It's Friday night, and once again, my only companions are my three kids. Eddie is probably somewhere over Colorado right now, since he's making the world's fastest trip to Weiser, Idaho for his grandpa's funeral (thanks in advance for your sympathies, but, truth be told, his grandpa was almost 98 and had Alzheimer's, so his peaceful death in his sleep was a very good thing). Anyway, I decided to take the kids to the annual ward chili cook-off and hoedown (it is Texas, after all), having obviously forgotten my last experience with a ward party.
So I spent the afternoon making a perfect batch of chili (three kinds of beans, three kinds of peppers, two kinds of meat and a bunch of other fancy stuff), dressed the kids in perfect hoedown clothes, fed the kids grilled cheese (we're still working up to having them eat chili in public), and took off.
The church looked awesome-- huge bales of hay, checkered tablecloths, a "campfire" steaming in the middle of the gym and tons of people dressed up in their country best (you would not believe the cowboy hats and boots in this ward!). I felt hopeful, and then it began:
Bryce has reached the age of running around the church and wrestling with his friends. I loathe this stage-- and have always grumped under my breath about the parents who let their kids run wild. I kept telling him to stay by me, but I guess his friends were more persuasive than his parent and he ended up sneaking off every time I turned my back. I'd chase him down, bring him back, and then lose one of the other kids. He ended up in time-out, sitting at the table of old people who took pity on me and sat with him while I dealt with....
Annie, who was having a rough night. Actually, I was sort of glad to have her seen in the midst of an hour-long meltdown at the party, because I constantly hear about how adorable and perfect she is and I often feel like I'm raising a Dr. Jekyll/Miss Hyde. Tonight, she was channeling Hyde, sobbing every time a friend walked by and "snubbed" her (since the room was wall-to-wall bodies I doubt she was being ignored), lying on the floor and kicking when I wouldn't pick her up, and begging for a root beer float. I could only help her so much, because my eagle eyes were on....
Isaac, who was enchanted by the "campfire" which was actually dry ice. He kept wanting to touch it, and since one of the little kids had already burned himself on the stuff, I didn't want my kid to follow suit. So I'd pick him up, try to get him involved in something on the other side of the room, and he'd dash back to the campfire as soon as he could. Oh well, at least I knew where he was.
Otherwise, the party was pretty predictible. The bishop, judging the chili contest, picked his wife's chili as the winner. I sat at a table with four older couples, who joked about how the room sounded almost as loud as sacrament meeting. Friends chatted, and I felt like I was on high alert the whole time.
After 67 minutes, I'd had enough. I had bolted my bowl of chili and spent more time engaged in the aerobic exercise of chasing than I did running in the neighborhood this morning. One of the sweet older ladies at my table helped me pack up my chili and my brood and get them in the car.
So instead of square-dancing and socializing, I'm spending the night curled up with my laptop, my bowl of ice cream, and a good book. Truth be told, I think I prefer it this way-- it's so much less work!
--originally published 8/25/06
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