According to Alex, the party is a complete bust - it looked to me like it was going well, and everyone was having fun. Besides, the thing I remember about being a teenager at outside-at-night parties was just the wandering around outside in the dark with other people, the feeling of wild/free. But maybe it's not like that anymore. Or maybe Alex is over-wrought. Or something.
And my husband is totally anti-me now. Not sure what sins or series of sins I've committed this time, but apparently I don't babysit actively enough (I thought kids who were leaving for the armed forces next week, old enough to get married, etc., were old enough to have a small bonfire without a watchman) and poor John once again does all the work. ALL the work. While evil and lax me sits upstairs in my bedroom writing this. Yeah well. Must be difficult to be married to someone who just isn't up to one's standards and is such a constant disappointment.
And like not being 100% ready for this party, I find I just don't care about that either. I've done the whole mea culpa deal, done it to death, and I'm just not that into beating up on myself anymore. I'm learning, finally, to let go, to take what I need when I need it - food, rest, time, whatever - and be a little easier on myself. And if it doesn't suit, tough. We'll get by, or we won't, but either way it'll all sort itself out. All these people - guests and family members - know where the door is. Hope they don't let it hit them on their way out.
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