We've thrown a Christmas party every year we've been married (except for last year when the FPC got married in December and we threw a replacement St. Valentine's Day Massacre party in February, which was kick ass, if only because I got to dress up like a flapper) and I love everything about planning it except the RSVP situation. Every year I spend the weeks leading up to our party in various states of despair about no one showing up because for some reason People In General have this really annoying aversion to the words RSVP. This year, however, the Gods of Party Throwing took pity on my frustrated cries because DUDE. Practically everyone RSVPed and practically everyone was in. Which meant I spent the weeks leading up to THIS party in various states of despair over not enough space/not enough food.
I couldn't really do anything about the space, but I definitely went overboard on the food. I bought heaps and heaps of things for forty-seven different kinds of appetizers. I even ordered cupcakes and savory puff pastries from the FPC. I spreadsheeted and listed and strategized and timed and drew up an Order Of Oven Events which I had to hide from everyone lest they LAUGH.
I managed to get it all the food out ("I" in this case meaning "with the help of two sisters and at least two friends") in a timely-ish manner. And I thought it looked nice. It even looked edible, though I have no idea how anything tasted since I didn't eat a single bite. By that point none of it appealed to me. I was so tired of thinking about food and worrying about food and MAKING FOOD that I was all about my plastic cup of wine and being out of the kitchen. The thing was, I fully intended to refill the plates. I had more than enough (WAY more than enough) ingredients for several more rounds of bruschetta and flank steak and dips and all that, but... yeah. So the kitchen was constantly full of people, meaning not a lot of room to make more food, and (this is the real reason) I WAS HAVING FUN. Inconsiderate hostess! Bad party thrower!
Way back when I would have said that I liked hosting parties because I could be social while also having an escape. Like running into the kitchen to grill more bruschetta bread when I got overwhelmed by my ineptitude with small talk. But now I would say I like hosting parties because everyone who comes is my FRIEND and I get to talk to ALL OF THEM. What's happened to me?! Didn't I just write a cranky post about being introverted?! Did I really get frustrated at my own party because I didn't get to spend quality time with EVERYONE?!
ANYWAY. All that to say: I have tons, no really, TONS of food left over. I have enough booze to host five more years of Christmas parties. I have more wine than I started with. I still have boxes and boxes of cookies in my freezer and I have open bags of candy and I have nothing else to eat except party food because no one considered buying REAL groceries... I will be FORCED to eat cookies for breakfast! I bet the kids are going to be SO unhappy when I feed them M&Ms for lunch!
But next year? I think next year I am going to have the FPC cater the whole thing. I mean, I had to respond to ninety-five percent of the food compliments with, "Well, my SISTER made those, not ME" so why not? Also I live amongst a surplus of college students and I think some of them might like to make an extra couple of bucks passing trays of canapes and small bites between thirty-somethings who have to get home by eleven to relieve the babysitter. The more I think about this the more I think it is the best idea ever.
Also, I had a two-year-old sleeping on my bed the entire time. I made sure to make plenty of obnoxious comments about Appreciating What You Have to her parents.
Also, we picked up the kids from my parents' tonight and at 10:03 PM they are both still awake. Wah.
Also, my husband is a last minute grocery shopping, furniture moving, picture taking, whole house vacuuming, knows how to read a room SAINT.