Sunday, we had friends over to celebrate Ben's second birthday. Among the afternoon's highlights: Sabrina and other kids taught Ben the "bom bom bom" refrain of "Sweet Caroline," Max ate about one quarter of the cake (no joke), Ben tried our mini trampoline and gave out lots of kisses, and Max and his grandpa brought over a platter of sandwiches to our fire department. That night, as I finished cleaning up, I was on a bliss high. I really enjoy throwing parties, but I hardly do.
On weekends, we have fun, for sure. Once in a while, we have friends over for barbecues. But we also get caught up in a whirlwind of chores, activities and events for the kids, Max's longtime Saturday morning speech therapy, and oh yes, that most sacred of all things, Ben's naptime. Dave and I get out alone, but we are not so great at making plans with friends because sometimes, anything that takes even just a little extra legwork falls to the wayside.
Last year, we celebrated Max's bar mitzvah, which was one outstanding party. I'm planning Sabrina's for March. I love, love, love these events—how often do you have a whole lot of people you adore all gathered for a happy occasion? Not often enough, I thought as I put away dishes the other night. Usually, it's for those rare life milestones. Lately, though, with so much grim and unsettling news, I feel like we should be living it up a lot more often. There's nothing like a party with friends for having pure fun, and reminding you of how fortunate you are. Also: wine.
So I'm putting a few more things on my to-do list, and they are throw more dinner parties and also get a big crowd of people over for some random let's-celebrate-life blowout bash. I'm not sure when, but it's happening.