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.)