Do you know that fragile moment when the house is perfect, but the guests haven’t yet arrived?

I had forgotten.

I haven’t been much of one for parties since kids.  I love girls’ nights out and wine night. I’ll serve on any board and go to any dinner that lets me escape the iron jaws of dinner and bedtime in my own house.  Oh I love them, but the final push of the night, the dinner and bedtime hour, is the downfall of many mothers’ patience and serenity. Slipping into a dark house with all of its little inhabitants nestled in angelic – silent – sleep is a treat on the same level as a spa day with deep tissue massage in my world.

Parties seemed a distant joke. Would we invite all our friends?  With their kids?  My god. That’s an incalculable number of sticky hands and spilled glasses and poor toilet hygiene.  Besides, what fun would I have with our kids awake and the torture of over-tired pajama wrangling hanging noose-like around my neck?  We are talking about a girl who let relatives and friends skip her wedding because children were not invited. Period.

After seven years, even I can change.  Yes, even anal retentive, children-included party adverse little me.  I grew weary of skipping celebrations because sitters are scarce and outings expensive.  We invited all of our friends and their children over on New Year’s Eve from 6 to 9.  A New York New Year’s Party.

Brace yourselves; I had a blast.  I had a hangover, but I had a blast.  Get this:  sticky stuff wipes up and our friends’ kids are great, even en masse.  I had a craft ready for them.  Shocking. I highly recommend the jewel stickers and small pre-cut wooden hearts and flowers at Joanne’s Fabrics.  We made broaches and they were a huge success.

We also had a fortune cake.  Do you know these? They are so much fun.  The idea is that each person pulls a charm from underneath (or baked into if you’re really brave) a cake.  The charm they pull tells their fortune for the next year. I found the perfect charms in a little artist town called Tubac outside of Tuscon.  Each child pulled a charm from under our stack-o-brownies and then we read their fortune for 2012.  I thought they might be bored, but they were so excited.

Quinn pulled the wolf charm, which was so perfect that it gave me chills. It’s almost enough to make you believe in protective totems and fortunes and spirits.

As 9 o’clock neared, we brought out the noisemakers and the sparkling juice and the champagne and had a countdown followed by a parade.  It was the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had in a long time.

My parents entertained a lot when I was little and I had forgotten.  I forgot the joy of getting dressed up in fancy clothes.  I forgot the magic of a perfect, still house, everything in its place ready for the guests to arrive.  The chilly, nervous excitement.  The delicious pain of a table full of food not to be touched until later. The thrill of staying up way too late.

I forgot until I saw my four kids, dressed in adorable finery, pressed to the front door in a line, their hot breath fogging the glass as they strained to see the first friends to walk through the gate.

I wish I could show you a picture, but I’m happy to say that I was living it too fully to pick up my camera.

(Once again, I’m so behind.  It’s Listen To Your Mother back in full swing nationally and in Spokane and more surgery and playdates and preschool registration and … and … and.  I have a lot to write, but I find myself mired in details.  Suddenly, ten days pass because I don’t have the perfect picture or the prettiest words.  So I’m going to write for a while without all the pressure.  Comments are closed – write me at anymommyoutthere@gmail.com. Any time.)