Skip to main content

The tension builds...

...as we start the countdown to Mallory's Sixth Birthday Celebration. This Saturday, an unknown number of little girls (do people not understand what RSVP means?) will converge upon my house for an Event which will include a Craft (yes, me, organizing a craft, what was I thinking?), a Tea Party (with real tea! and hot chocolate for those who don't like tea! and lemonade for those who don't like either!), and Cake. Yikes! I'm not sure if I'm up for this. My biggest dilemma is -- are the parents going to stay? Because they don't have to and in fact I'd prefer that they don't because X number of little girls plus X number of their mothers times the number of my chairs in my house equals not enough. But some of these moms don't really know me -- I mean, all they know about me is that I'm Mallory's mom, so maybe they won't feel comfortable dropping off their kid and leaving. I'm not sure what to do about that although it would help if they would CALL ME AND TELL ME IF THEIR KID IS COMING OR NOT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

I'm a bit on edge about it, actually.

But it will all be fine, I'm sure. And, as Phoebe said just the other day, "Everyone likes birthdays!"

Comments

aimee said…
Most likely, the moms who don't know you will leave their girl and the moms that do know you will offer to stay. Weird logic, I know.

What a great mom you are!!
Anonymous said…
That sounds like so much fun. I don't think that a lot of people understand the concept between RSVP! Good luck and hope Mallory has a great day.

Mom

Popular posts from this blog

I ask you

This is my garden: Or rather, this is the patch of soil that was my garden last summer. It produced millions of tomatoes, dozens of green peppers, a handful of cucumbers, and two puny watermelons. I do not wish to repeat last summer's vegetable bounty, because most of said bounty went to waste. Nor, however, do I want this patch of soil to remain brown and bare throughout the summer, because it's unattractive. So, what do I plant here, in the shrubbery/flowery vein? Keep in mind that I do not have a green thumb. Also, I don't want to spend a lot of money. Also, this area is in full sun most of the day. And it's really hot. And sometimes we get rabbits. Any advice? To thank you in advance, I give you these goofy photos of my children and their homemade parfaits (which Mallory persisted in calling "specialinis").

It's what's for dinner

One of the things that I failed to appreciate about my mom until I left home is that she always made dinner (although I think we called it supper then), by which I mean, something hot, usually involving a vegetable. I don't remember my mom ever saying sheepishly to her hungry spouse and offspring, "I don't feel like cooking, how about a bowl of cereal?" I hate making dinner. Haaate it. It's my least favorite chore. It's not necessarily because I can't cook. I can usually manage to create something edible, although I have yet to perfect the science of getting, say, the chicken and the broccoli and the rice and the rolls all ready at the same time. (There are those among you who may be surprised that I make and serve broccoli. It's true! It's best when roasted: Toss with olive oil and salt, spread on a baking sheet, put in 400 degree oven for about 8 minutes. It's delicious! Delicious as broccoli can be, at least.) It's also not necessarily t...

the closet

Amy has challenged me to list 8 things that are hidden in the back of my closet. I try not to actually look to closely at the back of my closet, so these are my closest guesses: 1. At least three no-longer-needed diaper bags. 2. An outfit that I've been meaning to return to Land's End for at least six months now. 3. One of our wedding pictures, which has a broken frame which I keep meaning to replace. 4. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes. 5. Possibly a pair of fuzzy slippers. I miss those fuzzy slippers. Maybe I should brave the mess and go try to find them. 6. Baby blankets. 7. A few small toys that I meant to stick in the girls' Christmas stockings. Maybe next year. 8. And I'm guessing, a bunch of mismatched socks. My closet isn't very interesting, I'm afraid.