Its time

I am running a bit late with it all actually. Last night I had to just force myself and sit down and scramble some kind of invitations, as its only 2 weeks now til the big day. The big day of turning an actual age, although I think it must be quite nice to be in that zero stage.

So, here I was, sitting on the floor, digging through the craft supplies trying to figure out what to do. The only thing I knew was that the theme is dots. Why dots? Well, since you asked – the story begins more than a year ago, when I got home after the first ultrasound carrying a picture of this little blob of a thing. I presented it with suitable fanfare to the girls and after a bit of to and fro and lots of questioning eyebrows, I asked them what we should call it.

Me: It kind of looks like a blob…dot…

Little B: Dot! Dotty Dotty – exclaimed the little girl jumping around in total excitement and appreciation of her own genius idea.

Choir: We shall call iiiit…Dottyyyyy Dottyyyy…trala-laaaa

And the rest is history. These days Caramel Popcorn is Dodd Man, but he is not a little Dot anymore, so thats ok. Its acceptable. We evolve. We cannot be stopped from progressing.

Anyway, back to the poor woman sitting on the floor trying to be creative (while watching Dexter, but that part kind of makes me look uncommitted, so I would rather not add it to the story).

First I had to assess how much supplies I had and whether I even had enough quantity of the same paper to do something. I found some. I even had some scraps of dotted paper, left over from another project. Yay! Now what size can the invitations be?…Whats the biggest piece of dotted paper I can have for each…Its too hard. I should snack on some chocolate chips.

Eventually I figured it all out and cut up some ones from the red paper and got ready to glue and craft, as you do. And then it came, my own genius idea. And the rest is history. Lots of history happening.

The best part is when you open the invitation:

Surprise! And I stuck the cut up ones on the back, not to waste them.

No Poohs, no Wiggles, no trucks and other stuff that are completely not me. Simple and I hope it makes a person smile.

I dont want anymore toys. In fact there is a decision not to buy any more, unless its something Oh, So Fantastic We Have to Have it Or Our Lives Will Be So Much Less. And I wanted to let our guests know about that little tidbit. So I put something like:
“Mum has put a ban on new toys, so save your money…”

I ran it through Mr.Blab, as he is the proper expected English language wrangler. He was watching baseball and was pretending to think while peaking at the game.

Mr.Blab: How about…something like…we choose not to buy any more new toys…

Me: Nah, that makes us sound hoity poity. We choooose, cause we are so gooood.

Mr.Blab: Hmmm….yeah…..

….

Me: Stop watching the game

Mr.Blab: I am not…how about…something…We have decided not to buy new toys…or something like  as an alternative to buying new toys you could consider…yeah…hmm…we would appreciate no new toys and…

Me: What? So what am I supposed to put down?

Mr.Blab: I just told you.

Me: ???? Which part?

Me.Blab: The whole part

Me storms out the room, cause there is only so much half arsed thinking I can take, when trying to be a genius in a night.

This is what spurted out at that time and what is gracing the invitation:

“Mum has forged an all out war on new toys, so do save your money. A note from you with a special message or a memory of the birthday boy and his first year can be deposited on the day in a keepsake box and will be greatly appreciated”

Done.

Now the party. It never ends