Those who know me know that I traditionally love to host gatherings. Whether it's a birthday party, a holiday party, a baptism, etc. I loved planning a menu, sprucing the shack up a bit and entertaining guests. During such an occassion, you would never know my attention had turned from the tale of little Jonny's kindergarten screening to troubleshooting the omission of a forgotten menu item. Sure, some of it might have to do with the pats to my egotistical back, such as "this is so tastey!" or "that picture is just darling!" (It's always nice to hear such kind words.) But moreover, my zest for entertaining has been driven by the simple joy of having many loved ones under one roof.
Nowadays? I would just assume give somebody a key to lock up and sneak out the back door. I have simply run out of the fiz it takes to engage in 4 different conversations and make sure your beverage is fresh all in a single bound. Throw in a finicky guest and you've never seen me so stressed out.
We recently threw a birthday party for my baby Noah, who is now 2 years old. The weather was wonderful, I ordered the food, the kids were well behaved but there I was, hiding in the kitchen. Again. I know that it was my duty to take care of my guests, but I was on the serious verge of ripping off the head of the next person who took me away from the celebration in order to play "fetch me an obscure household item".
I love these people very much, but when it comes down to it, I would rather entertain in a more intimate setting. I can focus on you and pay attention to the wellness of your steak without somebody squeeling into my left ear as to the whereabouts of the half and half, because the coffee creamer just doesn't agree with them.
