I am a terrible party planner. I start out with good intentions, but as the big day draws closer, I develop a sort of party paralysis and become unable to do anything remotely related to the party itself. It's like being in college and knowing that you at least ought to start outlining that 30-page term paper, and then thinking Nah, I'll just take a nap instead. And then dust my bookshelves. And maybe alphabetize them ... by author's last name ... in genres.
If you're thinking that this approach causes a lot of unnecessary stress, you're right. G's birthday party is on Saturday, and predictably, I'm nowhere near done getting ready. We invited fourteen kids, including G's cousin: of those, five are definitely coming, two are definitely not coming, and the other seven are still unknown. Plates and cups and whatnot should be coming in from Birthday Express tomorrow, and G and I went out tonight and got craft stuff the kids can do, plus some little Chinese-takeout-style boxes that I'm going to stuff with candy. (We have no good place for a pinata, though people who have been to past parties may remember the year I dared to let a bunch of four-year-olds break one in my living room.) Still on my to-do list: go to the grocery store, do the baking, collect the materials I need for games, find someone who owns a teapot and will let me borrow it, get balloons blown up and streamers hung, and have a nervous breakdown.
Oh, wait. Maybe I should cross off that last item.
In other news, P and G are still fighting off coughs. G is at the stage where she's fine during the day, but starts coughing uncontrollably an hour or two after she goes to sleep. (I can hear her coughing as I type this.) P has been coughing day and night for two weeks. He's had to sleep in other rooms for the last few nights because the power of his cough would probably knock me out of the bed. Neither of them are sick anymore, but they're not happy either. I hope they're able to get past this last bit soon, especially P. The poor guy is worn out.