

There was a song on the radio when I grew up. The opening lyrics captured so much of how summer's definition in my heart came to be, as I played outside with my brother and my neighbor:

Goodbye to you, my trusted friend.
We've known each other since we were nine or ten.
Together we've climbed hills and trees,
Learned of love and ABC's,
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time...

I think as I grew older, and we raised the boys, I tried to hold on to and then share with them the joy and the fun of a simple summer afternoon spent playing Clue or swimming with dad after work. Summer can be the best part of life.

As my life marches on and I age, I am more aware of the season in my own life. As much as my heart wants to stay planted in summer, it does always give way to fall. Seasons out of time are words for a song. No matter my age, though, I think in my heart I will always live for summer. Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase "I Heart Summer."

I Heart Summer ~ Summertime Faves ~ July 2013

Sketch Credit: Simple Stories blog post by Gail Lindner http://simplestories.typepad.com/simple_stories/2013/08/summer-friends.html

Paper: Simple Stories

ABC Stickers: Simple Stories

My Comic Book Kid

It's hard to get anything past this kid. He's a little too much like his mom. In many ways. The big 18 loomed, and we were faced with the fact that older brother would be away at college and two good friends would be out of state on vacation. No birthday day celebrating. Andrew could not even get a little excited about his big day without his 3 main side kicks. 

So, introduction of Plan B. And Plan B mushroomed. Once we had those 3 on board, we got the creative idea to blow it all out into a big party, a surprise party, a surprise birthday party, the likes of which this kid hasn't seen in a few years.

I honestly think the last time he had a birthday party was in the 6th grade. And I'm not gonna' lie. I've had serious mom guilt about it. But, to my point, he is like his mom and has not wanted a party. So, against all wishes I knew he would have, hubby and I set out to mastermind an 18th birthday party bash, albeit a party one week before his birthday. Which I knew would bother him. Like it would bother his mom. But, having it early was in our favor since it would be totally unexpected. 

Hubby worked with the pastor at church, Bo, who worked with the kids from church and it looked like we were going to pull this thing off. We waffled a little bit on what exactly to do with a house full of boys, and we waffled a bit on whether or not to get a birthday cake. We knew good teenage boy food was key and that cake would good - and we knew we could figure out some kind of after dinner event that would make Andrew smile. I just felt it would all come together. 

And come together it did. All the boys showed up on time. Bo had commandeered Andrew to come over to work on some things...and then blindfolded Andrew and promptly drive him back home. Hubby got home with the Pluckers wings and the birthday cake. I printed off an X-men image to decorate the cake. Was it actually going to come off without a hitch? 

Sure enough, Bo got Andrew there and through the doorway before Andrew knew where he was. And when he walked through the door and saw everyone, his face lit up like a Christmas tree! Score! The kid who didn't ever want a party could actually have a party and enjoy it!  Wings, chips and queso were devoured, the cake was enjoyed, gifts were fun, all amidst typical teenage boy teasing and conversation.

 They laughed and cut-up and were genuinely having a great time. Almost all of them opted to head out to see The Wolverine movie with my guys. The party was the perfect way to celebrate his big day. It was an added bonus that the teen boy movie d'jour was actually an X-Men movie. 

But beyond the obvious success of the evening, I saw the real gift of the evening. 12 young men came into our home and celebrated my somewhat introverted son. My son that gives of himself and never asks anything in return.

You see, my comic book kid is full of surprises and he regularly entertains us with his own comedic banter, his quick retorts, his deep ability to empathize, his rapier sharp wit. And he is my super hero. Because he can do all of that with a skip in his step and a smile as big as Dallas on his face. Kapow. Bam. Wow. 

Surprise ~ Andrew's 18th ~ August 2013

Sketch Credit: Scrapbook Generation http://scrapbookgeneration.blogspot.com

Paper: Simple Stories

Font: BD Cartoon Shout