Take One Down, Pass It Around

Michelle: So would you be willing to host the Beer Tasting adult outing?

Me: Sure! No problem! Happy to do it!

I know some of you have been holding your breath, wondering if I any secret party fouls would be revealed, but what happens at the Beer Tasting stays at the Beer Tasting...mostly.

Me: Michelle and Melissa want to know how many couples we'd be willing to have.

Scott: I don't know....25.

Me (in my head): No f-ing way!

Me (out loud): How about 20?

Me (to Michelle): 15 -20

It was settled on 18 couples, because it matched the closest party favor quantity. I love it when a plan comes together.

I had my normal day off on Wednesday, worked from home on Thursday (because there was no way I was going downtown on St. Patrick's Day), and took a vacation day on Friday. That should be plenty of time to get ready for people on Saturday.

Actually...it was.

I even screwed around a little on Friday while I was supposed to be out looking for an extra lamp for the living room (Ended up getting two. Curse you, Target!).

Melissa dropped off the beer in the afternoon. I cleaned out my entire kitchen refrigerator into the garage refrigerator (now aren't you glad we got that second fridge) and loaded 154 bottles/cans of Irish variety brew into my fridge.

Around midnight I gave up trying to write a verse of The Night that Paddy Murphy Died on my chalkboard and settled for a 12-word rhyme instead.

The Big Day

5:45 AM I know this does not surprise you, but Scott got up and ran 18 miles. I mean...why not?

6:45 AM Zoe got up because she had leaked through her pull up and her pajamas were soaked.

8:30 AM Scott comes back and informs me he watched the moon set on his run out and the sun rise on his run back. Look how much he accomplished by 8:30! I got all the beds made by 8:30! Yay, me.

Anyway...by the time the Kerbers and Altens show up for prep time we are actually ready. Scott was even out of the shower!

7:00 PM craziness starts.

Since the Turtles were previously engaged and the Leo's have had their fair share of grandkid watching recently, we decided to ask my soon-to-be step niece (also named Morgan) to come keep the girls occupied upstairs. (Girls have been told they are not allowed to come downstairs under penalty of death.) Only catch is that she has been at a volleyball tournament all day and literally arrives with the guests.

There is a bit of insanity around the initial arrival period - coats being taken, beers being given, babysitting instructions laid out. But luckily, Scott and I thought of the great idea to put a portable clothes rack on the second floor landing and Phil was in charge of that part. And yes, there is a very specific reason why I'm calling that out.

7:10 PM first beer is spilled. (I won't name names.)

7:20 PM ruckus on the landing. I look up to see Phil struggling because the clothes rack has given out under the weight. I watch helplessly as Phil sets his beer on the window ledge only to watch it slide right off. (Yeah, 90 year old houses aren't very level.)

I yell to Scott for towels and try to help hold up coats while wiping up beer. Scott arrives with some dishtowels and sets his beer on the window ledge to help. Not kidding. And if you are counting, that is beer number three spilled, twenty minutes in.

So coats get thrown on a bed like any other normal gathering at our house.

But that is actually the end of the mishaps. We grudgingly allow basketball to be turned on the big screen around 9:00 when it is clear several people will not be leaving the kitchen 12 inch-er unless we do.

So thanks to everyone who came and had fun! I don't think I've ever seen such great mingling, despite the fact that there were a lot of new faces. And thanks to the Melissa and Michelle for all their planning and organizing and taking my cocktail tables back (which I highly recommend renting for such events).

The award for last couple to leave goes to Lacie and Greg Ernst at 12:30 AM. Kerbers don't count because they are legally required to be the last ones to leave our parties.

And the babysitting award goes to "big" Morgan who I found curled up in the fetal position of the girls bedroom floor on Zoe's old crib mattress. Technically, Zoe was supposed to be on that mattress and Morgan in her bed, so I'm not sure who got talked into what.

Drunk award gets distributed to about 50% of the husbands, if not more. (And they make fun of our book club.)

The Month of Rain or What I've Been Doing for Two Weeks

Lisa: "I'm so sick of this rain. Remind me not to honeymoon at Niagara Falls?"
Mother: "So you'll go to Acapulco...it'll be nice." - Dirty Dancing

Sidebar: It is scary how many Dirty Dancing quotes I have in my brain. I practically gave Scott a monologue when we did the dance lesson with PTA.

* * *

Morgan: Mrs. Noble is my favorite teacher.
Mommy: Who is Mrs. Noble?
Morgan: She's the librarian.
Mommy: Why is she is your favorite?
Morgan: I don't know where I would be without her.

The best part is, the other night we stopped at the school to pick something up. Morgan was up ahead of me and she held a door for a teacher coming out. When I caught up, she giggled and whispered, "That's Mrs. Noble."

So I ran back out to catch her and got to thank her and tell her what Morgan had said. She came over and gave Morgan a hug, which just made her day! Teacher of the Year in my book. Morgan goes in there with pretty specific requests from whales to Chinese New Year (no joke), so I applaud her patience.

* * *

I think Zoe is related to Buddy the Elf. Every five minutes..."Mommy, what's your favorite color?"

It's gotten to the point that she asks the question and answers it in the same breath. "Mommy-what's-your-favorite-color-pink."

I might also note how much Scott loves to be asked this question.

* * *

Time for me to go home: I just tried to feed the ATM $1.50 in order to get a Coke. In case there was any confusion: ATMs do not dispense liquid refreshments.

* * *

Background: The kindergarten class has "mystery reader" days. On those days, a parent comes in to read to the class. The teacher gives the class clues that eventually narrow down the students to the child whose parent is standing in the hallway.

Back in August I signed up for my day. Every week since, Morgan has said, "Gee, I really hope you are going to be the next mystery reader."

I signed up for March 8...apparently. It's really all a blur. I got a reminder note last Friday and made plans to work from home on the following Monday.

I was probably a little overly excited to see her face when she realized I was finally going to be there. Over most of the weekend I kept thinking about which book I was going to take...keeping in mind the length and trying to keep it gender neutral instead of making the little boys suffer through Ballet Kitty.

I showed up at the school Monday morning and signed in by the office, walking giddily down the hallway. It was right before the classroom door that I started to doubt myself.

Suddenly, MARCH 8 flashed before my eyes. Monday was March 7...not March 8. No, I was sure that the note said Monday...but...didn't it say March 8, too?

I stood in the hallway wondering what to do. I couldn't pop my head in. Morgan would see me. I couldn't go back home to check the sheet, because what if I was there on the right day and I was missing when she came to look for me.

Finally, the co-teacher came out of the room for some reason and noticed me there biting my nails.

"Umm, I'm a day early, aren't I?"

Her laughter gave me my answer. Yes, I was an entire DAY early. That's pretty good for me. It should be noted that they did offer to switch the class around to accommodate me, but I felt too stupid and guilty.

I should also note that I dug the reminder letter out of the recycling and nowhere on that form was the word Monday like I had imagined. It simply said March 8. Period.

Ugh, I had absolutely no excuse to fall back on. But as Scarlett says, tomorrow is another day.

Author Note: It was definitely worth the drama to see her beaming face when she came out in the hall to find me.

* * *

My first attempt to participate in the Early Childhood PTA resale event.

My original plan was to systematically go through the house room by room - top to bottom - locating every infant item that I no longer used, thus creating cavernous pockets of space in my storage areas.

The weekend before the resale I managed to get up in the attic and rummage through enough stuff to get myself stuck up there when I tried to come down the ladder and it slid out from the wall.

Luckily Scott was home, so he came to reposition the ladder and then decided to take a gander at the attic situation as well. And that's when the ladder fell again. (My dad helpfully suggested we tie a rope to the ladder the next time. Thanks, Dad.)

Now, you may remember we did a basement purge a while back and threw anything we thought we would take to the resale into giant black Hefty bags that I would organize and clean in the weeks leading up to the sale.

So on Friday I hauled those hefty bags out to the Edge and through them in the back.

Anyway, with lots of help from Michelle (shout out), I did get things cleaned up and organized in my space that night, realizing one big thing...I needed to find more crap to sell. That night I hit the game and puzzle closet, the downstairs nook, my bathroom closet and some bookshelves. So the next morning I was a lot happier, until I came to the realization that I WAS SELLING ALL MY BABY STUFF!

But I'm over it...mostly. And I made a $285 profit. Well, as long as you don't count how much I bought all that shit for in the first place.