tree in the forest

it’s down to the wire
but let’s pretend that it’s not
except that it is

The Wee One has made a sacrifice, but he doesn’t know he has, so maybe it doesn’t count. I have RSVP’d no for a birthday party that’s tomorrow. It’s the first time we haven’t gone to a party we’ve been invited to. And this one’s gonna be a doozy – water slides, pony rides, the works. But I said we weren’t going and so we’re not, even though I’m feeling guilty about it now.

The thing is, we have so much to do this weekend… in anticipation of the baby… in keeping the house from being condemned by health inspectors… in taking care of the yard… in about a million other things. And my husband, lucky bastard that he is, is getting to take care of most this single-handedly because I have about three hours of energy a day and then my legs collapse in on themselves and I’m done.

What does this have to do with the party, you ask? Well, the only way for us to be able to go to the party would be for me to escort the Wee One alone, while Super Daddy stays home to do a bunch of stuff. But I just can’t do it. Not right now. Not when it’s 95 degrees outside. Not when I have to smell pony poop and listen to kids scream. Not when I won’t know any other mommies at the party and will end up standing alone in a corner of the yard, sweating into my drink.

So it’s a selfish thing, the RSVP-ing no. I know the Wee One would have a blast – or at least I think he would. I do wonder, though, if maybe I’m making that up, because I remember going to big blowout birthday parties as a kid and generally there’s crying and barfing and a bit of fun and that’s it. Nothing spectacular. But still, I feel bad. Not THAT bad, but a little bit bad.

Anyway, the Wee One’s birthday is coming up and yes, he will have a party, and no there won’t be ponies, and yes I’m worried about some kind of birthday party karma biting us in the ass. But I’m not THAT worried. I’m mostly worried about talking my crotch bones into allowing me to wander around Terra Toys and/or Toy Joy long enough to find some seriously bad ass birthday presents. But I think that’s another post.

So no birthday party tomorrow. But we will do laundry and try to turn our disastrously unorganized office into a nursery. If that doesn’t doesn’t sound like a party, I don’t know what does.

2 thoughts on “tree in the forest

  1. Be a good mama and take care of yourself. No missing party guilt. You’re tired, it’s hot, and you’re very pregnant.


  2. “because I remember going to big blowout birthday parties as a kid and generally there’s crying and barfing and a bit of fun and that’s it.”
    I was SO at those parties. The crying, the barfing, good lord, the memories, they hurt my eyes…
    Very good call on not going to the party. No question.


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