We did simple decorations in the house. Bri (with a bit of help from good old mom) painted her own Chinese dragons and we hung them from the lights. There was a gentle breeze which made them swish and wave and they looked pretty darn cool, if I do say so myself. We also made huge fuchsia and aqua pom-pom flowers, and replaced all the couch cushions with red to keep the theme going. Due to not finding materials that ranked highly in our crafty vision, we scrapped the pinata. And the huge Chinese banners. And the life size paper mache Buddha. But still, we got the minimal look we wanted. As she put it, "It's Chinese. Not Chinese with a capital C." I was laughing too hard to correct the mistake.
Sweethings in Utrecht made the cake. This is the fourth cake we bought from them (we got our wedding cake there as well) and have never been disappointed. They are soooooooo worth the 2 hour round trip. Yeah, seriously that good.
I gave everyone a big slice. Some even asked for seconds. I ate thirds. She who holds the cake knife and cake server wins. Mmmmmmm.
The party itself went well. The girls had fun and got along just fine. They giggled a bunch and ended up watching a movie before retiring for the night. Of course the best laid plans of mice and men...... Around 11 pm all the girls were in bed, and two of them were actually asleep. I know, you seriously need to be amazed at the super-parent skills of that one. However, they were all awakened to explosions and rapid banging similar to machine gun fire. Freaked us all out for a minute there.
I guess it was bound to happen... the only slumber party in history where the girls would have actually slept got disturbed by a late-night half-hour fireworks display. Gah! Super mom forgot it was the annual "Bataviahavendagen". I mean the 500 signs all over the general area and detoured routes obviously weren't a big enough reminder. Nor where the excessive amount of firetrucks and large fencing surrounding the fireworks display area.
Being the cool mom that I am (read this: the giving up and embracing her destiny mom that I am), I called down to the sleeping room, "If anyone wants to see the fire....." at this moment I was cut off by shrieks and the sound of stomping feet coming up the stairs. It was all I could do to stand clear and not get trampled. My poor husband was not so lucky. He cunningly (or so he thought) got up the stairs first and took his post in the very front of the window (I think he actually called out "dibs" but he denies it.) and laid down on his side for the best and most comfy fireworks watching position.
It was his downfall. He quickly became the couch for two girls while the rest piled around him pressing together into one mass of energy, frenzy, and giggles. After every bang, pop, or fizzle there would be a shriek from the girls followed by various "did you see that?!?", "cool", and "ooooooooooooo pretty" remarks. In Dutch, of course.
I hid downstairs.
After the grand finale, the hoard of elephants tromped back down the stairs and into the sleeping room. By midnight they were all asleep. I still want those brownie points for being one-half of the "best ever at getting sleep out of girls at a slumber party" parenting team, thank you very much.
The next morning was a breakfast of croissants and raisin buns with butter and jam, followed by a frantic clean up, dressing, and packing session. By 1 pm all was quiet on the home front and a good nap was had by all (all the grown-ups, at least).
To quote Bri, "Good times, good times."
The party itself went well. The girls had fun and got along just fine. They giggled a bunch and ended up watching a movie before retiring for the night. Of course the best laid plans of mice and men...... Around 11 pm all the girls were in bed, and two of them were actually asleep. I know, you seriously need to be amazed at the super-parent skills of that one. However, they were all awakened to explosions and rapid banging similar to machine gun fire. Freaked us all out for a minute there.
I guess it was bound to happen... the only slumber party in history where the girls would have actually slept got disturbed by a late-night half-hour fireworks display. Gah! Super mom forgot it was the annual "Bataviahavendagen". I mean the 500 signs all over the general area and detoured routes obviously weren't a big enough reminder. Nor where the excessive amount of firetrucks and large fencing surrounding the fireworks display area.
Being the cool mom that I am (read this: the giving up and embracing her destiny mom that I am), I called down to the sleeping room, "If anyone wants to see the fire....." at this moment I was cut off by shrieks and the sound of stomping feet coming up the stairs. It was all I could do to stand clear and not get trampled. My poor husband was not so lucky. He cunningly (or so he thought) got up the stairs first and took his post in the very front of the window (I think he actually called out "dibs" but he denies it.) and laid down on his side for the best and most comfy fireworks watching position.
It was his downfall. He quickly became the couch for two girls while the rest piled around him pressing together into one mass of energy, frenzy, and giggles. After every bang, pop, or fizzle there would be a shriek from the girls followed by various "did you see that?!?", "cool", and "ooooooooooooo pretty" remarks. In Dutch, of course.
I hid downstairs.
After the grand finale, the hoard of elephants tromped back down the stairs and into the sleeping room. By midnight they were all asleep. I still want those brownie points for being one-half of the "best ever at getting sleep out of girls at a slumber party" parenting team, thank you very much.
The next morning was a breakfast of croissants and raisin buns with butter and jam, followed by a frantic clean up, dressing, and packing session. By 1 pm all was quiet on the home front and a good nap was had by all (all the grown-ups, at least).
To quote Bri, "Good times, good times."
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