Feliz Cumpleanos! It’s my husband’s birthday, and this year I’m taking my mother-in-law’s pointed observation under consideration. It seems our American, semi-understated celebration is not enough. Let the festivities begin! A30_Tsitika / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND
Time to get moving. This family is big, and they love parties! I need to make sure we have plenty of food.
¡Ay caramba! I hate big parties. I don’t really like to attend them, and with my distracted brain, planning them is the closest thing to torture that I can think of.
What shall I make? Carnitas and posole? Chicken mole? Rice and beans to round out the plate.
Oh, I see why Mexicans have these quinceaneras now. It’s all training for the young woman to be able to plan a routine birthday party someday. Well, guess who’s lacking that training. You’ve got it! Me!
I wonder if we can clear some space in the garage. Seventy-five people in an 1800 square foot home is pretty crowded. I think if we set up a space heater and some tables, we should be good.
Oh, why couldn’t I have married into an introverted family, or at least a small family? I am out of my league here.
The garage is all set up, and the smells coming from the kitchen are making me hungry! I still have some chopping to do, so I’d better get busy.
Well, that was a lot of work. Feeling a little bit like the Little Red Hen right now. Funny how the able-bodied helpers scatter when the work begins.
Preparations are in place, the house smells good, and all that’s left is a quick shower before people start to arrive.
Oh, my! I am already exhausted, and people haven’t even started showing up yet. I need to shower, but I just want to crash on my bed and nap.
The guests have started arriving. Mr. A seems happy to see everyone. He’s just talking up a storm.
It really is nice to see everyone, and I’m so grateful for the help. I have smiling women in my kitchen, heating tortillas and helping get plates of food on the table.
Well, look at that man, surrounded by his family. He looks so happy. He looks so loved. I wonder why I don’t do this more often.
Plates and bottles and so much leftover food! The work never ends! I wish I could have spent a little more time with him today. Oh, well. There’s always tomorrow.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “RSVP.” Plan the ultimate celebration for the person you’re closest to, and tell us about it. Where is it? Who’s there? What’s served? What happens?