Happy Birthday, Carmella!

It's official! C. has turned 7 years old. When she was four, she used to think that she could do anything if only she were seven. "When I'm seven, I'll be able to chew gum. When I'm seven, I'll be able to watch Scooby-Doo." And she definitely can! Not only does she chew gum (occasionally), but she reads, rides her bike, makes her breakfast and looks at the world through new eyes.

So to celebrate on her special day, we met her aunt and cousins at a famous American eatery, TGIFriday's. The one thing I knew she wanted was to go to a restaurant and have them sing "Happy Birthday" to her and bring her a fancy dessert. So of course I accomodated that desire and found myself smack dab in the middle of the suburban American version of "eating out."

Now lest I come across like a snob, let me admit right now that I am a snob. We rarely eat out, and on those rare occasions we try for some ethnic cuisine or upscale pizzeria. But here we find ourselves on a Friday night, fighting for position at the hostess table, adding our names to the list of hungry families needing their mass-produced meals. It was somewhat frightening really, but that was nothing compared to the food.

Applebees, Chili's, Outback Steakhouse, Uno's, Olive Garden - did it really matter where we ate? Who was handling our food? Where did it come from? E.coli was a definite possibility. The food arrives, dripping in fat and grease and overly salty sauces. I look around and the place is packed - every single table filled with parents and children and (being the judgemental jerk that I am) I can't help but think that there are a lot of people who eat here a lot. And then I think - it's no wonder the palate of America is ruined. The fat and salt has completely wiped out my taste buds - how do people eat in these places more than once in a lifetime? It's so grotesque.

But it was worth it! To see C.'s face as the waiters clapped and sang for her on her special day made me so happy. What a sweet girl - to be so young and innocent that a little thing like going to a restaurant can make you so happy. I take back everything I said. I love American chain restaurant food! I love it! I love it!



The most beautiful girl in the world with her ice cream sundae.


Can't forget about the cherry!


Forgive me my snobbery, but I can't help it. It took two days of nothing but berries and raw veggies to feel human again. And I can't help but feel queasy that we might have to do it again next year. Do you think C. would be happy with a mango lassi from an Indian restaurant?

Olympic Dreams

Well, the Summer Olympics are over, but we certainly enjoyed them here. In fact, please don't tell my kids it's over. Their little hearts will be broken. When my Dad was last in China, he brought the kids stuffed mascots and they absolutely fell in love with them.


G. calls them "the Beijings" and takes his just about everywhere.

Now of course we are not oblivious to the obvious political and human rights issues that the Olympics have brought up. Personally, I don't think the Olympics should have been awarded to China in the first place, but the Olympics is big business and China has a lot of money. And manpower. But watching the opening ceremonies, I was awestruck and childlike as I soaked in the spectacle of synchronization and computerized images. I was powerless to cast a critical eye on the might of China as it rained down upon us with thunderous drums and adorable little girls singing like sweet songbirds. Oh, wait, she was lipsynching...the real girl was behind the iron curtain, wishing she had perfect teeth and hair instead of the voice of an angel...but really, is that important? After all, thousands of men had been practicing for weeks, months even, working their hands to the bone as they drummed over and over until they performed perfectly. And others had worked 14 hours a day, 7 days a week, moving boxes up and down in unison until they had it right. Who cares if they were forced to wear diapers and weren't allowed to eat? The point is, it's the Olympics.

Frankly, these athletes have worked their entire lives (14 years in the case of some athletes) to reach this moment in time and who am I to say they don't deserve it. They need me, sitting on the couch in my sweatpants cheering them on as they pour out blood, sweat and tears. Spoon in one hand, Haagen-Daaz in the other, cookie crumbs between the folds of my oversized tshirt - I am there for them, sobbing over the agony of defeat and the victory of....how does that go again?

Anyway, that leads me to my point. The Carmella Olympics. We finally chose a theme for her 7th birthday party and we ran with it. Not literally of course.

I just feel the need to point out that the flag was finished at 1:00 a.m. the night before the party. I don't know why I need to point it out, but there it is.


The first game - the Bucket Brigade. Followed by the sack race.


And then the classic egg-on-a-spoon.

And an obstacle course. I delighted in having the kids eat a donut off a string at the end of it. Nothing like introducing my friends kids to the delights of processed chemical-filled Hostess donuts. Yum. (Just kidding. I'm completely ashamed of myself.)



The kids with their medals.



All in all, a successful party. Every year I say I'll never do it again, I must be some sort of a masochist because I was so wiped out after this one. But it was worth it. The kids are still talking about how much fun the games were, so I'm glad we had such a fun theme. And they didn't seem to mind marching in place until they were perfectly synchronized. haha.