by mayberry on June 17, 2008
Something I even ranted about on my blog: Hosting a sales party.
[cowers in shame]
Apparently I have been living in suburbia too long because I finally succumbed. In my defense … I got suckered into this by going to a party at Jo’s teacher’s house. How you gonna say no to an invitation from your child’s teacher, for an event held just a few weeks before the end of the school year? And then, at that party, how you gonna be the fifth person in a row to pass on hosting your own party?
I know. You’re going to grow a spine, that’s how.
Maybe next time.
So tomorrow night it’s my turn to be the shill. I was frankly embarrassed to send out the invitations and I mostly limited them to other mothers from the kindergarten class. But now that the party’s almost here, I’m secretly excited. I love to have people over and I don’t get to do it enough. It helps that it’s MY event and therefore my husband will not be helping with the preparations (although he will be on kid duty). Every other time we have a party or even just invite another family over for a kids-included meal, he gets so panicky about how everything will look and taste and possibly be ready in time. He makes entertaining far more stressful than it needs to be.
When I’m running the show solo–like with this party, or when I host book club–I go for super easy and I do not worry for one second “what anyone will think” like he does. These are my friends and if I keep the wine flowing, they will not care that all the food I am serving is storebought. (When our book club read Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, I served rice crackers, edamame, and miscellaneous frozen dumplings and egg rolls–and everyone is still raving, especially the woman who’d never had edamame before that night. There is nothing easier than throwing a bag of soybeans into a pot of boiling water!)
So tomorrow, it’s wine, cheese, wine, crackers, wine, cookies, wine, and cheesecake, with a few corny games and catalogs on the side. It won’t be that awful. I promise.
Photo by Swamibu.
by mayberry on May 29, 2008
Happy birthday to the man of the house!
We celebrated with sushi (yes, we can get sushi in Mayberry. And it hasn’t killed us yet) and Star Wars (“Daddy! Open this one! It’s ALL the Star Wars in there!”) and homemade mint-chip ice cream. Our niece even called and played him the Star Wars theme on the piano over the phone, in an unintentionally thematic coda to the evening.
Many many happy returns sweetie. May the Force … well, you know.
by mayberry on April 9, 2008
(You are sick to death of hearing about my kids’ birthdays by now, I know. If you need a break I recommend a visit to my friend GHD.)
Last week’s birthday festivities were kicking my ass. Then came this week: The Birthday Hangover. My god, these children are beastly. They are defiant, rude, and aggressive. Sent-to-the-principal (her), screamed-through-three-naptimes-in-a-row (him), hitting, throwing, tantrumming naughty.
Please tell me this is just a reaction to the excesses of last week. Please tell me my sweet children will be coming back, after a firm application of regular routines and discipline. I am hoping desperately.
The situation brings out an argument discussion I’ve been having with Jeff lately, which is that too much–too many treats, too many presents, too many desserts, whatever–is just as bad as none at all. If you get candy every day (or every hour, it feels like), then what’s special about candy? If you get gifts once a week, how long before you expect them once a day?
He thinks I am totally overreacting, but I worry. I really do. I realize all this is a problem of privilege, but I want my children to appreciate all they’ve been blessed with. I want them to know that the reason they receive so many gifts is that there are so many people who love them. Even when they are being total stinkers.
P.S. She does look cute in her TwirlyGirl dress, though.
by mayberry on April 24, 2007
Last year, as I detailed exhaustively here, we held the kids’ birthday party at home and did almost everything ourselves. We bought a cake and some of the food, but we made our own decorations, created invitations, devised games and activities, and assembled goodie bags. It was exhausting, but really fun to see the kids enjoying themselves. Jeff and I were proud of how the event turned out.
This year, we decided to have the birthday bash at our local children’s museum, where Jeff volunteers. For about the same as we spent on last year’s home party, all we had to do was send invitations and then show up. Everything else was included, from cake to balloons to goodie bags to two college-student party helpers. The kids had a blast playing in the museum, and convened in the party room periodically for face-painting, cake, and presents.
For me? Not as fun. Trying to keep track of nearly 20 kids was tiring (too many; I know, I know). Some of the parents stayed for the whole party–I’d told them it was optional–which was a blessing. But rather than enjoying their company, I felt like I was on display while I ran around trying to figure out which kid I should be following. Some of the parents who didn’t stay seemed nervous about leaving their kids in my scatterbrained care–heartbreaking!
Especially during the gift-opening, I felt like a clueless guest instead of a participant. Another mom commandeered my camera and took pictures–for which I was grateful, but it still made me feel incompetent. I suggested that each gift-giver sit next to Jo while she opened that child’s present, which turned into a disaster–the party-helpers and another parent had to restore the order that I’d ruined.
I guess I’ll feel more and more like a spectator at these events as my kids grow older, but I hope we can strike a middle ground next year. Fun would be good. Casual would be good. Cake and margaritas will be essential. And how about inviting fewer kids and more of my friends? ‘Cause it’s all about me.
(Actually, it was all about her, and I think she had a good time. Which is what really counts.)
