Covered In Tears And Ice Cream

My grandmother always used to say to me, "You and your big ideas." Generally, this was said in reference to some grandiose plan I'd concocted and only half way managed to finish. It's a well known fact that those are two of my biggest faults. I dream too big, too tall for the world of my own accomplishments. I start with this "big idea" and dive right in, only to abandon it somewhere around mile marker "what was I thinking?"
In times past I would arrive at a certain location, not quite the finishing line of my delusional destination, and call it quits. In the past few years I've worked hard at finishing what I've started. I want to look back with satisfaction and pride at a project completed, even if it is with what little sanity I began with shredded. And that is where I was Friday, somewhere caught between "what was I thinking?" and "this will work, even if we're both in tears and covered in ice cream".
For weeks now I've been planning Firstborn's third birthday party. I've hand made the invitations for the past two parties. It's something I really enjoy doing, but I usually end up frustrated and stressed by the time it's all said and done. Especially, after last year when I had to redo all the invite driving directions twice because of road closures due to Steeplechase and an unannounced monsoon season. In the end I ended up making phone calls.
This year, in an effort to keep things simple as my mother-in-law is always suggesting, a suggestion I'd be wise to adhere to more often, I decided to use the photo invitations from Costco. They're cheap, easy, and available online. Those, my friends, are some of my favorite words. They even had a cute template that would work well with what little bit of a theme I was going for, an ice cream party.
The idea was to have a backyard party and grill out. We'd serve cake and ice cream and let the kids decorate their own cones. I was going to make a cake shaped as an ice cream cone by baking one sheet cake and cutting a cone shape from it. Then I'd bake three dome shaped cakes, one for each of his three years, for the scoops of ice cream. Each cake would be a different flavor. Strawberry cake with strawberry icing, chocolate cake with chocolate icing, and vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. Cute, right? I'd assemble the cakes and look like Martha freakin' Stewart. *editor's note* There's bound to be an upcoming post on how comical that attempt will be. Stay tuned.
To make the invitations super cute I thought I'd take Firstborn's photo while he was eating a three scoop ice cream cone. Easy enough, right? *Sighs* In the back of my head I could faintly hear my grandmother saying that phrase that had plagued me since childhood.
The first attempt at getting that "perfect shot" was Friday morning. He and I left Secondborn with Hubby for morning naps. The plan was to run a few errands and end up at an ice cream parlor to take the pictures. I thought I would tip big to ensure that perfect looking cone and also in case of a big mess. It became clear to me as the morning wore on that Firstborn wasn't going to make it. With each stop we made he became increasingly whiny and non-compliant. Yet, I pressed on. I knew I was so close to that money shot that I could already picture it in my head. His big blue eyes sparkling, his smile so fresh on the invitation that you'd swear you could hear his giggles, and a triple scoop of frozen perfection posed mid air, just below its point of destination. Nothing, and I mean nothing was going to keep me from my perfect picture.
At last, done with errands we made our way twenty minutes in the opposite direction to a shopping center where I'd remembered seeing an ice cream parlor. Firstborn was quickly coming undone in the backseat. I looked at the clock. It was closing in on lunch time. We'd taken far longer on errands than I'd anticipated and now it was showing. I began talking up the big treat of having ice cream for lunch only to be met with opposition.
"I no want ice cweam. I not wan it!"
"You don't want ice cream? "
"NOOO!"
"Why not? It's so yummy. You love ice cream."
"NOOO!" Followed by whining.
I chose to ignore the rest. I knew once inside the ice cream parlor he'd change his mind. But, that's where we faced an even bigger problem than the screams of my child being held hostage and about to be forced to consume ice cream. The place had gone out of business.
Alright, quick change of plans. I can do this. I can do this. I kept telling myself as I was trying to get him back into his seat. In no way was he excited to be getting back into his carseat. After prying his rigid and clutching body off the side of the Mommymobile and back into his seat we did the only sensible thing we could do. I admitted temporary defeat and headed home. We would try again after a long, very long nap time.
While Firstborn was napping I made a new game plan. I would make a run for ice cream and we would do the shoot in our yard. It made sense. I'd have Hubby for backup. We'd be able to make another cone should we have a mishap. And he'd be much more comfortable in his own setting. Right?
Immediately upon waking I started talking up the ice cream treat. He got excited, as did I. This was going to work. I just knew it. I quickly made up one dandy of a triple decker ice cream cone and we headed to the front yard. I handed him the cone and readied my camera. The boy took one lick and held it out to me.
"I no wan it, Mama. I no wan it."
"What do you mean, you don't want it? It's so tasty. Go on. Give it another lick."
"Noooo. I done."
"Oh, no. You're not done. There's a lot left to lick."
"Here. You eat it."
"Mommy doesn't want it. You eat it."
"But, I don wan it! I don wan it, Mommy!"
"Oh, but you do. And Mommy really needs you to try just a bit more of it. Pretty please!"
"NO! I done. I done. I done."
"Please! I'll give you candy if you just eat a little bit."
Yes, I resorted to bribery. Don't judge. I was prepared to do whatever it took, even if it meant he and I were both covered in tears and ice cream.
In the end, it was me who ate the ice cream cone. It was me who was covered in tears and ice cream. I had this out of body experience where I looked down to see a crazed mama on the front lawn, camera in hand forcing her child to eat a triple decker ice cream cone. What had gotten into me?
We made our way to the backyard to play on the swing set and try to recover our good spirits. After a maximum of only five trips down the slide I heard the undeniable sounds of the ice cream truck making its way down our street. Oh, no. Here it comes, I thought. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited. And, sure enough there it was.
"Mama! I need ice cream!"