In less than one month, I will open my home to oodles of people in honor of my biggest boy's graduation from high school.
While that all sounds highly thrilling and unbelievably exciting I've gotta level with you: A party planner I am NOT. I mean...how do you plan for food? How do know how many people will come to your "Open House"? Will anyone come? Will they ALL come? Who even invented open houses, anyway?
And, HAVE YOU SEEN PINTEREST? I mean COME ON.
Why's there always gotta be a mom out there who "out moms" us all and makes the rest of us mere mortals look like total schleps? Do we all have to eat off tin plates and sit on straw bales whilst we sip from apropos colored paper straws stuck in kitschy cute mason jar mugs?
What happened to the respect for the Solo cup? Did it die with What's-His-Name's catchy song? I mean, Red Solo cup, I WILL lift you up...and then I'll promptly toss you in the trash and throw you to the curb, all the while SUPER MOM over there is up to her elbows in dish water washing out all of those adorable little mason jars and tin plates.
AND PROBABLY LOOKING ADORABLE WHILE SHE DOES IT.
Too. Much. Pressure.
I mean, dudes. I still have to get my invites out! And then the photo boards. And the newspaper clippings that I was less than perfect on saving. And the cute little elementary snippets I've saved throughout the years. And then there's the cleaning. And the yard prep. And the set up. And the tent. OH MY GOSH. THE TENT.
She never called me back yet.
And tables? How many? Chairs? Firepits? Games? Activities?
Which leads me to this: Dearest Party Planners, you now have my utmost respect and adoration. (I don't know how you do it.)
If you need me I'll be hiding in the closet, with a stiff drink.