Duct tape. Check.
Garbage bags. Check.
Hand sanitizer. Check.
Permanent marker. Check.
Plates, napkins, cups, table clothes. Check.
Goodie bags. Check.
Extra treats in case of extra non-RSVP guests. Check.
Ok. So I have my anal retentive moments. I tend to favor the overly prepared approach. But I would hate to need something and send someone on a 15 minute dash to drive to the store and back without ever was missed.
Ice tea made and in the container. Check.
Lemonade made and in the container. Check.
Powdered lemonade. Check.
It’s May. In Tucson. Two gallons of lemonade just doesn’t seem like enough for a two-hour park party. Hmmm. Perhaps I should have agreed to water balloons. No. No. It would be a bad idea. All those balloon pieces that needed to be picked up. No.
Huge box of Cheez-its from Costco. Check.
A sliced up watermelon. Check.
Maybe I over prepared for food. There was only 9 RSVPs. That included siblings. Thank God for siblings.
Pizza. 9 kids. 10 adults. 4 extra-large pizzas. Check.
We piled out of the car an hour before the party. The grandma who was watching her granddaughter vacated the ramada with a “good luck” as I surveyed the piles of sand on the tables left by the adorable, dirty 3-year old girl. I had told the woman not to worry about it because I was sure my boys had and will do worse at playgrounds. The boys ran off down the hill to the playground with the command of “Watch Your Brother” ringing in their ears. I hoped The Voice was enough to instill the importance of the command without a threat or two. I checked the electrical outlets to find one broken. Damn. I set to work.
Oh crap. I forgot the ice chest.
Luckily I had reserves on stand-by. They were already bringing streamers and such because I couldn’t find the box that held my party supplies.
The bounce house arrived 30 minutes later. The guy surveyed the site. “I hope my cord is long enough.”
My brain went into hyper-drive. Ok. As soon as the ex gets here with the ice, water, and the desperately needed caffeine, I’ll send him off to the dollar store for a couple of buckets and a load of squirt guns. Maybe a couple of beach balls. Oh and those water balls! And-
“It’s long enough!”
Three hours later, with many more hands to clean up and pack up, with the last family sent off with a “no, we got it. Thank you for coming,” I surveyed the boys. All three were stained with sno-cone juice, pizza sauce, and lemonade and covered with dirt. The older two were digging into their goodie bags with tons of Star Wars theme goodies. Tornado A ran around chasing his Papi.
“Well, Tornado S. Did you like your party?”
“YEA!!!! Hey! Star Wars fruit snacks!”
Apparently he wasn’t heart-broken over the non-Star Wars bounce house, and he couldn’t read the “Happy Birthday” sign, so it was a success. How could it not be with an awesome Star Wars cake?
Then I looked at the giggling toddler in my dad’s arms as he carried Tornado A to the car. The completely stained and dirty toddler.
“He’s going to fall asleep in those clothes on the way home, isn’t he?”
“Yup. And probably that full diaper too,” my mom answered.
Yup. It was a good party. Too bad I didn’t bring a hose and extra clothes.