Party time

Tomorrow is the party for Cassidy’s 10th birthday party. Her real birthday is on Sunday, but we are celebrating it tomorrow because that is the only time slot I could conceive of where I wouldn’t have to host a huge sleepover or pay huge amounts of money for a clown rental. Tomorrow afternoon we will go to one of the local parks where I have reserved, for free, the picnic tables. There we will gobble pizza, launch into a huge treasure hunt, eat cake and watch Cass as she rips into a pile of presents. Then we will have to entertain anywhere from six to fifteen ‘teen aged girls; there are few things that set me more on edge than this thought. Well, okay, there are many things that push me equally if not more so to the brink of instability. I am a neurotic freak and would benefit greatly from a long, quiet stay at some sort nervous disorder facility. At the top of my list, along with furry arachnids, the sounds of helicopters, the feel of anything at all toughing the ends of my fingertips, is the fear of girls and groups of girls. And the thought of hosting them at a party? Where they will look to me as their entertainment coordinator? They will demand things of me and expect me to cough up their needs. They will surely judge me and come to the understanding that Cass definitely bombed out in the mom department.
Cassidy begins planning her parties on April 23rd of every year. She actively maps out just how and where her next soiree will be. She makes lists over the summer and fall months about just who will and will not be so lucky as to receive an invitation to her next fete. For the most part I ignore these obsessive whims of hers, if I get involved I will start picturing the actual party and begin to itch all over my body at the mere thought of another bash. So far I have made and sent all of the invitations, gotten supplies for oodles of gift bags, wrapped gifts, planned out the cake of ALL cakes and planned out the general flow of the party. I have enough gift bags for the party invitees, Cass’s brothers, Loren’s two friends and a couple of extras. But if any extra kids come? They are S.O.L. And if it rains? No good. And if we run out of things do before the parents come? Bad. And if my mom and Matt have to be anywhere within 3 feet of eachother? Again, no good. And if Other Moms come along for fun? And if I have to make chit chat with them? And if one child is lactose intolerant and can’t eat pizza?