My son's party is over and this morning I feel like several steamrollers smushed me into the mud... then backed over me for good measure.
Truth be told, I believe everyone had a lovely time--plenty of squeals and shrieks emanated from the munchkins who raced around our backyard trying to vie for each other's attention and approval.
Unfortunately, I (as hostess) spent the least time with the guests. It seems as if that happens more and more. Ironically, I did less this year in terms of prep work than I have for my little guy's previous parties. But I still found myself inside the house instead of on the deck. I have to work on being more "available" next year.
In the midst of the swirling tornadic activity, I wrote. I wrote Friday all day, I wrote Saturday morning before getting ready for the party, and I'm writing now. It's a never ending game of tag--snag a job, get it done, take a quick breath, tackle the next project.
Maybe writing IS "child's play", after all.