What a weekend! First there was the big sixteenth birthday party for the oldest kiddo. She hasn't had an actual birthday party per se since she was in elementary school. So we opted for the blowout of her dreams. Kind of. Sort of. Almost. There was disc jockey who came with his lights and smoke machine and every song known to the universe. That was all very cool.
And there was cake and the obligatory ice cream. Which no birthday can be without. What we didn't have was the throng of friends. BUT and I say BUT loudly because the friends we did have were true and good friends indeed. Right down to the smallest princess cousin who entertained all by oogling the bright lights and smiling her beautiful baby smile at everyone. We were also entertained by the crazy monkey girl, who is all a kindergarten person should be and more. She hand jived and cha cha'ed with the best. Of course she has the dancing queen mommy and cousin who were shaking their things and throwing down some wicked moves.
Sadly though, my good time was shadowed, as it always is by the niggling feeling that somehow what I am doing is not good enough. That there should be more. I didn't make the tropical fizzy punch with the floating ice rings, didn't spend the time carving the adorable little crudites for the snacking dancers, and --Lord help me! I did not have the matching table linens and cutlery and serving pieces. So once again, I fail at the whole Martha Stewart/June Cleaver/Marion Cunningham thing. My children will undoubtably require years of therapy where they will spend countless dollars explaining to some shrinkette how their mother never loved them enough because she didn't carve radishes into rosettes so their friends could have cute healthy snacks while they partied.
All good things must come to an end though. The party was over at 9:30 and even though all of the other sidewalks in town had long since been rolled up, we only went home because the evil agents of parental control called all of the partiers home. (Cursed cellular leashes!) Just when the Geek Love was heating up to a fever pitch the voice of paternal authority called Geek boy home. And Romeo took his Juliet home. Biff the friendly purple Ritalin boy lumbered off into the night and the rest of us packed up our balloons and went home.
I almost relaxed long enough to have fun myself. I even only cringed slightly when another adult human being touched me. I came home and was entertained by YouTube videos then I went to bed.
I don't know if every parent thinks that they are not doing enough for their children or if it is only my feeling that I have somehow brought these hostages to fortune into the world and it is my responsiblity to make their lives seamless and perfect. No, not perfect because that is impossible. But I get these visions in my minds eye as to how things are supposed to be. And when they don't turn out as they should---I spend hours agonizing over the outcome.