The Birthday Party

"Oh my," says Anna's friend's mother, standing in my front doorway, her eyes widening as she takes in the birthday-hat-wearing horde of seven-year-olds who are bounding over the furniture and chasing one another around the living room, squealing and giggling. "Aren't you brave!"

Here's a tip for any of you who are, or may someday become, the parents of young children: If your kid is popular at school, DO NOT INVITE THE WHOLE CLASS TO HER BIRTHDAY PARTY.

The birthday party drop-off is an awkward, but fairly precise pas de deux of etiquette. The guests' parents always offer to stay, realizing that, while the hosts probably didn't factor them into the cake and punch count, and might not relish having to make grown-up small talk in a 240 dB environment, a little additional crowd control would probably be helpful. But the hosts are obligated to give an offhand laugh and a carefree wave of the hand, saying, "Oh no - of course you're more than welcome, we'd love to have you; but if you'd like to drop him off and come back that's fine too!"

Pay no heed to the terror in their eyes, that look that says, please. Please, take me with you. You can't leave me like this.

At this point, 67.2% of birthday guest parents - after the mandatory "Are you quite sure it's all right to just leave her?" - will go ahead and leave, feeling slightly guilty, but heaving a huge internal sigh of relief that they don't have to sit through three hours of sugar-fueled Armageddon. The remaining 32.8% (I looked it up) will stay, compelled by social conscience, or concern for the well-being of their offspring - these are generally the parents of the shyer kids. Maybe they're worried that their children won't be able to handle a house full of rambunctious schoolmates. Or possibly they just have never imagined - who could? - quite how loud a small house crammed with second-graders can be.

Helpers are very good to have, preferably ones you know well. At my house there are two teenagers to assist with the festivities: talk about your forward thinking! Katie baked and decorated the birthday cake, to begin with. And she's great with the little kids, leading them in Duck-Duck-Goose, carrying plates and forks, serving punch, and ensuring that the destruction of the pinata doesn't result in massive head trauma. Well, for any of the party guests, at least. The pinata might not feel so great. Meanwhile, Eric chips in by making sure none of Anna's friends lack somebody to play with on her new Wii.

Still, you wouldn't believe how long just three hours can last. Last year, when Anna was in kindergarten, Katie volunteered to fill out the invitations. A born party girl, she filled in the time on several as "2pm - ???" before we caught and stopped her.

But the party was a grand success. Anna's eyes are shining and she declares this was the best birthday ever. And that alone makes it all worth it. Well, that, and that Katie plopped down next to me on the couch after the last party guest had left, and said, "You know, Mom, I'm not so sure I ever want kids."

Another triumphant moment in parenting!

Complete Chaos, Outdoors and In

Lately I seem to want to write a lot of sappy, tender, sentimental stuff. Maybe it's those PMS mints Billy sent me. I'll spare you, and post some photos instead - you can thank me later.

Romeo knows he's not supposed to be on the table, forget about in a shoe box. He's cold busted!


I took this picture about 5pm today in the backyard. About half an hour earlier there was a sudden, abrupt drumming of rain on the tin roof, and afterwards I was admiring the way the budding trees stood out against the cloudy sky. The photo doesn't capture it but I do like the way it almost looks as if I'd taken it in black and white.


In fact I've been trying to figure out what to do with this backyard. It's wild and foresty, and I like it much better than I would a neatly clipped carpet of grass. The wild onions have little white blossoms at the top, and something else is small and lacy and profuse and pink. There are also, maybe morning glories? They had little pale purple blossoms on them this morning but don't now. They have broad overlapping grassy leaf blades. There's a small, but wonderfully twisty live oak right in the center of the backyard. There's also a low, decayed, completely overgrown stone wall running along the center, the width of the backyard, dividing off the uphill from the downhill half. It crosses the fence and closes off a part of the neighbor's yard, as well. Some long-ago gardener must have had a perfect profusion of shrubs and flowers on the uphill half, perhaps with a small lawn on the lower part. What was once a large patio is now the addition of the master bedroom, leaving only a narrow hallway to the outdoors by way of a porch.

It probably helps if you squint.

I've been studying Annie in Austin's beautiful gardening blog particularly closely lately, trying to get inspiration, but it's kind of like reading the Kama Sutra when you haven't hit puberty yet.

Or kind of like grasping the concept that tables are not for sleeping on, no matter how many shoeboxes and grocery bags your idiot humans have left lying around on top of them. Maybe the cats have a point after all.