I was in labor with Missy the Younger. Early stages of it, mind you. Mostly hot and nauseous and panicking as my body started to remember the pain of real contractions, but things were on their way to happening and I remember it being a bit of a tussle to get any of the midwives to pay me any heed when I told them, "Yes, I know I've laid utterly stalled in this curséd bed all day long, but I'm telling you I'm in labor now, goddammit, and when my body decides to go into labor it does not fuck around. I will be pushing now, thank you very much."
We had her party this afternoon. And a very merry party it was.
Chaos reigned supreme upstairs and the kids--all 13 of them--tore the place all to hell. The carpet in Elder Miss's room will never be the same thanks to a rather unfortunate gift of something called Window Crayons. Three rolls of toilet paper were ultimately sacrificed to the cause of fun. And puddles of punch have been sopped up from every nook and cranny imaginable.
Clearly there was a conspicuous lack of adult supervision, but happily there were no fatalities. Clever children.
Personally, I had a great time. And I'd like to say, without getting too sappy and sentimental, that I'm very grateful for the friends I have found this past year. They helped make what might have been a very dull, obiligatory event into a truly fun and joyful memory.
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