Every year for the past seven years, the day of Sam’s birth is very hot.
It is usually the kind of day where your makeup melts off of your face, that your clothes are sticking to your body and you are seeking shade when outdoors so you don’t throw up.
That is the day that I usually have Sam’s birthday party in the backyard.
For example – this was last year’s forecast for the Friday afternoon party:
Every year I freak out and fill up water balloons and set up slip n’ slides so that the kids won’t perish during his celebration.
Last year I think we just put out a sprinkler like total white trash in desperation.
I was not going to put myself in that position again. This year, the seventh year, I finally learned my lesson. I rented an inflatable water slide.
When I ordered I figured that would provide the main entertainment for the party while keeping the children cool at the same time. The gentleman on the phone recommended the “Wipe Out” slide and I trusted his expertise and booked it.
The theme of that party became “Wipe Out,” surfing, sharks and summer.
Everything was super organized and perfect.
Summer was on its way and Sam would have fun with his friends and the Gaga’s would have a fun weekend of laughs and celebrations…..
I could not fucking believe it.
It started on Monday. I figured the weathermen were just being dicks and tried to put the whole forecast out of my mind.
By Wednesday I was beside myself.
I rolled around in bed at night tossing and turning, unable to sleep while I considered whether or not I should cancel the party or risk having all of the children get electrocuted by lightning or murdered by “large hails” on the bouncy slide.
It was a real toss-up.
every two minutes periodically check my phone to compare and contrast all of the weather forecasts.
I tortured Mr. Gaga incessantly. I would call him at work all day.
“Hello?” he would say in a hushed tone.
“Have you checked the doppler?” I would shriek.
“No, I am in a meeting…what do you want?” he would ask with annoyance.
“The doppler hasn’t changed!” I wailed, “The storm is coming right at 4 PM when the party starts….what should we do?” I asked desperately approximately 10-15 times a day.
“Just wait….it might change.” he would say and hang up on me.
When he wouldn’t talk about it I would call the man who owned the inflatable company, (or as I got used to calling him the “Bounce House Guy.”)
Every day he would talk me off the ledge and tell me tales of other families and schools who would cancel their parties only to find that the weather is beautiful. He suggested we just keep waiting to see if the weather forecast would change, as he pointed out that Connecticut weather was very unpredictable and often the weather forecasts missed the mark completely.
“Why do we live in this fucking asshole place?” I demanded to Mr. Gaga one night while I frantically checked my phone forecasts and he tried to sleep.
“It’s a horrible place…with a horrible quality of life, horrible weather…..I fucking hate it here!!”
He rolled over and ignored me.
By Thursday, I could barely function. I hadn’t slept in days and I hadn’t prepared properly since I wasn’t quite sure if the party was a go, which was adding to my stress level.
“The bounce house guy” says we can cancel right up until that morning if we want….” I explained to Mr. Gaga.
“Hmm-hmm.” he answered.
“Well – but then should I make all of the cupcakes and cookies?” I asked bleary-eyed on Thursday.
At this point Mr. Gaga had stopped responding appropriately and would only stare blankly back at me or say things like “I want a divorce.”
We decided to just move ahead with our plans even though all of the weather reports continued to say that there was a 50 percent chance of a thunderstorm occurring right at 4 PM when the party began.
Now I had to get baking, cleaning and organizing Thursday night after a week of no sleep and stress.
I was in a bad mood while I frantically baked beach cupcakes and barked out orders to Mr. Gaga.
At one point I was covered in blue frosting thinking of some items I needed to buy at the store – I called out to Mr. Gaga to write out a list for me as I named the items I needed.
“Why don’t you write a list for me?” he asked just to be annoying.
“Do you think I look like I want to play fucking games with you right now? Do you think this is a time to crack stupid jokes?!!” I screamed like a psychopath.
He just stared at me in horror. He quietly wrote out the list and went upstairs.
When I was cleaning up at 2 am completely crazed I looked at the piece of paper he left behind and died laughing.
I woke up Friday at 5:30 AM and frantically checked all of the weather stations.
The storm was right on track – nothing had changed.
I set about cleaning and finishing up what needed to get done. Mr. Gaga and I, desperately wracked our brains to think of what we would do if God forbid all of the children ended up in the house due to inclement weather.
“I’ll challenge them all to thumb-wrestling and arm-wrestling. We can have an arm-wrestling tournament.”
I was so exhausted that it seemed like a good idea.
“Ok, and I will give them all tattoos -we can have an indoor tattoo parlor.” I answered positively.
The party was quickly going from a wipe-out summer splash party to a seedy reenactment of “Over the Top.”
Early in the day – the “bounce house guy” arrived with the water slide.
I guess I was so focused on my party plans that when he described to me the actual dimensions of the slide I hadn’t been listening.
He asked where the slide would be going.
I brought him to a small patch of grass in the backyard.
He stared at me in horror.
“Um…it’s going to take up more room than that….it will pretty much fill your whole backyard.”
But then …..a miracle happened.
At around noon – all of my hourly doppler radar detectors changed their tune!!
The rain was coming at 6 PM!!!
It was a “Wipe-Out” miracle.
I finished getting set up outside and after I put my gorgeous “surfboard cookies” in wrappers…..
I had about ten minutes to spare and I just needed a little release….
So I went down the slide in my clothes….
Next year Sam’s party will be held inside of a movie theater to save my mental health and my marriage.
Besides, I will be wiped out from planning his communion.
AREN’T I LUCKY TO HAVE A HUSBAND WHO PUTS UP WITH MY ANTICS AND WEATHERMEN WHO ARE ALWAYS WRONG!!??? CLICK THE BANNER BELOW TO VOTE FOR ME – NOW I HAVE TO GO CATCH UP ON MY SLEEP!!! XO, LADY GOO GOO GAGA