To be the Queen of Chaos, you have to be a little warped.

The Birthday Curse

This is Ariel’s birthday month.  Every year we have a family party at our house, complete with grandparents and cousins both local and far-flung.  Every year she chooses what type of cake she wants me to make, while her dad and I figure out the particulars such as what time to invite guests to arrive and what kind of food to serve.  Every year we tidy up the yard, sift the debris out of the sandbox, and pull out the lawn toys and bubble juice.

And every year, it fucking rains.

My house is kind of odd.  I’m sure many people my age wouldn’t want to live in it.  It was conceived of as a summer cottage, so it’s not very spacious or modern.  It was built in the 60s, so it doesn’t have a big, airy open floor plan or high ceilings.  Still, it has a lovely water view, it was affordable back when the King and I were barely peasants, and we do technically all fit in it.  (We’re a little cramped, and the kids always have twice as much crap as we have storage, but no one’s sleeping on the lawn.  Yet.)  It’s not too overwhelming to clean either, which is nice.

Lemme tell you, though – it is no place to entertain 20 people.  We’re talking standing room only, scarfing down food from the plate you’ve precariously perched on the only available surface, children literally stepping on each other crowded.  It makes me hate my home, the place my three babies have been brought to from the hospital, the place where my dear old orange cat is buried, the place I feel safest.  That pisses me off.  It makes me wish we didn’t have to throw parties.  It really makes me resent planning for them.  But my girls deserve parties, and I do love watching the cousins together, so every year we try again.

So far, the five-day forecast says rain.  All week.  The jury seems to still be out on Saturday.  Some say showers, some say peeks of sun, some say clearing late in the day.  So I am, once again, going to use any spare energy I have begging for sun, visualizing the clouds blowing away into the distance, willing the grass to dry and the temperature to rise.

Because, damnit, it’s been a long few months of winter, literally and figuratively.  We deserve a sunny day.

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