procrastination

I am procrastinating badly at the moment.
See, life has been going on full speed ahead, pot holes included. Fun times for another post if I'm up to it. It has left me in denial, drained, blue as a midnight sky, and overindulgent in the chocolate of the house.

But in the midst of that, I have a little girl who is having a party tomorrow for her 4th birthday. The first real party she's had of her own with full blown excitement and sparkle in her eyes. She has asked me for weeks when it would be.

My dirty little secret? I HATE KID'S PARTIES.
Nothing stresses me out quite like figuring out how to plan them, who to invite, and what to do at them.

I know, mom of the year. I loathe them deeply. They are the bane of my existence and I now have three kids with birthdays three months in a row. No reprieve whatsoever. Now, let me give you a word picture of my house:

I am sitting at the kitchen table with my wishy-washy laptop that's a cold weather friend - regularly freezes on me. A mere ten feet away, my sweet Baby J is gleefully basking in the pots and pans and lids strewn around the floor near him; there is also a container with large alphabet letters - perhaps he had soup in mind? My kitchen counters stay piled with the million and one things I need to finish sorting, tossing, filing, mailing, finding homes for.... (I will insert a kudos for me: the dish washer is running and four chocolate cakes from scratch are now cooled on the counter - made with the help of Miss C.)

Through the door straight ahead I see the living room where the DVD is still playing Rolie Polie Olie for the millionth time since it keeps starting itself over. And over. The floor in there was a light case of baby toys and once-folded-clean-laundry that Baby J pulled down, but now that the older kids are messing around, the mess is a bit muckier. (I have refolded clothes so many times I could cry...or maybe that's not really why, but you get the point. They are always on the floor before I can get the job finished.)

Next to that is the dining room turned playroom - the one we've never-no-not-even-once-eaten-in - and Baby J and Miss C have turned it upside down this week while I worried about clean bathrooms and birthday cakes and phone calls from the school and little things such as that. In there, the bins of toys are emptied, the easel has been tipped and therefore moved to an inconvenient nook of the room, the hamster is on the table in dire need of fresh bedding for his cage, and the things that had not yet been reorganized a couple of weeks ago still mightily adorn the top of the "shelves", aka baby changing table turned shelf.

My husband has just called to say he's still working. He was barely able to talk so intent on work was he. As it's been most of the week. I should be thankful for the work. I am. But it's really so much more than that.

My week is not over. I have a house to clean, three kids to feed and a weeping soul. I don't think I'll ask what that crash was in the other room. I really don't want to know. I swore after last year's joint party at Build-A-Bear for the two older ones that I'd never have a birthday party at home again. I am a moron. I cannot believe I planned this. I thought it would be simple enough...only 3 friends (plus at least one parent for each kid, my parents and my brother - not so simple).

I do not want to cook dinner.
I do not know what I am going to cook for dinner. Eggs again? Perhaps.
I do not want a party in my house tomorrow.
I do not want to deal with people, talk to people, be sociable, be nice, be polite.
I do not want to cope with any one's "issues", namely my children's, at the moment.

I want to go to bed.
I want my husband to come home and let me crawl under the covers while he fixes dinner and cleans the house and figures out where the yards and yards of paper chain will be hung.
I want him to remember that Little B especially wanted balloons for his sister as a surprise.
I want him to watch Little B's magic show rehearsal one more time before he performs it at her party - another special thing for his sister.
I want to escape.

And so I have face-booked, read blogs and posted this. And now it's 6pm.
Yeah, they are so having eggs and leftover pancakes.
Except Baby J can't have eggs. He'll have to have another pancake. They have chocolate chips in them.


Sigh.