Puppy adoption party—the truth

There are two kinds of parties I host: the first is the kind where I know I am going to go overboard and I happily begin doing so two or three months in advance.  The second one is the kind where I just don’t feel like going overboard, so I don’t plan much until the week before the party, when I change my mind and stay up until midnight every night that week, going overboard.  This party was one of those.

Sometimes I think of all my ancestors who survived countless rounds of cholera and thypoid fever, survived plagues and famines, world wars, droughts and dust bowls, even survived a friggin’ ice age and how all of this has culminated in their descendant sitting up late into the night listening to Norah Jones while tying "pupcorn" dog tags to two dozen red Solo cups.  Sometimes I think I can hear them weeping.

To those who call me creative, I’d like to point out that I don’t have an original thought in me.  All the ideas you saw on yesterday’s post were lifted straight from the Internet. 

The doggie bags…

…were stolen straight from here:

The painted dog canvases…

…came from here:

(And no, I did not intentionally make one with vertical stripes–it was an accident and once I finished the painting and stepped back I said something like, "Oh, snap!”)

The medallions…the dog bone cookies…the cake…

From here.

(Seriously, if you want to see a puppy party done right, click that link!)

What’s more, all those people did it better than me and then took better pictures of it.

I guess I don’t have to steal all my ideas.  I could go rogue and just come up with something on my own, like my mom used to do.  See?  Here’s a picture of the pinata she made for my brother’s birthday 30 years ago.

Er…on second thought maybe I should stick to things that I find on Pinterest.

Kevin has finally stopped questioning some of the party prep I’m doing and has reached the acceptance stage.  He didn’t even raise an eyebrow when he saw me sitting outside Leo’s bath, coloring black lines on a dozen lunch bags with a Sharpie.

He did say, "You want me to do what to that box?  The roof has  to be pointed?"

And then 10 minutes later…"What?  Two more  just like it?  You’re joking, right?!"

Nope.  Not joking.  (I got carpal tunnel from spray painting them all, too.)

It just makes me so happy, crafting late into the night.  Sharpies!  Glue guns!  Pretty papers!  Strings, ribbons, clipart!  I love it all!  But I feel this manic urge to get it all done, and then do more—there’s so much more I could be doing!  I am equal parts joyous and irritable about all there is to do.  I’m joyitable.

So how does it feel to host a party like this?  I imagine it’s what binge eating feels like.  When I am making all the crafts I can’t get enough of it and I never want it to end.  I feel obsessive.  I wonder why I haven’t been making dog medallions on all those other nights of the year because this is the coolest and most important thing I’ve ever made!

Then the party happens and it’s fun!  I have a great time and all the kids who were lucky enough to get puppies do too!

But then it ends and afterwards I feel kind of guilty, fairly sheepish, and somewhat confused.  What just happened?  Where am I?  Why does everyone look a week older?  Why is my house covered in dog medallions?  What crazy person did this to my home?!

That’s when I decide that for the next kid’s birthday, we’ll just order pizza, pick up a Costco cake, maybe get some helium balloons, and call it good.

And the the next kid’s birthday rolls around and…

‘Til then, my friend.  ‘Til then.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Going out!