And so begins another madcap, zany weekend

Friday is my Monday in terms of the work week. I start out of the gate early friday morning, and don't stop racing in circles until late afternoon Sunday.

And that is just on a regular weekend.

This is no regular weekend.

This is the weekend of my son's birthday party. Which I am NOT having at my house. The last time I had a birthday party at my house, someone ripped a hole in the arm of my sofa, someone else peed in the bathroom - ON THE FLOOR - and when I left my husband in charge of the pinata, I walked in the room 10 minutes later to find the entire group of boys - grownups included - gathered around the coffee table beating THE SHIT out of the pinata, because (according to my husband) "the damn thing just wouldn't open". I can attest to the hardiness of the pinata, because they whacked at the thing for a really long time before they finally made a tear in the cardboard. And then they got all "Lord of the Flies" on that shit (as young boys do) and tore at it with their bare hands, shreds of colored paper and bits of cardboard and assorted pieces of candy flying everywhere. I just found a jolly rancher last week that we are almost certain came from that pinata. Which was 2 years ago.

Point being, the party is not going to be held at my house.

I am feeding them in a public park, sitting on picnic blankets spread out on the ground (so the food won't have so far to travel) and then I am strapping each of them into a pair of skates and letting them loose on the rink to raise hell and hopefully not break anything. That is my fervent prayer, that everyone refrain from injurious behavior for this one evening.

I don't know who I am kidding - eight and nine year old boys spend every minute trying to figure out how to best risk their lives. Whether it is riding a skateboard down a hill on their stomach, face first, or jumping off the roof with a sheet tied to their shoulders as a parachute, boys of a certain age have a maximum of bad ideas and a minimum of common sense. Survival instinct kicks in occasionally, but for the most part it's every man-child for himself, no holds barred, bring the big bandaids chaos.

Long story short, this is going to be a very exciting weekend, and I will be welcoming Monday with open (and yet incredibly fatigued) arms.