If I could use two words to describe this past weekend, it would be pandemonium and slothful. Yes, "slothful" is a word. How amazing is that? Just when you thought that those adorable, lazy, little bastards couldn't get any better. Now, they have provided an adjective that you can use that is insulting but, also, darling. "Honey, stop being so slothful!" Sloths are the best.
Anyhow, we had my youngest's birthday party, on the weekend, hence the pandemonium. I like to believe that I am a pretty organized person. I mean, my anxiety is my overbearing and relentless accountability coach. Did everyone get their invite? How many kids are there? You should count again. Maybe write the names down, to be sure? Where are you going to get the food? When are you going to get the food? Is there going to be enough food? Enough wine? Is there ever enough wine? Make a list. Make several lists. Sigh. I actually love the initial planning part - deciding on a theme and planning a menu. It's when this officious bitch comes in, with all of her questions, demands and second-guessing, that I start to get a bit obsessive. Anxiety, not the best.
Even with all of the planning, we still weren't totally ready, when everyone started to show up for the party. Thankfully, this was a family party. I couldn't even hug our first few guests because I was rolling hot dog pieces, in little crescent roll squares. They are like pigs in a blanket but the elementary school remix. So, I had wiener fingers. And, obviously, that is what I hear myself telling people. "Sorry, I can't hug you right now, I have wiener fingers." "No, no, I don't need any help, thanks. Just finishing off my wieners." Yep. When I go off plan, I like to make sure I say inappropriate things and act as awkward, as possible.
Then, I look over at my birthday boy and he does not look right. His cheeks are flushed and he is staring at everyone with glassy eyes. I see my sister put her hand on his forehead and then she mouths the words - he feels warm. Shit. I should have realized that something was up, when he was in and out of cat naps all morning. I mean, what 3 year old, is calm enough to sit still for five minutes, let alone have a nap, on the day of their birthday party? Denial told me it was because he had been up late the night before and up early, that morning. I rush to get an Advil, saying hello and hugging the guests, on my way. I get back to my little and touch his beautiful face. Fire. FFS. This is definitely a parenting fail. I give him the pill and some water and hope that he will feel well enough, to make it through the rest of his party.
And he did. Because this kid is a beast. He ran and played, an opened his presents and blew out his candle. The fires of hell fever didn't return , until everyone had left. We settled our birthday warrior and kept a close eye on him, throughout the night. As it turns out, we did run out of wine. But, hey, that is a sign of a successful party, right?
Sunday was Mother's Day. Thank goodness! Enter lazy, tree dweller mammal, type behaviour. The thing that I love most about Mother's Day, other than the amazing homemade gifts that my littles make for me, is the coffee in bed. That is my JAM. I have always been a better person, after that first cup. In fact, before I had kids, my husband and family would not talk to me, in the morning, before I had had that. But then you have kids, and they have no time for your shit. So, when I get to have a quiet, cup of coffee, in bed, it is the best!!!! We spent the rest of the day watching movies, snuggling and napping. It was the perfect slothful end, to the pandemonium of the day before.
Does Mommy need to lose her shit?
Not this week.
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