It's nice to have traditions.  Over the years, we've tried to create some new ones, especially for birthdays.  Nothing major, just little ideas which have formed over time, such as getting to choose the family dinner the night before your birthday.  
    This is a fun one, because it acts as a great way to celebrate the last night of being whatever age you are...with the kicker being...we all have to eat it.  The dinner can be anything from pancakes and bacon...to pickle cream cheese sandwiches.
    Once everyone's in bed, something else we like to do, is to decorate the door and hallway outside the birthday child's door.  Our son, Ethan just turned 11, so using his favorite colors, we hung streamers and balloons everywhere for him to go through in the morning. 
     It's never pretty, and actually kind of ends up looking like a birthday fairy puked in the hallway, but no matter, it's cute to see the kids run through it when they wake up.  
    Probably one of our favorite traditions, is to pick out the birthday cake.  This can be anything from a homemade cake to store bought, chocolate, vanilla, ice cream, pie...we've had superheroes to sports, Disney to Pokémon.  You name it.
    This year though?  (Bad pun) This year took the cake. 
    Ethan asked for a Sour Patch Kids ice cream birthday cake. 
    Sour.
    Patch.
    Kids.  
    Disgusting you might think?  Yes.  Yes, it was.     

     Baskin-Robbins makes adorable ice cream cakes with almost any possible idea imaginable.  When Ethan asked for the "Coolest Flavor EVER", I didn't know if they'd even consider it.
     They did.
     So much so, that when I went to pick it up, a group of women were waiting to see who had ordered it.
     "We've never had anyone want a cake like this," one of them raised her eyebrows, "We knew it must be for a boy".
     Our brand new 11 year old and his 12 and 8 year old brothers thought it was pretty much the most "Awesome" thing they'd ever eaten. 
     We grown ups on the other hand, gagged and choked down what little we could.  It was next to impossible to make our minds comprehend how something that looked so good, could taste so very, very bad.  Somewhere between a mix of rancid milk and vomit, decorated beautifully in sweet icing.
     Yes, it's nice to have traditions.  Some are nicer than others, but nice all the same.
     Aaaaaand if you just so happen to wonder what the cake tastes like, we have plenty of it left over for you to try. 
     Happy, Happy Birthday, Ethan!  We Love You More than all the cake in the world.  Especially, this one.         

    For as long as I can remember, two things have remained true.  One, I have absolutely no coordination and the other, I somehow have an even worse sense of direction.
     My Dad has called me "Grace" my entire life, as I've tripped over imaginary objects or run into walls.  The same holds true for my inability to get anywhere I'm supposed to be.  Like, ever. 
     I've been told more times than I could count how I wouldn't be able to find my way out of a wet paper bag if the instructions were written on the inside.
     It shouldn't have been a surprise then, when given a task of finding a location that's both foreign and distant, I'd pretty much be out of luck.
     Both our eight year old and seven year old had different school field trips on the same day.  My Mom graciously took our youngest on hers while my son and I were able to go with a friend to his.
     My friend's name is Christie, and I think she may have thought I was joking when I told her how lost I often got, upon giving her my sad attempt at directions.  She probably realized how legitimate that was however, around the time we were supposed to be on the highway, but were passing a field of horses...in the middle of nowhere.  It was a beautiful horse pasture mind you, but a horse pasture, nonetheless.
     Taking the directions over herself, she was able to find our way to our destination in no time at all, while I sat amazed at her ability.
     Moving on through our field trip, it should come to no surprise to you, yes, I got lost.  Not only did I get lost, I lost my friend Christie, only to turn and realize I lost my son, too.  The last I saw of him, he was with my other friend Jennifer and her son, having the time of his life.
    I knew Jennifer would stay with him, so that didn't worry me, I just had to figure out how to find them.  We were at a ridiculously amazing museum, but the problem was, it was endless.  Countless turns, attractions and every different direction you could go.  It was truly a positionally challenged person's own personal nightmare.
    Several wrong turns and many texts later, I found Jennifer, found my son and later even found Christie.
    The day turned out to be great with more fun than the kids could imagine.
     When I called Mom to see how their field trip went as well, the first words out of her mouth were, (true story) "I got so lost just trying to find the place".  
    At least I know I get it honestly.
    Thank you to my directionally challenged Mom and to Christie and Jennifer for such a wonderful day.  I couldn't have done it without you.
    What could've been an extremely frustrating experience turned out to be one of fabulous memories, forcing me to remember how, "Life is a journey, not a destination".
    Even on the days the journey seems to take you past one beautiful horse pasture at a time.