Pizza & Cupcakes, Wine & Cheese

wine and cheese
This past weekend, we hosted a birthday celebration for my youngest daughter's 12th birthday with 30 of her nearest and dearest friends. She was permitted to invite 30 girls and boys because I assumed half of them wouldn't be able to come. I mean, it's a Friday evening in September. High school football. Soccer practice. Flu shots. Busy times.

So naturally, because I counted on around 20 kids actually attending, not one single person declined the invitation. Then, when my older daughter asked if she could have a few friends over, too, I figured ... hey, we'll already have pizza and cupcakes, what's 5 or 6 more teens gonna hurt? So grand total, when you mix in the preschool set already at the park, I think there were like 87 kids there. Not exactly, but you get my point.

(Side note: before our guests started arriving, a loud and boisterous scuffle broke out amongst a handful of preschool boys as to the rules and regulations around a vampire attack. Callie said "how funny would it be if I ran down there and screamed 'Bad news! Vampires aren't real!' and I said "Not nearly as funny if you ran down there and screamed 'I'm a vampire!!!' and started biting them." I really like to encourage my children to raise their game at every opportunity.)

The good news is the party was at the park, and it's a fabulous group of kids (the ones we know, not the preschool vampire hunters) ... well-behaved, lovely manners, and at this age they blessedly require no entertainment by adults, so Jake and I were able to stay in the pavillion swatting at bees and musing about the bizarre lack of humidity while the kids wore themselves out.

However, by 8 p.m., I was exhausted. And starving. I'd been up since 6 a.m. gathering supplies and baking cupcakes (lie. I totally bought pre-made cupcakes) and cleaning and such, and pizza that takes only 2 minutes to cook makes me nervous, and somehow ALL of the bottled water was consumed before I got any, so revision: I was exhausted, starving AND dehydrated.

So naturally the most sensible thing to do was head to the grocery store, because I always make terrific, sound decisions when I'm in virtually the same state I'd be in if I'd been on a 12-hour trek through the wilderness. Except with fewer abrasions and bear sightings, and much cuter shoes.

But the trip was a good reminder on why you should never go shopping when not entirely in control of your good senses. Because I'm pretty sure I've never in my entire life come home from the store with only two bottles of wine, cranberry cheddar cheese and citrus-mango-pineapple juice (I drink maybe one glass of wine a week, I had no crackers upon which to eat the delightful cheese, and I do not even like nor drink juice.)

When I returned with my four items in tow, Jake said "what did you get at the store?" I'm sure he was hoping I'd had the forethought to grab something for breakfast the next morning.

I just laughed maniacally and said "no talking, please!"

Then I ate my crackerless cheese and drank a glass of wine and appreciated the fact that my kids have the sense to ignore me when I suggest they bite other children.


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