I might not be the mom that will bake from scratch for school functions (although, I have been known to do that), or the mom that makes cute little gift bags for school holiday parties (ah, wait, I’ve done that too). I try to do my share of the motherly duties and send him to school dressed and with (sometimes) combed hair. But I feel like I’ll end up being one of those lazy “fuck the PTA” parents if I’m not careful.
One thing I love love LOVE doing for my kids, is putting together things like birth announcements and party invitations. Specifically party invitations. And this year’s theme for LG is unicorns, because I found the cutest unicorn on a stock website and the creativity started rolling from there. But, I hate planning parties. It’s a source of anxiety for me. My perfectionist nature compels me to have everything look just right. I don’t know why I have such major OCD, especially when half of the time, my friends come over and my house is a complete shit hole of a mess, with toys everywhere, and the dog hair that I can’t keep on top of. The friends I see often, they know that half of the time, there’s jelly on a section of counter at any given time, no matter how often I wipe it up. But no matter what the circumstance is, I have entertaining anxiety. I run around the house like a frantic asshole, making sure things look presentable. After five years of marriage, you’d think that the Meester would recognize this by now, and just go into auto mode and just vacuum the stairs already. Add planning a party to the mix, and I’m still searching for the perfect blend of Adderall and Valium (or Meth and Percocet) to help me function and get things done to my standards, without a. losing my ever loving mind, and b. not chewing out every single member of my family.
Are we having a party for LG’s first, you ask? Why YES. We ARE having a first birthday party. I don’t have enough stress in my life, thank you very much.
And here’s the thing, I don’t really remember having many birthday parties growing up. I remember going to birthday parties, but I remember my fifth birthday party as being my last until I had my sweet 16. Maybe my mother has party anxiety too. But I don’t want my kids to grow up wishing they had parties like their friends. And really, we all know that you don’t remember your first birthday and LG wouldn’t give a shit either way, but having a May baby amongst all of my friends who have winter babies, I want to take full advantage of my backyard and being able to have a party outside before swamp ass season. I may not have the house layout for a party, but I do have a big deck and a huge yard. I figure all I have to do is get some party favors, throw some burgers on the grill and I’m good to go.
Except for this one tiny problem. We’re kind of ripping up our backyard. Our deck is too big and there’s some spring cleaning to be done. I didn’t realize that we were ripping up the deck until the Meester said something one morning, and I was like, “oh…ok, I guess we’re ripping up the deck.” Which is coming along nicely, and we’re getting things accomplished when we can, but in my mind I hear “DANGER WILL ROBINSON.” and “We can’t stop, it’s too dangerous. We have to slow down first.” Complete with alarm bells and all that. It’s another source of anxiety now to get it done and looking perfect before party day. And we still have to rip down a swingset and clean up the deck and are you reading this Meester? Because I wasn’t sure if my eyeballs rolling around in my head was quite giving you the picture of what was going on.
And naturally, we’ll get all of this done and it’ll rain that weekend.