So Friday night was our friend's 40th. It was a wonderful party, full of fabulous people, and the never ending glass of wine. It was like magic. I would drink, toast, sip, but it would always be full. Amazing. And since I had a "driver" on this particular night which is very rare, I continued to indulge in the magical, bottomless wine goblet.
As the night wound down (or up, depending if you stayed later than I did) I arrived home fumbling with door keys at 11:30pm. And has I tried to put my car key in the house door, I silently prayed that the streamers had already been hung up, the cake had been assembled and frosted, balloons blown up, and all the presents had arrived and been wrapped---for tomorrow our "baby" was 6.
Well, not really being a religious individual, it was painfully obvious that my prayers were to go unanswered.
As the entryway circled around me, I visually made out not one single streamer. And as the door jam supported my passage into the kitchen, I also saw that there was nary an assembled cake.
I grabbed the Gorilla Tape and stretched a long piece (sticky-side up) across the counter top and frantically ripped strips of streamers to create a "birthday curtain" for the bottom of the stairs. Sticking it to the ceiling, I heard your groggy voice from the couch, "Stop using that tape. It takes the finish off, and it's expensive."
"Okay," I said louder than I needed to pressing the tape on firmly and then accidentally and confidently skipping a stair down to the floor and with as much regard for your comment as a teenager said, "I won't do it again." (Let me apologize in advance, for our daughter's teen years).
I then stood in the dark kitchen with a headlamp and began to assemble a two-tiered rainbow battered, out-of-my-league even if there as light and I was sober, cake. It was to be a magic portal for the new Skylander Giant that was supposed to be here. But nothing was here. The floods had triumphed over UPS and now a little six-year old would not only not have his presents, but he would especially not have the only thing that could save this cake.
As the cake crumbled into pieces, I slapped on gross amounts of icing to act as superglue in this giant mystical rainbow mound of sugar. I then stuck brownie bites all around the side. Surely, brownie bites had to be worth some points.
I stuck the cake in the microwave, for safe-keeping, strung up balloons, and went to bed, feeling like the worst mom on the planet. Fortunately he would have a gift from his great aunt, and some cards to open, and hopefully UPS would be there in the morning.
7am came really early. And as I longed to sleep in or vomit, I just lay there berating myself for poor decisions.We did our best to stall until 8:30, crossing our fingers that UPS would save the day. But they would not save the day, because they would now not deliver until Monday. And we couldn't pick up the package either.
Our six year old, bounded down the stairs, blew through the streamers, and said, "One present?" And before we could explain and apologize, said, "Well, that's okay. It looks pretty cool. Oh! and there are cards!"
It was all I could do to act like this was an awesome party. It was so beneath my expectations, and plans, and yet...he was genuinely happy! He had to be the healthiest member of our family at this point---he honestly projected his surprise and disappointment, and then overcame it quickly and had a blast. I had to wonder if he was just a "lesson" to behold at that point, or if he had been let down so many times, that like and orphan child with no shoes, he was just happy it was warm outside.
So that I didn't cry in all my hung-overness, I chose to believe the former. And stood in awe of his character.
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