Blog entries may be sporadic over the next couple of weeks - not that I've been super consistant, recently but...
I feel like Wiley E Coyote strapping on the ACME rocket pack, sure to catch the freakin' bird THIS time, only to have the whole thing malfuntion.
Not that there have been any malfunctions, thus far. Except in MY BRAIN.
Today is Wednesday. On Sunday, I'm co-hosting an egg hunt/birthday barbecue for my oldest and one of her classmates at a lovely park. The forecast? Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain.
Plan B. Plan B. *drums fingers on desk*
Right. I'm three days out from the actual pardeh, and I don't even have an accurate head count. I haven't finalized the menu plans, because again, I don't know who all is coming. Could be 10 kids, could be 50. Okay, probably not 50. I'm thinking about 25 kids and their attached grownups.
Which would be fine. Except - RAIN.
I either need a miracle to somehow whip my house into party-ready state, which I can safely say ain't gonna happen, no way, no how, or the other mother can host at her house, which her husband is NOT going to be thrilled with. Gah.
I'm doing my rain-rain-go-away dance RIGHT NOW, and will keep doing it until Sunday night, when I'm hopefully laying on my couch, eating leftovers.
If that wasn't enough, I volunteered to provide snack for the class every day for the week following the party. And my girl's real birthday is that Friday, so I'll be shlepping cupcakes. Then, Spring Break starts.
Here's where the haywire happens. Easter morning.
Wake at butt-crack of dawn, let kids eat giant basket of candy after consuming a single hard boiled egg. Pray that all hard boiled eggs have been recovered from the bunny's most excellent hiding job. Gussy kids up, go to Grandma's. Repeat with the eggs and the candy. Somewhere in there, inform kids that in a few hours we will be boarding a plane and flying to Disneyland.
The other passengers are going to LOOOOOVE us, man.
So yes, spontaneous vacation to Disneyland. Woo-hoo! Because, clearly, my planning and organizational skills are fierce, and I of all people should be a spur of the moment traveller. With three small children.
Oh! I need to board the dog somewhere. Sheet. I think I hear the rocketpack sort-of sputtering.
So, like, if you hear a whistling noise followed by a loud splat and perhaps some comedic sound effects coming from my neck of the woods, never you mind. It's just me, under a boulder. Or an anvil.
Tra la laaaaa!