Saturday night (well, to be honest, all week) I was both.
I had a surprise party planned for Mike's 41st on Saturday night.
I had tried once before to surprise him with a party. No dice. His buddy, Peck, called the Saturday before the party was supposed to happen asking where the heck we were, he was here for his surprise party, where were we??? From then on, to me, he was no longer Peck. His new name? Wreck.
The pressure was on. I had promised something fun. Something great. Especially after his 40th was essentially ignored. A three week old Alice is a good excuse as any though.
He knew something was up. (I kept erasing the history on the computer so he wouldn't see "Mike's Surprise 40th birthday party (a year late)" pop up under my evite account. I think that might have clued him in.)
In order to get him to the Fickle Pickle (a restaurant in downtown Roswell) for the surprise, I had to weave a web of intricate, fantastic lies. (i.e. a private wine tasting, a night at the Ritz, decoy packed suitcases, pretend babysitters) Oh, it was involved.
And I am a terrible liar and I have NO poker face.
But, it worked! His mom, dad, and brother all came in from NY. My family, the girls, 25 or so friends were all there to celebrate his birthday. And it was great.
We walked into our "private wine tasting" to the curly haired 4 year old screaming surprise and running to hug her daddy. Who was shocked. And touched. And then ready to party.
Definitely worth a little bit of a tummy ache.
Thanks to everyone for coming, for keeping it a secret, to my mom and dad who decorated for me, Mike's family for making it so special, Drago for taking pictures, the Riepes for being big fat liars with me, the Roberts (Keith and Amy) for getting him out of the house on Saturday. You all rock.
Some shots of the night.
Heading out to the "wine tasting". Ella picked my flower for me.
My mom and dad, the girls, Mike and his mom
My mom, sister and the boss.
Joe and Mike's brother checking out one of the many mustachioed, shirtless pictures of Mike that were used as table centerpieces. (I am such a jerk. But, hey, you grow a mustache in '86, you pay the price in 2009, dude.)
Jill, Michelle and I. The first picture of us, together, that we are not sweating in. We clean up nicely, huh? ;)
Andrew doing one of the many imitations of previously mentioned mustachioed/shirtless pictures of a 20 year old Mike.