Holy adulting! I am way out of my comfort zone here. Yesterday was my son’s first birthday party and we hosted it in our home. Our daughter was born in January and our house is tiny, so we haven’t had her birthdays at the house. I was in way over my head.
Luckily I spent all day Saturday getting things ready so I was well prepared for the day. Until guests started to arrive. I was so nervous I had butterflies in my tummy for an hour or so.
But the party went pretty well! Jr scored tons of new clothes and toys, everyone ate and we didn’t run out of food, and the kids had a blast. It was really my first time hosting a party for that many people, and I think it actually went quite well. And grammie and papa took the kids home for the night, so we even got some mommy and daddy time when the party was over. All in all the day was a success, and I’ll gladly do it again (but not until next year!)
Tomorrow is my son’s first birthday party. My husband left Thursday night for graduation weekend at his alma mater, an event he hasn’t been able to attend in over 15 years. I was happy to have him go, he’s been stressed out lately and definitely needed a little man time. But it hasn’t been a cake walk since he left.
I’m busy trying to get the house and yard ready for guests, shopping for food, choosing everyone’s outfits, on top of my normal day to day stuff and two toddlers. Jr just started walking, and now he won’t stop. He’s already climbing on furniture.(must be a boy thing!) I’ve been managing surprisingly well, and I’m pretty darn proud of myself for it.
I have one more run to make after Jr wakes up from his nap, and have to finish mopping the kitchen and cleaning the bathroom, and then my chores will basically be finished. The best part of it all is that I’ve been too busy trying to get everything done that I haven’t really had time to be depressed. I’ve been talking to God the past few days and I think he’s been giving me strength. The power of prayer truly is incredible!
One major difference between my Gen-X’er husband and myself is our idea of what being on time means. Growing up my family was late for everything. I mean absolutely everything. We were always the last ones to arrive at a family get together, softball games, bowling league, etc. It was the running joke in my extended family.
Being late has never seemed like a big deal to me, but to my husband it is a huge faux pas. Now as an “adult” I know the difference between an important social function that I need to arrive on time to and one that I can be a little late to. Everything isn’t black and white, there’s gray areas, especially regarding etiquette in the 21st century. It’s not 1917 anymore, and society has relaxed a bit.
This past weekend the family was invited to a 2nd birthday party. Our kids don’t get a ton of socialization, so we decided to go. The party started at 2, and I had to shower before we went. (I’m a mom, it had been a day or two!) When I told my husband at quarter to 1 that I had to jump in the shower he went straight to panic mode. He got both the kids dressed and the diaper bag packed and the car loaded while I showered and got ready. We pulled out of the driveway at 1:30 (we had to stop for a gift still, we’re totally last minute!).
Now I know that a child’s 2nd birthday party is a huge deal to the parents and family. But it is not a serious, important social event that you have to be right on time for. There were plenty of people who showed up late or left early. Matter of fact, we were the first guests to show up, at 5 minutes til 2, and showed up the same time as the grandparents.
My husband and I don’t necessarily agree on everything, and obviously social etiquette is one of those things. I don’t think it would be a big deal to show up late, even an hour late to an event like this. But for my husband that is a serious social blunder. So I guess I’m not always late, but if it’s just me or me and the kids, we may let a few minutes slide.
I have been extremely depressed lately. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, exactly, but it’s gotten pretty bad this last week or so. I’m completely unmotivated to do anything, I haven’t worked out in 10 days, I’ve been eating like crap, not taking care of myself or the house. I could go on. The weather wasn’t particularly bad, until a couple days ago. It was actually really nice and felt like summer. It’s raining now, and I know the weather plays a huge part in my depression.
I know what I have to do to pull myself out of it, but I just can’t seem to force myself to do any of those things. It’s like a secret part of me deep down inside just wants me to continue to mope and wallow. I know that’s just my mental illness feeding itself, or even the devil trying to pull me further away from God. I was doing so well, praying and going to church regularly before this bout of depression set in. Being closer to God definitely makes me feel better, but I’ve strayed away from it, yet again.
It may have something to do with the anniversary of my sister’s death being last week. It’s always a difficult time for me, and this year was no different. I actually visited her at the cemetery for the first time in over 4 years. May 15th was the 11th anniversary of her passing, and the first time I took the kids to go see her.
I even postponed the kids doctor’s appointment they were supposed to go to yesterday. This is not the way I want to feel, and hopefully getting it out will help me to move past it in a healthy way. I have responsibilities that need taking care of this week, so I have to try to be something that resembles an adult. Jr’s first birthday party is this weekend, so I have to clean the house and get the yard ready for that, along with food and cake and ice cream. It seems like a daunting task from as far down as I feel right now, especially with taking care of two toddlers on top of it, but I know that I can use my coping skills, turn my thoughts around, and get it done.