No slumber at this party

Kid parties are a drain, on one's energy, on one's bank account, on one's patience. And yet, every year, we do it again, sometimes even twice. This year's birthday party was intended to be small and low key, but, the time-space continuum still having its way with me, we still needed to bake the cake and finish tidying up the house with only hours to go. I was glad for the house to be cleaner than it had been, survival having been the theme of the Spring, but when my daughter asked me when I was going to get around to clearing my things off the upstairs bathroom vanity since her guests were due to arrive in two hours, I can't say I was looking forward to her party, or, frankly, spending any more time with the guest of honor. Limits had been reached.

But unlike the city Parks and Rec department that canceled Thursday's games on account of some gathering dark clouds and some brief if intense showers, I resisted the urge to pick up the guest list and the cell phone and clear my weekend schedule once and for all. Not that I ever would have done that, but please, child of mine with the apparently broken arms who has lived with me for ten years but still cannot resist asking if I will pick up my hairbrush and make up bag sometime in the next 120 minutes. Who are you to doubt me so, my mother?

But the moment passed, and, in the end, I thoroughly enjoyed carting those silly girls around, talking with and teasing them, feeding them sugar, thwarting The Dreaded Alexa in her quest for party domination, and staying up late (but not nearly as late as they did) printing out pictures for their so-last-minute-but-didn't-look-it party favors and laying out a breakfast buffet worthy of at least a Days Inn. That's the beauty of ten. They're not nearly self-sufficient, but they're not self-conscious yet, either, and, by God, they can surely get up and feed themselves.

If a lot of laughter, a very few tears, an evacuation out of the Y skating rink for the first tornado warning of the season, a late-night run to the grocery store for even more sugar, and the tamest game of truth or dare ever make for a good birthday sleep over, then I think our 10-year-old came out okay. Even The Dreaded Alexa claimed to have had fun. And the bathroom, for the record, was pristine.