Party Pooped

Whenever I try to do something nice and it blows up in my face, my husband has a mantra he repeats, “no good deed goes unpunished.” I always thought it was such a negative, cynical viewpoint but I am starting to see that he speaks the truth.

I am involved in planning two parties in a very short span of time. The motivation for my being involved in planning both these parties is my desire to make the guests of honor feel special and loved. Have you ever tried to plan a party with other people’s involvement? The date is never right, the time is never convenient, the place is too small and the food isn’t good enough.

Then, there is the battle of getting people to RSVP. You get a lot of “non-committal” replies. The: “I’ll try and stop by, but I can’t promise anything.” There is also the chasing down of the non-repliers. So many people think a party just magically appears with enough food to accommodate them, even if they never actually tell you they will be attending. Finally, there are the “last minute” repliers. They call you on the day of the party and let you know they will be coming. Thanks for that heads up buddy, it gives me a chance to roll out the red carpet for you. Would you like trumpets to announce your arrival too?

It is amazing that such a happy occasion can lead me to become so angry and vitriolic in my feelings. It’s a party! I should be laughing, happy, filled with anticipation, eager to see how pleased the guest of honors will be when feted by their friends. Instead, I become a grumbling, bitter, overwhelmed person who snaps at the 6th person who says “Are you sure Sunday at noon is the best time for a barbeque? Listen, if you think you can plan this better, why don’t you step up to the plate and do it yourself? Funny, the ones who complain to me are generally the last people to volunteer to help me with anything.

However, the day of the party will roll around and people will have a great time. The guests of honor will be so thrilled at the gesture and suddenly it all seems worth it. Looking at their smiling faces, you think, “This is what I did it for, that joy that comes from making someone else happy.” You forget all about the struggles you faced to get to this point and you think, “I guess maybe I overreacted about the difficulties after all.” That is until someone complains that the soda is too warm, another that you don’t have enough ice and yet another that the chicken is too cold.

Josh’s first birthday is in about 6 months and, with how I am feeling about parties these days, maybe we’ll just buy him a pony.