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Archive for November, 2009

the upshot

PP and her friends are so freaking adorable.

All the kids who rsvpd came. No one who didn’t rsvp showed up. There were games, including Cat Tails which was new to me but a huge hit and a big recommendation if you’re ever looking for a good burn-out-the-excess-energy game for young kids. There was musical chairs, only with paper. There were little beadie things on lanyard hooks, penguins and earthworms, which turned out to be a bit too hard for the age group but the mums handled it fairly well (and how grateful am I that all but one of the mums stuck around this year?) and the kids seemed to like the end result, and it was a lot easier than the spongebob squarepants one I’d been planning to do with them which was even too difficult for me as I discovered Sunday morning two hours before the party was to begin.

Fun times.

The Ex managed to injure himself rather badly on Saturday so there was also some last-minute panic–will he be there, how will I get balloons if he doesn’t, how will PP handle it, how will I get it all set up? All came out fine in the end but Saturday was a lot more interesting and a lot less productive than I’d hoped.

There was a last-minute camera mishap when I realized Saturday night that the battery was dead and then put it in the charger and the charger didn’t recognize the battery and then I brought it to the store and their charger recognized it fine so they charged it for me, which has earned me huge loyalty points for them.

And there was cake, and presents, and little girls romping around in party dresses, and boys saying EWWW to pink gifts, and loot bags with frogs and “happy birthday” heat embossed on the front, and a little girl who was thoroughly tuckered out at the end.

And now there is a pile of packaging in the middle of my living room and leftover cake in the fridge.

And me, on the couch, trying to think about that article I have due tomorrow.

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rsvps = 7

Good thing I hadn’t bought the loot bags yet.

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rsvp count = 5

Two school friends, and three of her best non-school friends. Now I can breathe.

Five plus PP plus me plus her Dad plus another adult or two equals enough to put a dent in the cake and singĀ a decent version of Happy Birthday, so we are good.

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This talking-about-feelings stuff is a hard business.

PP and the Trader will be meeting–officially, not-by-accident–tonight over dinner. PP and I will be making spaghetti and homemade meatballs and she and the Trader can play with her toys while I do the bulk of the work, and I am excited and nervous, and the Trader is just plain nervous, and PP is scared, I think.

Last night I was reminding her of our dinner plans today while I tucked her into bed. She seemed pensive, so I took a stab in the dark.

M: It must be weird for you, to see Mummy having different boyfriends.

PP: (nodded, eyes getting wet)

M: Do you want to tell me how you’re feeling?

PP: I wish you stayed with the SA. I miss him.

M: I know. You were good buddies and had so much fun playing together, didn’t you?

PP: (nodding, crying a little)

M: It’s a hard thing. Sometimes … when you’re a grown-up, sometimes you just can’t stay together. But I know it’s hard for you. (Figured it best not to mention that we broke up primarily because of my concerns over his ability to be a stable adult in a house containing a child.)

PP: Can he come over and play with me sometime?

M: Well … he’s not talking to me right now, sweetie. But I hope that one day he and I can be friends again and you can play with him, because I know you would like that. (Cursing the SA internally for breaking his promise to me to stay friends for her sake.) We’ll see, ok?

PP: OK.

M: But I want you to know that it’s got nothing to do with you, he’s just upset at me, OK? And I want you to know that I think you will like the Trader, but you don’t have to, and you can tell me if you don’t. And if you do like him it doesn’t mean you have to stop liking or missing the SA.

PP: Because it’s ok to like different people.

M: That’s right. I’m trying hard to make this easier for you, kiddo, but I know it’s got to be hard sometimes.

PP: (nodding)

It’s been almost a full calendar year, Dear Readers, since PP saw the SA. They played together a total of five or six times over nine months. And she still misses him enough to cry sometimes.

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rsvp count = 3

Whew.

Three is at least enough kids to fill a table and play a game. And I’m still hoping for another one or two, at which point I can relax altogether.

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more panic

The Ex and I had a decent conversation about the party and our concerns about her social life.

And this was after I finally got him to commit to a holiday schedule, so hurray. I know what days I will be taking off and when I will have PP, which will make the whole making-plans thing so much easier.

Apparently we are both worried that the size difference is now coming home to roost, so to speak; PP has not been talking to her father either about friends at school, except for the same one or two I occasionally hear about (and who also have not rsvp’d). And she over-reacts to mentions of her height, too, in that if the girlfriend’s son mentions in passing that he’s taller in a relevant context, she becomes upset.

Who likes being different at that age? And she wears glasses and her parents are divorced, and I already know she doesn’t talk about that with her friends.

So. The Ex and I had a preliminary conversation about it, and I’ve left a message for her teacher who hopefully will call me back and I’ll talk to him about his perceptions–recent though they may be, and I think PP and I need to have another talk, though gods only know if she’ll tell me anything more than she has already.

There is one little girl in her class I will call by her actual name, in part because it’s common and in part because I despise her: Vera. PP will talk to her sometimes when we run into her on our way home from school, and Vera will pointedly ignore her, and then say to her mother that “PP is NOT my friend.” With a smirk on her face. I want to punch her in the nose. The mother, of course, does nothing. I want to punch her in the nose, too.

But PP still refers to Vera as her friend, and wanted to invite her to the party.

So my mind is taking this one bit of info and using it to construct an entire palace of paranoid fantasy. What if her class is full of Veras?

I still have a stomachache.

One rsvp. ONE. And she is such a lovely, loving little girl.

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