Tomorrow is Caroline’s birthday party. She probably won’t remember it since she’s only almost-two years old, but she is aware of what having a party means, who her friends are and that it’s her special day. “BIRT-DAY PAH-TEE!?!?!?” she says, “YAH PAH-TEE!” I’m hoping her head doesn’t literally explode from awesomeness when she sees the sheer volume of cookies available for her endless consumption.
I’m as on top of my 246 point to-do list as I can be at this point, and my self-induced stress level is hovering around a 3 on a scale of 1-10. At 10:30 on Saturday it will be at an 11, but that’s why I bought the BIG bottle of whipped cream vodka to put on the hot cocoa bar. Thank goodness my parents are here to help with everything. EVERYTHING. My dad has crossed more stuff off my “maybe someday we’ll do this” list than I’ve crossed out in months, including dealing with the basement freezer. I don’t even want to TELL you what happened to the basement freezer. But it’s OK now, and hopefully my nightmares will stop soon.
Besides the home repairs and shockingly clean kitchen, my parents are also kick-ass with the kids. Having them here gives me a tiny taste of what it’s like to live near family and I am wildly jealous of those of you who have grandparent babysitting services available all the time. My eyebrows would never look terrible again. I could get a lady doctor check-up without my children in the room. I might see a movie IN THE THEATER without it costing $120. The pitch black hours between 5 pm and 7 pm with no hope of my husband coming home might not seem so soul-suckingly dark.
Basically, I love my parents and I’m not letting them leave. There are a lot of ducks that still need to be fed, and doing it with Mormor and Bumpa is way more fun.
