If you think I made this cake, than you’re drunker than I ended up being at the Preschooler’s 5th birthday party.
Nope, this R2-D2 cake was all Husband’s doing. In fact, he was responsible for planning the entire Star Wars-themed event. I am in no way robot-oriented, and I think I’ve mentioned before how I feel about making homemade birthday cakes. All I did was line the pans with parchment paper to increase his odds of success. Came out pretty good, huh?
But, back to my misbehavior.
First, let me start out by saying that I’m not a huge drinker. I may talk a big game because I love my tequila, among other things, but I’m not generally indulging in large quantities of the stuff. This is mostly because I’ve found that if Life sees you too happy, Life will spend the next week and a half getting you back.
This morning, the sky dumped a whole bunch more snow on top of us and threatened to break a small boy’s heart. Global warming, you are a fickle friend, indeed. If not for some neighbors with a sled and a few die-hard friends who were willing to risk their lives on the roads for a little cake and ice cream, it would have been quite a different sort of day.
Husband was busy frosting the cake in the hour before the party, so I went outside to shovel a path to our house, starting with our 4 million stairs. At some point during this process, the snow changed to sleet, so I got to the bottom just in time to start from the top again with the heavy stuff. Then, I frantically shoveled out what I thought would be parking spots for two cars. Nope, just one and a half cars. That rounds down to one car, in case you were wondering. So, our friend Ed and I tried shoveling out a different snow bank for another half a car (rounding down to zero cars) and on and on.
I don’t usually start drinking at 11:30 in the morning, but, you know, it just seemed like a good time. Turns out bourbon goes down smoother than expected when you’ve had nary a cool, refreshing drink of water after your exertions. Here are the bits and pieces I remember from the party:
- The kids beating the crap out of each other with inflatable light sabers. And me laughing.
- The kids enjoying their pizza with Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing playing noticeably in the background (the kids didn’t bat an eye; meanwhile, all the adults were giggling like sixth graders).
- As the cake was finally unveiled, me screaming at Husband, “Stop trying to show me up on my own blog,” and storming out in a jealous rage. (Did that even happen? Maybe I just dreamt that when I was passed out after the party.)
Anyway, it all kind of reminded me of that 30 Rock party scene (the one where Tina Fey’s character vomits on somebody and immediately stuffs another cupcake into her mouth). Except that I was the only one who was drunk, and most of the other guests were under 5.
I don’t know what the Preschooler thought about how this party compared to the others in his short life, but as far as I’m concerned, it was the best one EVER.