Kids Parties

Have you ever patted yourself on the back for doing something thoughtful only to have it go up in flames?

Yesterday, during the first hour of our freshly five-year-old’s birthday party, my husband set the oven on fire with a gluten-free pizza. Minutes before the guest list of 17+ arrived, I was frantically coloring a large poster board for “Pin-the-Horn on the Sisu” and gesturing with scissors.

I mean, who hasn’t screamed directions at anyone in earshot from the upstairs bathroom while dousing your toilet, sink, and hands in bleach?

“We’ll use the girls’ room for the coats!” I professed, tripping over the desk in the middle of the hallway- that has been on its way to the garage for the past nine months.

The cake was still undecorated and the food-that-wasn’t-smoking still not out of the Costco containers.

“Welcome! We’re so glad you’re here!”

I sent SOS signals to my brother, sniffed my armpits- I think, discreetly- and pep-talked myself as I passed a mirror.

“Get it, girl.”

As the second set of kids arrived, the Birthday Girl went upstairs to change.

I don’t remember too much else other than rambling off the games and food we had until everyone just about left. And that having an event that spanned three floors was such a terrible idea I made a mental note.

(I actually caught someone careening toward me down the steps before we cut the cake.)

When I came to, my sister’s face was the one that had been painted! And my brother had made all the adult friends.

Charles was at the piano, playing hymns while the remaining cousins chased and hit each other with balloons. The girls wrapped themselves in crepe paper. And I found the wine.

I might have been on my second deep sip when I’d already committed to throwing brunch for Christmas. ;)