The Party Of All Parties- Until The Guest Of Honor Left

This past weekend was my daughter's Communion.  We planned a small party-35 people.  This is a definite scale-down from the parties of my older children where aunts, uncles, great-aunts, second cousins once-removed, and neighbors from our old neighborhood would be invited.  Anyone I could send an invite to, got one.  Now, it is just immediate family.  And, let me tell you, it was a necessary move.  I become an absolute crazy person when it comes to guests in my home.

For some reason, a party at my house brings out the worst in me.  It's like I forget who I am and I pretend that I am living a perfect life.  Perfectly clean bathrooms.  Perfectly clean kids' rooms.  Perfectly clean yard.  I run around for a week ahead of time, screaming like a maniac at anyone who will listen.  Get your cleats off the front porch!  Replace the toilet paper rolls when they run out!  Don't leave the wet towel on the floor-don't even use a towel, unless you have to- it will make another load of laundry and I don't have time for that! I notice anything that is broken in my house and I want it fixed pronto.  And by pronto, I mean before I even see that it is broken.  I want the carpets cleaned.  I want all my silverwear and glasswear to match (it's a mish-mosh of dollar store and Wedgewood in my cabinets).  I have guests coming, for Pete's sake!  For some reason, I assume that my guests are people who must live in perfectly organized worlds and they would be horrified if they got a glimpse of how the other half lives.

I had my daughter's party perfectly planned.  Great food: half-bought, half-made.  Nothing too complicated.  Had the house all clean.  Had the kids all dressed.  Had beautiful weather.  And then the party started.  Guess what the biggest hit at the party was?   The bucket of Ring Pops my kids got for Easter.  Did you notice my chicken salad croissants, I wanted to scream?  Guess what my guests saw when they entered the bathroom?  Chicken nuggets and chocolate chip cookies on the floor of the shower.  Yup, someone must have found a quiet place to eat.  And guess who wanted to leave the party? My Communion girl.  Turns out it is way cooler at her cousin's house where she can just play and not have to keep everything nice and neat.  Serves me right for trying to pull a Stepford moment. 

It's funny that no matter whose house you go to for a party, there is always some degree of stress involved for the party planner.  But the ones who give the best parties, are the ones that show us a glimpse into their real lives.  I went to a party once where each object in the house was dusted around, haphazardly.  You could see where the hostess had dusted and you could see where she didn't feel like picking up the lamp or the bowl to dust underneath.  It was awesome.  She did just enough to let us know she cared.  But, by doing a mediocre job of her dusting,  she taught me that there's more in life to making others think that you are perfect.  There are certainly more important things to do than clean for a party.

So, there are so many perks to be found in my new party-planning philosophy:  more time with my friends, less time spent cleaning, less nagging at my husband and the kids about nonsense.  The list goes on and on.  But, you, my friend, might pay the price for my new laid-back attitude.   You, as my guest, might find yourself with an empty toilet paper roll in my bathroom or a chicken nugget stuck to your foot.  (Sometimes, just sometimes, being a party maniac does have its benefits, doesn't it?)