We are all grown up. Numero Uno turned three last weekend, Monkey boy turned 9 months that same week and I, mother of these two am well, maturing. Finally. I stuck to my guns and had a luau themed low-key production at our gym with just ten invited guests. I completely ignored the list of 18 (yes 18) kids that his teacher proffered and invited (discreetly) just his closest pals. Bad momma, I know. Nothing personal, but there is a recession, you know? And I did those parents a favor. Because who really wants to drag their child at the most inconvenient time (nap time) to yet another 3 year old bash? Exactly. Plus it was raining and hailing outside. My just styled hair went limp immediately and I did not even have a minute to apply lip gloss or change my shirt before the event. I arrived there 5 minutes after my first guests (darn those super-punctual parents) and the guest of honor arrived at least ten minutes after with his Daddy and Monkey boy. Half of our balloon arrangements got missing (it's a long story), the 'party coordinators' (Ha!) acted like they had never thrown a party for anyone before and it was each parent for themselves and their children. Hey, don't look at me lady, I paid to just show up, so there. It was a chaotic mix of scooter riding, bowling pin throwing, duckduckgoose playing three year old mess. My dear husband acted like the last place he wanted to be was at his son's party because -get this - he was tired. Well, bite me. The cake was pushed on its face by Numero Uno son and he blew out his candle before we even started singing happy birthday. But guess what? I did not freak out. I was not suicidal. I will even throw a big birthday party for Monkey Boys first. A really big, tacky, over the top one, with face painting and entertainers. See, we are all 'growed' up. :)
Like fine wine, pp
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