Our neighborhood has a monthly "girls night." You are deemed hostess of this monthly soiree when a pair of hideous frogs end up on your doorstep. The frogs found their way to my pad and I fulfilled my obligatory duty to host. I set up the party for 6:30 on a Friday night giving me ample time to feed the family and get them all set in the basement for a night of fun while I hosted upstairs. What I didn't realize (until 4:30 that Friday afternoon) was that though my invitation said 6:30, everyone else's said 5:30. Facebook apparently is a firm believer in Daylight Savings Time. It automatically pushed the party up an hour on that joyful weekend where we were relishing our extra hour of sleep. Turns out, the party guests beat us to the party. As my family scarfed down pot roast, I served up drinks, apologizing that the one night these women have to escape their child-rearing duties, now included my children. They didn't care at all. They were happy to be among friends, catching up, and sipping cocktails. Though I usually like things orderly and following the plan I have in place; I wasn't bothered by the fact that the food wasn't ready, there were dishes in the sink, or my children were crashing the party. I was with my friends, not my neighbors. People who weren't judging the cleanliness of my house, the disorder of the party, or the noise of my children. People that understand that if you want to "have your cake and eat it to" there are always still crumbs.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Facebook Fail
When we built our house, we had several desires. The location wasn't our first pick. Though I love our house...it wasn't a must-have. What we were searching for was great neighbors. Families with young children. "30 somethings" that we could connect with. Active people that we could become friends with. We hit the jackpot. We live in a neighborhood surrounded by all of these things. Like anything, it took time to meet everyone (7 years later we still haven't met everyone), and it took awkward conversation to break into the "comfortable." This past weekend, I realized I have found it.
Our neighborhood has a monthly "girls night." You are deemed hostess of this monthly soiree when a pair of hideous frogs end up on your doorstep. The frogs found their way to my pad and I fulfilled my obligatory duty to host. I set up the party for 6:30 on a Friday night giving me ample time to feed the family and get them all set in the basement for a night of fun while I hosted upstairs. What I didn't realize (until 4:30 that Friday afternoon) was that though my invitation said 6:30, everyone else's said 5:30. Facebook apparently is a firm believer in Daylight Savings Time. It automatically pushed the party up an hour on that joyful weekend where we were relishing our extra hour of sleep. Turns out, the party guests beat us to the party. As my family scarfed down pot roast, I served up drinks, apologizing that the one night these women have to escape their child-rearing duties, now included my children. They didn't care at all. They were happy to be among friends, catching up, and sipping cocktails. Though I usually like things orderly and following the plan I have in place; I wasn't bothered by the fact that the food wasn't ready, there were dishes in the sink, or my children were crashing the party. I was with my friends, not my neighbors. People who weren't judging the cleanliness of my house, the disorder of the party, or the noise of my children. People that understand that if you want to "have your cake and eat it to" there are always still crumbs.
Our neighborhood has a monthly "girls night." You are deemed hostess of this monthly soiree when a pair of hideous frogs end up on your doorstep. The frogs found their way to my pad and I fulfilled my obligatory duty to host. I set up the party for 6:30 on a Friday night giving me ample time to feed the family and get them all set in the basement for a night of fun while I hosted upstairs. What I didn't realize (until 4:30 that Friday afternoon) was that though my invitation said 6:30, everyone else's said 5:30. Facebook apparently is a firm believer in Daylight Savings Time. It automatically pushed the party up an hour on that joyful weekend where we were relishing our extra hour of sleep. Turns out, the party guests beat us to the party. As my family scarfed down pot roast, I served up drinks, apologizing that the one night these women have to escape their child-rearing duties, now included my children. They didn't care at all. They were happy to be among friends, catching up, and sipping cocktails. Though I usually like things orderly and following the plan I have in place; I wasn't bothered by the fact that the food wasn't ready, there were dishes in the sink, or my children were crashing the party. I was with my friends, not my neighbors. People who weren't judging the cleanliness of my house, the disorder of the party, or the noise of my children. People that understand that if you want to "have your cake and eat it to" there are always still crumbs.
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