Celebabybration

Scene: Approximately one hour before guests are scheduled to arrive to our party, Simon is bustling around the house like an adorable animated chipmunk while I lay on the couch clutching my back in agony because baking cookies the night before was just that strenuous and also because party! ack! why did I agree to this again?

Simon: I love that we're having a baby and a party!

Me: Funny, I was just thinking about how much I HATE throwing parties. Too much work. Too much stress. (The baby's still okay with me, though.)

I can't help it. Parties give me fits, and the most fit-inducing party of them all is of course the party taking place in my house, with my stuff, with my friends. Much like my fear of flying, most of my anxiety is irrational (sure, the plane could have mechanical issues and crash, and my house could burn down if a lit candle gets too close to the liquor cabinet), but despite a history of one plane ride/party after another going off with nary a hint of complete system failure, my worst-case-scenario brain nevertheless can't help going to That Place.

Simon LOVES flying, and several years ago he made a deal with me that he would give up some of his flight-related delight if I would meet him in the middle and relinquish some of my white-knuckle terror. Now during takeoff he always makes a point to say what a non-exhilarating non-event it is to accelerate until the ground drops away and we're flying, flying!, ho hum. I smile and ho hum back and by golly it works. These days I can get on the plane sans drugs and spend my time reading a magazine instead of wondering what kinds of obituaries will be written for my fellow passengers when we all plummet to our deaths. Maybe if I can make Simon love party planning a little less I'll eventually be able to enjoy it a little more as well, or at least not lose so much sleep and hair over it.

As with flying, though, it will certainly help to have another successful party under my belt. We had the perfect amount of food (i.e., we were not left with half of a gigantic chocolate cake that I would be forced to consume myself out of frugality), and friends came from hither and yon, from far and farther, and although I always stress out way too much about who's coming and whether they'll get along with everyone else (which has everything to do with me and nothing to do with our friends), it always turns out okay. I always have fun and I always lose more sleep thinking about what a great time I had than I ever did worrying about the party beforehand.

On Sunday night after the party, for instance, I was up between 3 and 5 a.m. composing thank you notes in my head and wondering if there's an affordable way to send all of our guests singing, dancing telegrams as a way to ensure that I make my singing, dancing, jazz-handsy gratitude fully apparent. The gifts, oh the gifts!, were amazing and thoughtful and creative and personal, but the best part really was having so many of our favorite people all together, and knowing they're almost as excited about meeting the baby as we are. There were a handful of little kids out on our tire swing, a toddler digging around in the garden, a baby nursing in our nursery, and so many good friends in every room, each of them going at a big slice of chocolate cake. I didn't get to spend as much time with everyone as I wanted to, but then that's the nature of the beast; at least I have an amazing fellow host in Simon as well as complete faith that our friends will be as charming and engaging to everyone else as they always are to us. (Special mention here goes to Beck, whose blog I started reading back in about 2002 and who only lives fifty miles away and yet we'd never met before Sunday. She's lovely (and tall!) in all her pregnant glory, and I was tickled as all get-out to see her walking up the pathway to our front porch. God, I love the internet!)

So, aside from the small matter of Linus mauling Nora Lea, the party was a hit. (He jumped on her head! And scratched her face! I'm horrified but not entirely surprised, but still horrified horrified horrified!) The few pictures we took during the party are here, and photos of the almost-finished nursery are in this set. Now the only thing left to do? HAVE A BABY. Sixish weeks to go and counting...

wrote Leah at 6:37 AM | Comments (7)