Sometimes In Life, You Just Need To Roller Skate...

Usually my titles are so enticing... and this, what is THIS about?! You're thinking I've turned zen. I haven't... I can assure you I will never, ever be zen. Or mellow. I'm a party planner for goodness sake, we tend to be a little on the high strung side?!

I'll get to the blog title in a minute (of course I'm going to have to catch you up to speed on how I actually put on roller skates and skated around a roller rink today... in the middle of party season...) But the beginning of this post actually starts with this post I stumbled across by Jaclyn at Peckled. And even though she gives her husband a nickname (oh, I've got nicknames!) I really fell in love with her writing, and her actually- I can just tell she's one of those crazy sweet people (and crazy talented which doesn't hurt either).

In summary, her post talked about how the view from their kitchen window has green hills for days and days (see picture in her post) and it took a plumber coming over to fix their kitchen sink for her to realize just how amazing her view was. He stood there and stared at it and commented how he'd always longed for a view like that... Nothing like a stranger to point out your blessings to you....

So I read that story and it's been with me for days. Funny how writing can do that.

I too have a home I take for granted. It's a house that though I love- I am always complaining about. I hate the closets (or lack of closets?), both bathrooms need updating... the carpet needs replacing... and the list never ends.

Then there's our backyard. I've complained about that for 2 years since we purchased our house and now when I look at it, it's almost perfect. It's huge, with lush green grass, an amazing play structure that was given to us for free, a chicken coop full of chickens that produce grade A eggs I am constantly burning, and a new patio area my husband just laid with his own two hands. But does anyone hear me talking about how much I love our updated backyard? Of course not. I'm busy. Too busy to even notice really.

And it's ironic, oh it always is... because I wasn't fulfilled when I was at a stand-still creatively the first year of my son's life, so I decided to start throwing parties to give me an outlet. Big parties. And then I decided to launch Miss Party Mom. And not that MPM has anything on other event planners in terms of a crazy schedule- but for me, with my small kids, and my waitressing job- I am currently overwhelmed with my Summer party schedule. I am averaging 2 parties a month and because I live for teeny tiny details, I spend time on things no party planner should. Things that keep me up way too late and things no one but me notices. I'm working these crazy late nights which makes me short with my kids and begging for their mercy so I can get something done during the day (and let me tell you, begging a 2 year old for mercy is weird....). I know that if I dropped it all (which I've considered) and just went back to obsessively cleaning my house and making sure my kids looked perfect at all times, I'd again, drown.

And so, it seems... I'm unfulfilled if I'm not being creative, and too busy for life when I am being creative... hmmm. I've never been good at balance... the word actually makes me laugh an uncomfortable laughter.

I am totally aware of the fact that I'm missing almost daily that we own a great house that a few of my friends would love to own and a fantastic backyard that is perfect for throwing my crazy parties. I take things for granted I never thought I would because I am busy... too busy to even take note. Biblically speaking, I am literally a Martha, I have always been a Martha... and although I would love for that to mean Stewart, I cannot even cook good eggs... so that's out.

I am so busy that I say no to a lot of get togethers with friends, Dowton Abbey Girls Nights, lounging by the pool on a hot day, coffee dates, etc... all because I am just trying to get that next detail done for my next party. The beach seems silly to me, and I live on the coast of Cali where the beaches are glorious. But to me, the beach seems unproductive... and sandy. And sand is messy and I have enough messes to clean up in my life.

I got off of work today at my waitressing job and met my husband and kids at the West Coast Kustoms car show we've been putting our 59' Chevy wagon in for 7 years together. A car show that is now- most perfectly, held in our little town at the fairgrounds.

And unlike any other year, they had a skating rink set up for all car show attendees. Do you think I wanted to skate? You REALLY don't know me if you think I wanted to skate. I wanted to get a big fat pretzel with cheese and a ton of salt on it and walk around that car show mindlessly, maybe picking up a souvenir tee or two and instagramming all of the hot pink cars. But that rink called my son's name and all I could think was, "Why on earth is there a roller skating rink set up at a car show?" and, "Why the heck aren't the pretzels here like last year?!"

I pulled it together and did the thing any good mom would have done and we got those skates on our feet and we went for it. I got him out there and he could barely even stand. It was a task to get him off of his butt and on to the skates even. We struggled for a good 35 minutes and the whole time Cormac persevered and, although frustrated, he wanted to keep going and going, fall after fall.

Our close friends got there and entertained Cormac for a few minutes so I could, gasp! go skating without him, and actually- skate. Me... skate? The music was blaring, "Baby Got Back" was on (my jam), the disco lights were shining and in a way, kind of calling my name. It was the first time in a while I've done something totally unplanned that isn't just the means to an end... so that I can go work on another party.

I'm not saying I was spinning around in circles in the center of the rink with my head back having a crazy, "I'M TOO BUSY FOR FUUUUN!" moment... I'm just saying, it felt good to get out there and think for a few minutes about all the things I have in my life and the fact that my son just fell on his butt for 35 minutes and never cried and just wanted to hear me tell him how good he was, even though, we both knew- he was terrible... I daily take these things for granted because I am busy. Probably TOO busy.

And although I love planning parties it shouldn't be my entire life... because I have a life, a rather great one actually.

So thanks for the reminder, Jaclyn.

                                                                   xo Party or Die xo
                                                                            kenna

And they're pretty terrible cell phone pics, because if you don't plan on making great memories, I guess you don't plan on bringing your great camera...

The Stay at Home Mom She Was Never Meant To Be

Yesterday the kids were insane. Like a new, more intense insane. Like pull all the cushions off the couch, dump out every lego in the bin, take every pot and pan outside and run up the street 7 houses to a neighbors house I do not know insane. On top of the insane was a layer of whininess. I can almost handle insane, but whiny will send me straight over the edge.

I blame Birdie's whininess on the ol' toddler teething. She is not a clingy child and this week she's been a koala bear. I don't do koala bear well. Her temper is crazy short to where she's developed this loud crazy scream at her brother if he does even the littlest thing to make her mad. This scream is giving me some insight into her tween years and I'm already scared, like totally and utterly frightened of her.... at not even 2 years old.

Cormac is pushing the limits with me daily. He's entering a new "sassy" stage and all I want to do is reassure him, "Son... I WILL out-sass you, you are speaking to the QUEEN of SASS, ok?" He's also just started getting in to daily costumes- which I love the idea of... or at least I thought I would? With these costumes he brings out these alter egos that I can't seem to keep up with. Yesterday he was The Batman Pirate and his voice was in character a good chunk of the day. He was so deep in his imagination I was scared I'd lost him to the one and only original Batman Pirate. I didn't even know how to interact with Batman Pirate, that's how deep he'd gone. I kept reminding him that Batman was a good guy, "But not when he's a pirate, MOM!" Oh, ok...

In the midst of these two driving me nuts I decided to have an old friend over, you know- to try and catch up. Because that's always a wonderful idea when your kids wake up feeling like feisty super villains and are dead set on destroying any plans you had of accomplishing anything for the day.

So my friend and I struggled for 2 hours to talk about adult things while I had Cormac literally draping off of my face, interrupting every minute with a new story about the picture he drew... and Birdie begging/crying for me to hold her. I usually always have a favorite child for the day, but in that moment I had no favorite.

Anyway it got me thinking out loud about Motherhood and the difference between the roles of a Mother and a Father. As I'm sitting with my friend I start telling her exactly how I feel about the 2 roles and I don't even think I knew exactly how I felt... it just started spilling out of my mouth like most of my thoughts do. A stream of consciousness I had not tapped into yet. Scary.

In a nut shell I will tell you what I told her... (and more)

At a pretty young age I figured out I wanted to be a designer of some sort, whether it be in fashion design, toy design, party design... I knew I wanted to be involved in design in some sort of fashion. And I pursued that. And then we had Cormac and my thoughts shifted to, "Now I want to stay at home and raise my kids". I mean, why wouldn't I want to do that? I never really even questioned this- it was just the obvious answer... Until that is- I started doing it. I figured I'd eventually learn to enjoy preparing 3 meals a day and finger painting and singing songs. I figured I'd fall in love with being a mom to the fullest capacity of being a mom.

And one of my closest friends is doing all of these things so contently. And I'm so happy for her because I know she is fulfilling her dream of raising her kids and even homeschooling them for preschool (which sounds about as fun to me as getting a root canal). I read these facebook statuses from woman I know, "feeling so blessed to be able to stay home with the kids" and all I can think is that I'm wired differently and I do not think I have ever had a day where I have said that or thought that... let alone typed it.

I'd love to be successful at something I'm good at which is so far off from preparing 3 meals a day it's not even funny. I want to come home at 5 p.m. and be praised like Shawn is the minute he walks in the door. I'd love to have someone even attempting to make me a crappy dinner when I get home from a day of doing something I enjoy. I'd love for my kids to jump on me because they're that happy to see me. I want to raise my voice at my children and have them respect me the way they do when Shawn raises his voice... they hear me all day, a raised voice is par for the course.

All of this just got me thinking that man I would make a great Dad. The perks seem so rewarding. I mean, I'm a good mom... I don't suck or anything. But goodness I could totally be a Dad. Not to take anything away from Shawn, who is like the ultimate Dad...

Yesterday was a rough day with The Teething Toddler and her brother Batman Pirate and I'm definitely not supposed to be admitting to any of this... But I did. Oh well.

                                                                xo Party or Die xo
                                                                         kenna

The Blogger Who Didn't Know She Could Write....

Up until about 3 weeks ago, I didn't really know I could write. I've always been kind of out of touch with my capabilities, I guess. I'm a self-proclaimed 'self-deprecating, it's-always-funnier-if-you're-laughing-AT-me-not-with-me type of person.' I know- twisted.

I have always been the creative girl... as in, History Class.... eh. Doodling during History Class... ya! Same goes for every other subject, except I guess in a small way, English. Somehow in high school I did manage my way into an AP English Class... But when it came to actually taking the AP test, my teacher told me not to waste the money... I wasn't ready. So I went back to doodling... A+ doodling...

And although I liked writing and thought I was decent at it- even if I wasn't ready for some dumb test that wasn't going to do anything for me as a fashion major anyway... no one ever told me I was any good at it, so I never pursued it.

And then Miss Party Mom launched. And then suddenly I felt a desire to blog about Miss Party Mom launching. And then, and then, and then... a true writer's nightmare... something no writer wants to hear right out of the gate...

So I started this blog in February ('13) and immediately friends and family were texting me, "need an editor?" which screamed, YOU SUCK! pretty loudly... And so I just kind of owned my suckiness and figured, hey...Hannah loves it... at least I'm entertaining one person... and my mom is bound to like it, right? That's what mom's are for, to read their offspring's crappy blogs... So 2 people, not bad.

By the fourth post, a close friend of my husband's (some might call her his "best girlfriend"- which is weird, for sure... but what else am I left with? Please don't ask me if she's pretty) texted me with an urgent message. She NEEDED my blogger password, I'd used the word "peak" instead of "peek" in a blog title and I'm pretty sure it was debilitating to her as one of those "smart" people. And so I did her a favor so she could move on with her day... I gave her the password. Two days later she texted again, she'd made some "changes" to my blog. All of it. Every post. It was weird, all the words were the same but suddenly I was a grammar genius (and genius was spelled right), it was paragraphed, italicized and yet still totally me. Hmmm... I said. I didn't set out to have an editor. I mean, what kind of blogger who's been writing for a month has an editor? Oh me, that's who.

So here I am, an ex-OCD clean freak whose post-kid-bedtime ritual once consisted of getting the house spic and span and then doing the whole thing over the next morning around 10 a.m. My mom nicknamed me the "White Tornado" as a teen and I took this title seriously into adulthood to a point of where it would consume me, this clean little house. And now I have this little baby blog I'm raising up and I think... wow...here's this "voice" who's bigger and funnier than me (yet, it's me!) and all I want to do is figure out who she is why she took so long to come out and play. I want to just sit down for once in my life and do something that feeds my creativity that's NOT sewing or throwing another party- because let's be honest, you can only throw so many parties a month, but you can blog anytime you want.

A few days ago, my family ended our 10-day road trip where I was on a marathon blogging spree, and I've had something like a bunch ton (I'm rounding up) of people who I don't even know tell me what a good writer I am, and that I should pursue it. I'd say I've had TEN people tell me to write a book. And I'm like, me? Like seriously... ME? I am so NOT a writer. I mean, don't writers read? Aren't writers smart? Like really smart, not "street smart." The only reading I do is on a few choice blogs and maybe 1 book a year, besides, The Good Book.

I am so out of touch with real writers that it's not even funny- well maybe it is funny actually. People ask me if we named our son after Cormac McCarthy, the author. Sometimes I lie... just to make myself feel smart. I mean, don't all smart people name their kids after other smart people, especially writers? I've got time to change his name story, he's only 4... done... Cormac McCarthy, I'll google him...

And here I have these people in my life who are like really smart, like my brother- The English Teacher and my best friend The UCLA English Grad, and so it's conflicting... like, do I, an ex Barbie designer with no Pinterest board labeled "DIY Book Shelves" because who am I kidding, my 5 books don't need a shelf... do I really pursue this blogging thing seriously...

Let's be honest, my blog isn't ranked, I'm still no one is this blogging world. But 300 people read one of my posts! Three Hundred People. One post + 300 + Me = Mind Blown. The fact that 300 people thought that one subject I wrote about was interesting (YES it was the one about chicken fried steak, your point?) Consider me smitten with all 300 of you.

And some of you are like, 300? I get 300 hits in 30 minutes. (Oh who am I kidding, no one with 300 hits in 30 minutes is reading this blog.) But maybe one day... maybe one day a year from now, even 2 years from now... someone who's someone will stumble upon this little post and say, "Hey- that idiot can write...her AP teacher should have encouraged her more, maybe she'd be able to spell genius then." (Damn my editor, she wouldn't leave it the way I spelled it there was an O involved.)

Obviously I love doing this, or else I'd have my Swiffer out at this very moment. So thank you, if you're taking some time out to read my blog. I mean, I didn't even post any pictures in this one... maybe I AM turning in to a writer. Sa-weet.

                                                                    xo Party or Die xo
                                                                              kenna