Another Year, Another Party

So, I survived my pukers and poopers, and I think I'm ready to blog again...
Fall brings with it many traditions--football, school, gross germs, and of course, birthday parties. I know that my friends aren't going to be offended by this post because (haha!) I exacted revenge and invited them to E's party. But, I get ahead of myself.
First and foremost, yesterday was my baby's 7th birthday. And I totally forgot. He woke up and asked me what treats I was bringing to school, and instead of playing cool, I said, "treats? Why am I bringing treats today?" And in mid-question mark, mid syllable, it dawned on me. And like in the movies, everything turned to slow motion, and the word t--r---eeeeeee---aaaaa--tttt escaped from my mouth before I could shut it. So, I raced down to the grocery, snapped up some M&M cookies (thankfully, E has pre-baked taste) and delivered them to school in time for festivities.
Crap. Apparently the statute of limitations is 7 years. Seven years before I no longer go into full fledged crazy lady mode for my kids' birthdays.
I used to plan weeks in advance, order custom made invitations and monogrammed napkins, plan menus, and elevate my little celebrity to royal status. But, this year, I got crazy with the High Holy Days, I am looking ahead to our trip to Phoenix next week, and I didn't have a coinciding influx of family to gauge the countdown. And poor E's birthday totally snuck up on me. Also, S had Monday off of school, so my whole week was thrown off. And his birthday party is the week AFTER his actual birthday, which is a new development. And. And. I suck.
But, this brings me to the subject of birthday parties. Which I loathe. In Mobile, the parents don't drop the kids off and leave. Nooo, we get to stay and attempt to "visit" while being crawled on, interrupted by kids begging for tokens, listening to screaming kids and ringing, beeping arcade games. Whatever indoor playplace hell has become birthday central is my own personal misery. All I can think about is the Ebola (wearing microscopic party hats to be festive) leaving the giant slides, the arcade games, the museum exhibits and crawling on to my body, and infecting me with something snotty, achy, painy, and gross. Shiver.
Plus, it is a universal competition among parents to see who can sugar up the kids to the highest level and then send them home--totally amped on cake, frosting, and other sticky carbs--to break off into nuclear family unit torture sessions.
And, of course, birthday parties invariably coincide with soccer games, other birthday parties, Northwestern football games, my nap time, music lessons, baseball playoffs, my other nap time, or something else I'd rather be doing. (Which of course, is ANYTHING)
So, in short, I'd like to say that E's birthday party is this weekend. If you would like to come share in the "festivities" let me know. I'd be happy to invite you.