Friday night Braeden had his party, the one that wasn't a party but "just a couple of friends over." It ended up being nice though, great really.
For one thing, I missed most of it. On his way home from work, Adam called me and suggested Emma and I go to a movie during the party. He'd stay home and hold the fort down and keep Mark, enamored to a hero worship frenzy around all those teenage boys, contained. Really? Yes, please.
Emma and I made an escape--and ended up seeing a lot of people we knew at the theater which was fun. I loved sitting next to my girl. We put our heads together to whisper to each other during the previews and we both liked the movie, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. We laughed at all the same places.
The party was still in full swing when we got home and I loved the convivial atmosphere. These boys really and truly like each other and it's fun to have a big pile of shoes by the front door and a bunch of entertaining boys in the house. A few of the boys brought funny cards--I decreed to every mother I talked to that it was NOT a birthday party, no gifts. I always marvel at how in the world Braeden found friends that are just as quirky as he is. One boy's card, homemade, was filled with hilarious memes, political and satirical in nature. He had written a message on the card that was filled with inside jokes and political jokes and smart jokes and I thought, "Wow, I like this kid." Braeden, from the time he was a little boy, has been keyed into the political process and interested in that sort of thing and now he invites whole roomfuls of boys over that are the same way.
How did they all find each other?
Towards the end, I was chatting with a mother who was there to pick up her son--she's a teacher. It occurred to me that three of Braeden's good friends have mother's that are teachers and another one has a dad who's a middle school counselor. I get these people. So while the mother and I were chatting, Braeden sat down at the piano with a ring of his friends gathered around and he started playing the song, Prima Donna from Phantom of the Opera. He sang it in a really high falsetto because that boy will do anything to get a laugh (and it worked).
Over the weekend Adam and I had several great heart to heart conversations about our hopes and dreams. It's so nice to communicate, really communicate, and feel heard and feel like I hear him. I like that guy.
Freja came over and she and Emma sat at the piano for awhile then they went up to Emma's room and did whatever they have done for the past ten years they've been friends.
Braeden and Mark played with Legos. I feel grateful at such times because I know Braeden is being kind to Mark and humoring a little brother desperate for his big brother to shine some light his way. I also feel grateful because I know Braeden is enjoying himself too. He's not too grown up yet.
The big bonding, the Big Deal which everyone in Seattle bonded over, was the Seahawks game on Saturday. (Don't tell anyone because I sort of think it would be considered treason in Seattle but I didn't watch the game and didn't really care about the outcome. Don't hate me, Seattle.) Adam and our boys watched. From upstairs I could hear the agony and ecstasy of it all unfold, the cheering and the moaning and groaning. I heard Mark chirping questions about the game and Adam and Braeden's deeper voices answering. Because of my nonathletic influence, our kids aren't all that into sports and I think Adam feels that loss just a tiny bit. It made me happy to hear them gathered together, cheering with the rest of Seattle (the rest of Seattle, except me).
That night we celebrated Braeden's birthday with Grandma Geri at a Thai restaurant he loves and then came home for chocolate cake. I decided I should start a bakery and call it It Tastes Better Than It Looks. Sometimes lumpy and homely cakes are the most delicious kind.
|Rather than looking at his mother, who carried him for nine months and has kept him alive for seventeen years, he is looking at his sister, who makes him laugh. Whatever.|
Nothing too out of the ordinary. Nothing extravagant or complicated. It was just a nice weekend where we enjoyed our friends and each other. A good weekend for bonding.