Party Planning?

Have you ever planned a dinner event for 100+ people?

I haven’t. Or at least I hadn’t until this past week. My husband’s unit had their annual Christmas Party and as the Commander’s Wife and the FRG leader, it was left for me to plan.

It was a little daunting at first, especially knowing that the number of attendees could vary incredibly (94 Soldier’s in the unit, half are married, half have children) but if you know me, you know that I love this type of thing… even if it’s very time consuming for a homeschooling mother of three young children.

For the most part it went well, though I did have to buy a Venti Peppermint Mocha to get through the day. Oh well. It could have been worse (wink wink).

The biggest thing was that I had a strict budget to follow-- but the Lord provided again and again. We were able to line up a beautiful community center on base that allowed us to host our event for free. FREE. A perfect location, at the perfect price. Nice.

I had a number of gals (spouses to our dear Soldier’s) volunteer to help organize the games, food, and decorations. We met together, planned out the details, and delegated tasks. I was in charge of food/drinks (and of course responsible for all the detail work: logistics, advertising, coordinating, supplies, music, welcoming etc.). And the other two gals did games/entertainment and decorations.

I cooked up a storm and supplied the main course for the dinner—several delicious, crowd pleasing pasta dishes for the masses. The food was perfect for the occasion as it is the one thing that easily feeds large numbers and is appealing to most everyone.The Soldiers and their families brought appetizers and desserts so we had quite the spread.

I had carefully calculated the quantity of food penne, rigatoni and spaghetti, but in the end, we ran out of the main course. (Many single soldiers who hadn’t had a home cooked meal in years loaded their plates high before everyone had the chance to make it through the line—haha, can’t say I blame them). But truth be told, I was actually glad that all the pasta was consumed. We didn’t eat half the desserts and ended up having to take tons of sweets home. Another huge trial for me to bear (wink wink).

The night before the party, my decorator (who was also donating all the decorations) called  and said she couldn’t make it. Groan. I wish people could be more reliable. But somehow the Lord gave me peace of mind and instead of panicking, I rummaged through my closets and found everything I had left that was even remotely Christmassy and loaded it into a bags. Strings of lights, pieces of tinsel, and rolls and rolls of wrapping paper.

Some unexpected volunteers (and some wonderful soldiers tasked by my husband) showed up early and helped me work some magic. Instead of table clothes, we covered the tables with wrapping paper. Instead of poinsettia’s as center pieces, we laid out pinecones, red cranberries, and gold ribbon. We strung lights across the buffet table and hung tinsel on the walls. It wasn’t ideal, but in the end it looked beautiful. I wish I’d had time to take pictures!

The games didn’t go as I’d hoped either, as the gal who was in charge of games fizzled out. I’m still not sure what happened. She was there early to help and did a great job setting out the food, she totally skipped bringing/preparing for any of the games, (which was to be the main entertainment for the adults and kids). Whew!! So again I went scrambling. I figured out some quick games for the kids (making snowflakes with construction paper and scissors, tossing discs into a bin etc.). A gal at the party jumped in and made up her own Christmas Pictionary game for the adults, and the Soldier’s brought down a white board and dry erase markers from the unit to use for the game. It was a big hit.

Even with the glitches, overall, the party really went well. It was neat to see the Lord smooth out the rough spots. The big coffee pots were delivered late, but still the coffee was hot and ready when the time came. People put trash in Santa’s gift bag thinking it was a trash bag, but none of the toys were ruined (it was actually really funny). It took us an 2 hours to clean up after the party (even with a bunch of Soldier’s there to help), but we got all of our deposit back in the end.

We had a huge crowd and there was lots of laughter, the kids enjoyed Santa, and many people were able to meet and connect for the first time.

I think I’d do it again. It’s really so much like planning a small party, just with twice as many people and details to line up. The biggest thing I learned was to have reliable help. Haha. The second most important thing? Having a back up plan.

A doozy of a day

Yep it’s been a doozy

It’s my birthday today. I’ve been blessed with twenty nine years of wonderful life. And it’s been a great and wonderful and beautiful day.

Only it didn’t start that way. In fact, it started quite the opposite. Let me go back to this early (early early) this morning.

It’s 5am and I’m awakened by a piercing yell of my dear little Noah. At first I roll over and try to ignore. Wrapped up in a happy dream of beaches and waves on the shore. Maybe Nick will get up with him, I think. But then I realize that Nick’s not home. And not going to be home again for quite awhile. I feel sadness as the realization of his absence hits me. And even sadder as the yelling doesn’t stop for the room next door. And sadder still when I remember today is supposed to be a special day. It’s my birthday.

I stumble out of bed to check on Noah, soothe him back to sleep, and tip toe out of his room, just hoping that I’ll be able to catch a few more minutes of shut eye before my alarm goes off at 6.

But I can’t sleep. I want to, but I’m stuck in the tossing turning almost awake, but almost asleep state of unrestful rest. My one year old keeps squawking now and then too, so each time I drift off, I’m awoken again. Finally I just get up.

As Noah smacks away on his morning bottle, I pull out my bible and try to get a few moments of quiet devotion in before the other boys wake up. But I’m cranky now too. And struggling to be grateful and focused in my prayer and reading time. And before I really get anywhere with my reading, I hear the other two boys wake up and not two pleasant words were exchanged between them before the fighting began.

Sigh oh sigh sigh sigh.

It’s my birthday. Can’t we all just get along? And be happy all day?

Josh woke up on the wrong side of bed. He realized a toy wasn’t in his bed, and worse, he found it in Isaiah’s hands. Whining and fighting, followed by more fighting and whining. Josh cannot get it together. Every word from his mouth is filled with rebellion and contrariness. My sweet and tenderhearted boy struck with a case of Mr Grumpy’s. And the hardest part? Disciplining consistently and training kids to obey regardless of how they feel, to follow God’s commands whether we feel like it or not. Whether we miss daddy or not. Whether we got enough sleep or not. Whether we have the prized toy or not.

So while I’m dishing out discipline right and left, Noah is playing with my cell phone and calls far and distant friends in far and distant time zones, and I begin receiving worried phone calls from elderly friends and formers pastors, “I got 3 calls from your number early this morning, is every thing okay?? We’ve been worried”

Meanwhile, Isaiah dumps out several board games and all their pieces in his bed, and then while trying to recover a lost cherry from Hi-Ho-Cheerio, he rips a page of his favorite book and dissolved into traumatized tears.

And what do I do? Oh competent accomplished sophisticated mother that I am?

I just sit down on the floor and laugh. I laughed and laughed and laughed. The boys said, “Mom!?!?!? What are you laughing for?” and between guffaws and giggles, I say, “It’s either laughing or crying, Guys!!”

And it was. Cause oh boy, I could have cried up a storm. It’s my birthday and my husband just left. It’s my birthday and there’s no birthday greetings whispered in my ear first thing this morning. There are no birthday kisses left on my lips. And it’s Labor day, and there’s no special packages or cards or boxes waiting to be delivered by a mailman on a National holiday. No mail at all. No Fed Ex or UPS either. It’s my birthday, and my kids aren’t old enough to bake me a cake, or buy and wrap gifts. It’s my birthday. My 29th birthday.  My last birthday in my 20’s. Oh boy, it really really was LAUGH. Or CRY.

But I was able to laugh. God gave me the grace, the joy, the love, the patience… to laugh. To laugh at my boys. And life. And my situation. Oh and a merry heart makes good like medicine.

It was just what I needed too, because as we headed to the breakfast table, the meltdowns continued. Josh had to be excused from the table 3 times because he couldn’t keep it together (literally crying over spilled milk). I found myself waiting and wishing for Nick to call, knowing that he would try so hard to call on my birthday. Only to go grab my phone and realize that he had called. Twice.

AND MY SILLY PHONE WAS ON VIBRATE so I didn’t hear it and didn’t get it and totally missed my one opportunity to talk with my hubby.

Sigh. Major big-time. I shed a few tears over this one, I admit. Nuts!!

We finish breakfast and devotions and I load the dishes into the dishwasher, with my trusty Noah helper (and dishwasher unloader) by my side. And then I hear it. Gail's of glee from the back of the house. I head back to check on my boys, who had literally been left alone for 5 minutes, and find my bedroom door closed. Sigh.

I open the door to see two little naked boys jumping on my bed. “Where are your clothes?,” I ask. “We took them off, and put them in a pile, and then peed on them!!!” is the cheerful response.

And I laugh. I laugh so hard, so long, so purely and blissfully, I almost had to add my clothes to the pile of peed on laundry.

Oh what a morning. Not the birthday morning, I’d anticipated, but as my mom suggested, a very very memorable birthday in birthday history.

The rest of the day went (relatively) smoothly from there, and was filled with phonecalls and texts and emails and Facebook posts that delighted my heart all day. And as I was going down the grocery store aisles this afternoon, I wished out loud that Nick would be able to call again. No sooner had the words left my lips, when my phone rang. And it was Nick. And were able to talk for a few minutes before we hurried off to soccer practice.

Then tonight, a handful of girlfriends came over and cheered my spirits so completely, I can’t even express. We fellowshipped long and freely and enjoyably. And we ate birthday cake like crazy. I was showered with love and gifts and made to feel so special.

And here at the end of the day, I’m truly able to look back on the days events and praise God for every moment of it. And even more so, to remember the past twenty nine years that I’ve enjoyed and to say, God is good. The ups and downs, the joys and trials, the good, the bad, the ugly. God is good.

Grande Mama

It's the perfect day for hot espresso. And since I'm a native (but no long a resident) of the Pacific North West, I'm somewhat of a Starbucks fanatic. So, because there are not many 34 degree days in this Southern state in which I now live, I bundled up the boys and headed off to run errands who am I kidding? Starbucks.

When I got home later, and had unloaded children, groceries, and even a few Christmas presents, I quick snapped a picture of our drinks.

As I looked at the cups on the table, I couldn't help but think that, metaphorically speaking, the drinks looked just like our family today. The grande mama in the middle (nuts! I knew I should have gotten the "tall") with two little hot cocoa's standing next to me.

Only the two kids hot cocoa's would be holding hands with each other, while the grande mama would be balancing a 25lb baby on her hip, while also holding her purse, her trusty Starbucks card, and the hand of the youngest hot cocoa.

Perhaps it's needless to say that by the time we were done, this grande mama needed a venti ice water despite the outdoor thermostat.

But... it was so worth it. Some might not even call it coffee, but I still think that a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha is THE. BEST. DRINK. EVER.

DPP, Day 7

Rain, rain, rain

I've been craving hot coffee this week. I'm wanting Fall to arrive and to revel in the goodness of a Pumpkin Spice Latte and a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha. Yet this wonderful Southern state that I live in just can't seem to turn the Autumn weather on. It's still 90 degrees most days and while the trees are starting to turn color, it's hard to justify a trip to Starbucks for hot coffee.

But.. it's been raining for the last 24 hours, and Starbucks is becoming almost irresistible.

Perhaps I sound a bit crazy, but there is a reason that Starbucks Coffee originated in the beautiful, wet, Pacific Northwest (which happens to be where I grew up).

And that reason is: RAIN.

There is something about the rain that makes you want to grab a good book and a steaming mug of authentic coffee... and just relax in the safety and warmth of your home. No wonder Seattle, in it's 226 overcast days a year, has a coffee shop on every corner. Starbucks Coffee owner, you're a genius.

So anyway, I've been craving coffee big time.

Last night I had a dream that this piping hot Pumpkin Spice Latte was waiting for me in the kitchen

But this morning when I got up, it wasn't. In fact, all that was waiting for me was a sink full of dirty dishes. Arg.

However, later on today, as the rain continued to pour, my "older" boys (2 and 4 years) began playing "Delivery Man." This is a game in which they pretend to drive a big delivery truck and bring special treats to people. Usually the boys are Ice Cream delivery men and they "deliver" different toys that second as ice cream cones.

I think my 4 year old knew that rain means Starbucks though, because amidst all his other important deliveries (what a busy morning!) he came running into the room, shouting, "Mom, I have your Starbucks delivery!"

So I took a picture.

After seeing my enormous grin, and something that was *obviously* picture worthy, my 2 year old added, "It's your Picey Latte, Mommy" (i.e. Pumpkin Spice Latte)

Boy, do I love these kids.

Oh so sweet

My morning started out quite hectic.

Boys up at the crack of dawn (literally in the 6 o'clock hour).

Spilled milk and cereal at breakfast.

Dirty dishes in sink.

Then out for a quick walk/run through neighborhood.

Directly into car after exercise.

Off to run errands.

Then to the commissary. Longest lines ever. Apparently pay-day equals long lines (do that many people really live pay check to pay check?? Wow!!).

Cranky kids while waiting in line.

Rushing to get to story hour on time.

Running late.

No parking at the library.

Circle.

Circle.

Arg! Still no parking.

3rd circle.

See a soldier standing in front of library holding Starbucks.

Soldier approaches vehicle.

Realize that soldier is none other than Captain Daddy!!

Daddy hands Mommy the Starbucks treat.

Unbuckles boys and brings them into story hour.

I drink an iced coffee and get a few minutes of quiet while parking the car a mile away. But better than the Starbucks or the peace and quiet... I have an amazing husband who is always thinking of me. He got out of class early, and instead of doing his own thing, he drives to the only Starbucks in town, buys my favorite drink, and meets me at story hour. Yep, he's a keeper. :)