Party Planning 101

I am two days away from our annual cookout. The one that has the ability to run screaming for my room, so I can sit in silence and rock back and forth, hoping all the people in my house would magically disappear.

Me this week? Hells no...

To be fair, that's only happened once. We had everyone we invited actually show up and it rained, so there were 50 people in my house and garage.

It wasn't pretty. Well, for me anyway. I'm pretty sure everyone had fun, because they keep coming back.

The invite list is a little smaller, but with a few last minute adds, we'll be up to 40 this year. I think I can handle that. Weather promises to be mid-80s and sunny. Otherwise, I guess our friends will end up hanging out with the clutter in the garage. Whatevs.

I make the same things every year and let guests bring a dish (learned after year two). That way I only have to worry about feeding the overnight guests a few extra meals. I have my simple menu list written out and the grocery list made.

We've been a little stressed in our casa lately, so I'm desperately trying a new approach to party planning - don't worry. It's not going well. Hubby is still trying to nail down treatment of his ulcer (ugh, don't ask. I hate doctors right now), so even when he isn't doubled over in pain, he's exhausted. That means the prep falls to little ole me.

Right. No stress there.

So I swear, I am only cleaning my bathrooms and any surfaces that will come in contact with food. I will run the sweeper for the benefit of my overnight guest with cat allergy and attempt to chisel some of the kid-related mess off my dining room table.

I will not dust.

I will not deep clean anything.

I will not suddenly decide that picture that I've always wanted to go in *that* spot on the wall needs to be there NOW or any other house decorating projects that I've ignored for the last 11 months.

I will not painstakingly sweep, mop and scrub my dining room and kitchen floors for my children to promptly spill something or for 40 people to be traipsing over with grass and whatnot on their shoes.

I will not try a brand new recipe or add to my minimalist contribution to the food feast.

I will find a box and gather up all the random clutter "stuff" and hide it in my closet until they all leave. So if you want to know what my house looks like every day, feel free to nose in my closet. That is where random miscellaneous crap goes to die.

At your own risk, of course. Who knows what might fall off a shelf onto your head. Probably whatever I hid there last year.

What kind of mom am I?

Purple Mom?
Chartreuse Mom?

I read a post the other day about being accepting of other moms. Stark.raving.mad.mommy hit the nail on the head and repeated something my friend has been telling me from the moment her daughter was born and we started comparing Mommy notes - you do what works for your family.

J and I could not be more different, but when you have as much history as we have, it doesn't matter. We love each other's quirks and pluses, and somehow, that's what makes our friendship strong.

I gave up trying to nurse my (unknown at the time) tongue-tied son after two hellish weeks of sleeplessness and three bouts of mastitis. I didn't even try with my second. She is still nursing her 15-month old (who is little and needs calories).

I thought cloth diapers went out of style in the 50's. J's daughter is the model green baby. She has tons of adorable diaper covers that make me a little jealous. Target's polka dots don't hold a candle to her collection.

I thought I would make some homemade baby food from what we grew in our garden. After trying both my two on jar food, neither one would take to the texture of my home-pureed veggies. I shared my knowledge with J, and she quickly learned what to try with her little one first.

She has started making bows and all kinds of girlie stuff and is almost making a business out of it. I can't remember to blog every day.

I have other mom friends who avoid sugar for their kids at all costs. Mine had 2 bowls of Fruit Loops for breakfast yesterday.

Three different friends buy organic milk. One switched after her husband made her watch a PBS documentary or something about a dairy farm. I don't want to drop that much money on 2 to 3 gallons of milk a week. I think the grocery budget might start smoking.

I am a little jealous of all of their convictions. I am slowly switching us over to healthier and more homemade food. Hubby thinks it should be strictly for cost reasons, as he watches my grocery budget like a hawk, but I would like to ensure that I know exactly what my kids are eating. And I do enjoy baking. And SOME cooking... I am coming around, I suppose.

He says we ate fill in the blank and we turned out fine. I say we're still young and don't know the long-term effects of whatever polysyllabic mumbo jumbo is in processed food. I say we should be smarter than generations that came before us. He agrees, but in a different way. He thinks I've been rubbing elbows with too many hippies and seen too many TV reports on childhood obesity. Maybe. But they're fun hippies.

We shall agree to disagree.

Well not really. I'm gonna keep trying to wear him down. I figure it may only take the next 50 years, but by then he won't be able to hear me anyway, so will it be victory or stalemate?

But the real question I have is, what kind of mom am I? My children are old enough that I don't feel like everyday is purely about survival. (But of course, there are always THOSE days...) So I can stop and think and put more effort towards certain things. I feel like I came more into my true self once I had two kids and "kinda" knew what I was doing. So I get the general mom-ness, but where to go from here?

All I know is that I have one loaf of store bought bread left, so the bread maker is coming back out tomorrow. I grab whole grain everything, especially when it's on sale, and slowly want to wean the kids off their daily sugary cereal habits. Since they would eat three or more bowls daily if I'd let them, that ought to make Hubby's budget happier.

But the moral of the story is, it doesn't matter if I'm a green, purple or brown mom. I love my children, and they will (come heck or high water) grow and mature and become amazing adults - because of and in spite of whatever choices I make as their mom.

Maybe then they can tell me what kind of mom I am.

What kind of mom are you?

The laundry fairy's twin sister?

My neighbor has admitted that the laundry fairy may have suffocated in her laundry room. 

Damn. So I guess that means I have to do it all myself. 

Until the laundry fairy's demise can be confirmed, I am enacting a new policy: If it smells clean, it is clean. If it's iffy, spray it with Febreeze. If it's dirty, don't plan on wearing it anytime soon.

A good friend is helping me rustle up some high school-aged babysitters for my monkeys, but in the meantime she bailed me out. I'm not sure who will be more ready for bedtime, her or my kids. She's a helpful empty-nester like that. 

I told her to stay away from my laundry. I know it's bad and my laundry room is frightening. I want her to respect me in the morning. And I'm not sure if any of Hubby's underwear has holes. And that's just sad. 

So in retribution, she cleaned up my kitchen and even LIT A CANDLE. Hubby raised an eyebrow as he looked around. I assured him it wasn't me. Dummy said without thinking, "Yeah I noticed."

Don't worry. He will pay for that one. 

I figured she stopped there, but oh no... Hubby and I went to the basement to watch basketball, I mean the State of the Union, I mean... uh... right. Anyhoo, I saw something I haven't seen in a long, long time. 

The carpet. 

The toy store yakkage that is normally covering every surface my little minions can reach - and some they can't - is neatly lined up against the wall. Like little angels were down here playing? Whuck? We may never play with those toys again. I may just have them come down here and sit on the floor to admire the neatness. 

Either that or my friend needs to move in. 

But not until I check our laundry for holes.

Are we there yet?

I have rotten luck when it comes to vehicles. And driving them. To anywhere.

Case in point:

I spent the weekend in America's Dairyland hanging out with one of my best friends and celebrating her baby's first birthday. I have been put to work each of her kid's birthdays because I can be helpful and she doesn't mind letting me. The first year it was keeping her company while she decorated the cake at midnight. This year, I was promoted to making the macaroni and cheese. Oh yeah, I'm big time now.

And did I mention it happened to fall when Hubby was gone on a business trip? He's missed the last 3 birthdays. I'm pretty sure there are some of my friend's family members who think he's imaginary. The running gag ain't so funny anymore.

ANYHOO...

The first time I tried to drive to their house solo I drove through construction in Chicago (I know, shocking, right?), I got a nail in my tire at 4 p.m. when all the shops are closing and had to drive 50 mph on the donut the rest of the way with 2 kids screaming in the back. 

It's a miracle I even talk to her anymore after that one.

The second birthday I did OK. Kids, vehicle and I all made it there and back in one piece. 

Friday I had no trouble getting through Chicago, there were no frantic emergency potty stops and we were happy to spend a long weekend at our destination.

Sunday afternoon when it was time to get going, I used the remote starter on the van to let it warm up while my friend's hubby helped me load my car with stuff and kids (only mine. I checked). We were about 5 minutes on the road when I got a text from Hubby, telling me his flight home was taking off. Then I noticed the only part of me getting warmer was in direct contact with the seat warmer. 

Uhh... 

I was almost to the highway and Nathaniel was complaining he was cold. I knew the next exit was about 20 miles down the road, so I pulled into a parking lot and broke out the cell phone. I called my friend. No answer. Called her hubby. He's not a car guy, really, so wasn't any help. I called my father-in-law, who was about 6 hours away but can diagnose any car issue in his sleep. After talking me in circles for a few minutes, I figured out me and my cold kids had to head back to my friend's. 

Luckily my friend parked my kids in front of 'toons, gave me a mug of steaming hot coffee and warm socks and called her dad to come help her hubby figure out what was going on.

Long story short, the heat came back and now I need to take the van in to figure out where I have a leak in something. That let an air bubble in. That stopped some fluid from going where it needed to be. 

Yeah, I know a thing or two about cars.... NOT

So needless to say we got home a lot later than I figured. Kids sacked out in the car and let me be vegetable mommy today. Five cups of coffee did nothing for me. Thank goodness for Handy Manny. I will attack laundry, grocery, and figuring out where to take the car tomorrow. 

And put a AAA membership on my Valentine's Day list.