Expectation Issues

All Aboard for Matthew's 4th Birthday.

I am having expectation issues today. (They actually occur daily but some days are worse than others.) Today I am expecting to have the best 4th birthday party ever on the planet. Not mine of course, (oh to be a kid again) but Matthew's next Saturday. I have one week to be ready for the blessed event. This is a magical time for him in his childhood. He's been counting down the days for weeks (even months). See previous post about "age" and recall that we all want to be older when we are young.

Since Matthew loves trains, we are having a train theme for the second time in his life. Actually, 50% of his birthdays now have been adorned with trains. I have this weird, psycho compulsion to make his day so special that he will be glowing for weeks. It's to the point where I'm calculating how much sleep I can lose to make, create and organize everything just the way I want it to present. Last night I decided that it would be fabulous to have a large engine made out of plywood that the kids could play in. I don't think that one is going to fly. If I was skilled with a saw and hammer, I could probably pull it off myself. . . .but, I'm not. I've downgraded and I'm being really nice to Mr. Sly to see if I can twist his arm into making one out of a measly cardboard box. It's not as cool as a real wooden one but I have to accept that my desires don't always translate into those of the remaining family members.

Well, anyway, you see where I'm going. I must be kept in check. For the last several years, FOUR to be exact, I've pretty much scaled my life back to a point of survival sprinkled with frivolity only as traditional holidays require. I've had to--to maintain some resemblence of sanity. My mother seemed to can and freeze and maintain a spotless house while making meals for the sick neighbor down the street, NEVER sat pans on the table, and served the jam in a glass dish with a spoon. I don't know how she did it. We lost classy a while back. Heck, most of our people don't wear clothes half the time. . .I'll let you guess which ones they are. I know the party is not critical in the big scheme of things but since I time-skimp on so many things let me go for this one motherly indulgence no matter how much time or energy it requires. After all, my baby will never be four again.