My Murder Mystery Birthday Night-- More Fun that I Could Shake a Stick At!

I decided to celebrate my birthday twice this year, and after successfully orchestrating the Harry Potter themed birthday hullabaloo for my ten year old, I figured it was high time for me have a birthday soiree for my own self.  I invited a few of my Michigan friends over for an evening of fun and intrigue.  The theme: Murder Mystery.  The instructions were somewhat vague, leaving tons of room for creativity: "Please come dressed as your favorite murder mystery character."

My friends did not disappoint.  We had a wide variety of characters including...

Dame Agatha Christie and Detective Inspector Jack Frost.

What a handsome couple they make!

Adrian Monk and Precious Ramotswe.

Of course you've read Alexander McCall Smith's wonderful series about the lady detective from Botswana, right??

Dr. Reid and Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds were terribly impressed with my lifelike pistol shaped ice cubes.

Even Scooby Doo turned up!  And no one was more surprised or nosy than J.B. Fletcher.  

Of course I came to my own party dressed as my favorite geriatric murder mystery novelist.  And obviously since Jessica Fletcher was there, SOMEONE was murdered.  You'd think that the woman would no longer be on any one's guest list since murder follows her like ants follow a picnic.

The guests were aware of foul play as they approached the front door.

We obviously had to investigate and discover who had the blood on his or her hands, but first we served up mysterious food and drinks like Killer Cheese Dip, Mystery Meatballs, Baskervilles Biscuits, Hunch Munch and Magnum's Pina Coladas.  (Hugs, kisses and kudos go out to the friends who helped stock the buffet table!) Thomas Magnum, himself, even turned up to mix his favorite frozen party beverage...

Here he is mixing up some "Electric Kill-aid" with Lula from Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series.  We soon learned that anything mixed up in a blender or jug would be quickly consumed by our party guests. 

Afterwards we played a game which required us to pair up and quickly develop alibi stories so that we could clear our names.  Thomas Magnum conducted the interrogations, and they were pretty intense.

"Answer the question, Mr. Doo or you will never see another Scooby Snack again!"

In the end a perfect booby prize was awarded...

Detective Frost and J.B. both agreed that the writing in this NY Times Bestseller was criminal!

Best of all Jessica Fletcher and Magnum P.I. got to re-enact their high five from 1986.

And I got to play house with Magnum, which most certainly fulfilled some childhood fantasy I didn't even know I had.

I think I may have started something here!

I Had Another Birthday

How old am I again?

I am old enough to be slightly less excited than my two-year-old.

Lili knows she will be three on her next birthday.  Obviously I must be turning four since I am a bit older than she is.  Works for me.

"Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana." ~ Groucho Marx

Christmas in July!

"Wake  up!  Wake up, everybody!!  It's time for fun Christmas today!!"

And now a note from my ten year old:

"Yes, you read that correctly.  CHRISTMAS IN JULY!  Around the Carson house things are... well, Christmasy!  You may see  holly by the door, a jolly Santa figure, and even a small, lit tree!  There may be snowmen lurking in the bathroom and all sorts of other small surprises.  There are literally candy canes hanging from the ceiling.  There will be cinnamon rolls and treats too.  Of course Santa is a little too busy to visit today, but there's still that good ole Christmas spirit!  Who would have guessed what a wonderful idea it is to have a fun Christmas day in mid-July to be precise?  Keep your Christmas spirit folks because Santa watches us all year long, even in July!"

Today, for several reasons, we had a Christmas in July day.  My daughter Sophia's cooking camp was canceled at the last minute, and she was a bit depressed.  My daughter Lili has been obsessed with a book called That's Not Santa for the last two months, and she is very interested as of late in discussing Santa Claus, his reindeer, his wardrobe, and his bag of presents.  My daughter Emma simply loves Christmas, and when I mentioned the idea to her one evening last week when we were out for a walk, she decided that it simply must happen.   So today it happened.

I pulled out a few of our Christmas decorations from the basement and set the stage last night.  We also took the First United Methodist cinnamon rolls out of the freezer and pre-chopped all of the ingredients to make the world's best omelets this morning.  Buddy the Elf would have most definitely been pleased.

Today, while listening to their favorite Christmas Cd's, my girls looked through our Christmas cookie cookbooks and chose a couple of recipes that we've never gotten around to at Christmas time.  To be honest, as much as I love the Christmas season, it is often hectic and stressful, and the idea of dirtying up my kitchen to make experimental cookies does not appeal to me one bit.  Today, however, it was a perfect day for experimental cookies.  Emma and Sophie chose to make Thumbprint Cookies and Orange Snowballs.  The Thumbprints reminded us of British treats; my British friends do seem to love goodies with jam in the middle.  And the orange snowballs were a treat that I remembered from my own childhood.  After making them myself, I'm not sure that I like them anymore.  They were way tastier when I didn't know what was in them.  Did you know that there is LOTS of  butter and sugar in cookies? 

I had a delightfully wonderful time making cookies with this girl today.  Her two sisters curled up on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie, and she helped me make the thumbprint cookies.  She gave herself the title of "Cookie Editor in Chief" since she went behind me making sure that all of the cookies were the right size and that they each received a sensible portion of jam in the center.  Oh, how I love that girl!  One on one time with my older girls is a treasure these days.

For dinner we had somewhat Christmasy fare: roast chicken and vegetable with sage and onion stuffing, and I did get some high fives around the dinner table.  I also have a feeling these kids might remember and want to do it all again next July.  Tomorrow all evidence of "Fun Christmas" will be put away so that we don't get too much of a good thing, but a bit of Christmas was just what our hot July needed.

Summer Blueberries Still Do It for Me

I still love blueberries.  It's my 3th (pronounced threeth) summer here in Michigan, and I still get excited about the fact that I can pack up my kids, drive just a little way in the car, and pick my own buckets and buckets of blueberries.  We've been twice since the blueberries got ripe enough to pick, and the kids still indulge me when I want to take artistic blueberry photos like this...

On our last visit to the blueberry farm, my youngest insisted that everyone call her "Little Sal" while she dropped blueberries, kaplink, kaplank, kaplonk, into her little blue bucket.  "Little Sal" incidentally ate at least half of the blueberries she picked, but no one faulted her for that.  (Does your favorite pre-schooler know Robert McCloskey?  If not, you really need to go to the library.)

We've tried several recipes with our prized, locally picked blueberries: muffins, waffles, pancakes, smoothies, crumble, blueberry chicken, and I even see a blueberry cocktail in my future.  But my favorite way to eat them is simply by the handful.  And, as my friend Rebecca Hegner pointed out, if you do indeed eat nothing but handfuls of blueberries for dinner, you will go to the bathroom the next day.  For some that is worth getting excited about.

Happy Summer!

I  hope you are enjoying whatever is growing locally near you!

"One berry, two berry, pick me a blueberry.

Hat berry, shoe berry, in my canoe berry..."

-Bruce Degen, Jamberry

Just Go to Bed!

I  have complained in the past about the fact that three out of five people at my house don't seem to require as much sleep as ordinary humans.  I am not one of those people.  (I also have one eight year old daughter who is normal with regard to her sleep needs.)  Here is the biggest dilemma:  In addition to requiring 7-8 hours of sleep each night, I am also an introvert.  Of course this does not mean that I hate people or that I am terribly socially awkward, but it does mean that I need time alone to recharge my batteries.  So help me out here.  How am I supposed to get time to myself when all of these people are always awake and chattering?

My husband can and does often entertain himself late into the night.  My ten year old can also be persuaded to go to her own room and read, write, or draw, but my two year old is a real problem.  A wide awake two year old should not be left unsupervised even if Mama needs her 'alone time'.  I think it hits me especially hard during the summertime when I realize that I have been surrounded by talkative, needy people all day (and night).  When nine o' clock rolls around, I start to see spots before my eyes, and I hear my voice turn slightly hysterical sounding as I respond to repeated requests from children.  "Mommy, will you read to me?"  feels like, "Mommy, can I shove a pencil up your nose and pull your hair for twenty minutes?"

"Please, just go to bed!" I moan (especially when my husband is out of town).   Moaning and being generally overwhelmed and pathetic does not, however, work on my two year old, and I really try to suck it up and give her a calm and patient mama at bedtime.  We choose a night gown and pick out the standard three books to read.  I mutter a silent prayer in my mind, "Please not the Poky Little Puppy again!  Jesus, give me strength if that damn puppy goes tumble bumble, pell-mell down the hill again, I might just gouge my eyeballs out."  I manage to get through the stories each night.  I sing the songs too.  "Yes, dear, I will sing the theme song from Sesame Street again if you will get in your bed and go the #*@& to sleep when I'm finished."  I smile sweetly and do everything just so.  I quietly call out, "Good night," and tiptoe out the door.

I heave a great sigh of relief.  It is 10 pm, and I am finally alone for the first time in about fifteen hours.  I  creep upstairs and slouch into my office chair where I check facebook to see if your mom has sent me that new recipe for chocolate chip pork chops that everyone in her church circle loved so much.  Precisely 45 seconds later, I notice that my two year old has also silently ascended the stairs.  "I just wanted to tell you," she says sweetly, "that dinosaurs poop outside but never in the desert."  She recognizes the defeated grimace on my face.

I take a deep breath and say, "That's very interesting.  We can talk about it tomorrow."  I scoop her up, carry her back down the stairs, and tuck her back in to her bed.  "Goodnight."  I say with little warmth as I exit her room, but I hear her calling before the door is closed all the way.

"Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Lili's Mom!"  She calls out, "I was just wondering: could I have some milk?"  Had this been my first child, my response would have been completely different, but my third baby is rotten, and she gets the milk.  I just don't have any fight left in me.

After delivering the milk, I pad upstairs again.  I exhale and flop into my chair a second time.  I lose myself on a popular bookseller's website.  I enjoy reading about all of the books that I never seem to find the time to read.  Things have been quiet downstairs for several minutes, and I finally start to relax when suddenly I hear things being knocked about in the kitchen downstairs.  "Lili??"  I call out as I jump up and make my way out of the office to have a look.

She is on tiptoes inside the refrigerator.  "I'm just helping myself to a yogurt."  She explains.  I am a little too weary to be furious.  I allow my third-born to eat two bites of yogurt before I tuck her under my arm like a wiggling sack of potatoes and deposit her back into her bed.

"You can eat more yogurt in the morning, " I say, "But now it's time to sleep."

"But I'm not TIE-YAHRD!" she squeals.

"Of course you aren't."  I agree, "Goodnight."  I cover her with her quilt which she immediately kicks into the floor.  "Stay in bed."  I bark.

I don't even bother going back upstairs.  I go to brush my teeth abandoning all hope of quality time with myself.  Two minutes later an obnoxiously cute little girl slips into my bathroom and says, "I was sleeping, but the cat waked me up."

"Okay."  I say since there is no point in arguing with this person, "You need to go back to sleep and stay in bed."  I take her hand and lead her a little more quickly than she wants to walk.  "Get into your bed, and go to sleep."  I say these words with great determination and finality.  Then I go back to my room and climb into bed where I channel surf and finally settle on The Daily Show.

I hear creepy little footprints in the hallway.  I look toward the door and see four fingers, one nose, and two eyes looking sheepishly around the door frame at me.  "WHAT?"  I ask, "What is it this time??"  Sergeant Adorable scurries over to my bedside on two little bare feet.

"I smell toast."  She whispers.

And even though I know that I should look at her sternly and march her back to her bed, I don't.  I cannot do anything but throw my head back and laugh.  She also laughs, not knowing why.

I scoop her up and kiss her little round cheeks.  "There is no toast," I croak, "Go and get back in your bed."  I place her back on the floor and she trots back into her room where she stays for several hours presumably sleeping at long last.

And that's just about all I have to say about that.  I cannot explain it, and I generally place the blame squarely on my husband's shoulders.  He has been out of town for the past few days, and he has likely been keeping strange hours with very few of those hours devoted to sleep.  Often I wind up staying up ridiculously late since that is the only time I can truly be alone.  This is really no good because the next morning I am tired and short on patience from the get go.  I am pretty sure I need a vacation or, at the very least, a night in my Woman Cave ... with some toast. 

"Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school of genius." 

~Edward Gibbon