Party at Finding Normal
Went to a Pampered Chef party at Shelley's house last night. Let me just say, I've been to my fair share of Pampered Chef parties, but this one was by far the wildest. Usually, it's just a bunch of young to middle-aged women sipping coffee politely, talking about how they know the hostess and gushing over their baking stones. I stopped going to these things a few years ago, once I had bought everything on the cheap end of the catalog (guilt buying, for eating the hostess's cream cheese finger rolls for the evening.) I have the apple wedger, the orange peeler, the Sudser, the boil-over control and the bamboo tongs. Granted, except for the Sudser (which broke a week later), all were very good purchases. But I started feeling pressure to buy one of those dadgum baking stones ("Oh, you must get a baking stone. I use it for everything." "Yeah, lady, but I don't cook." "But you would if you had a baking stone!")
But I decided to attend this Pampered Chef shindig for my dear friend, Shelley, and even prepared to buy something substantial so she could earn some free stuff.
Again, definitely the wildest. I was the only one there who hasn't been motherized yet, and I spent the majority of the time sitting back and taking in the madness and fearing for my life. (I was already freaking a little from Tigger's post about the trials of motherhood.) The party had four blonde toddlers, a fussy newborn and a large dog named Lucy whose tail is a lethal weapon. The poor soft-spoken "chef" had no chance. We pretty much nodded at her from time to time and then ate all of her food.
Some of the more humorous and/or crazy events of the evening:
1) Sadie (Blonde Toddler #1) suddenly appearing out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear, without a stitch of clothing except her diaper.
2) One friend tiredly informing the group that her daughter (Blonde Toddler #2) had just ran off with someone's cell phone and keys. Ho ho, I thought, until the friend mentioned that it was a pink cell phone. Okay, that would be me. The friend continued calmly sipping her coffee, while I had visions of Chinese telephone numbers appearing on my monthly statement. Finally, I sneaked away and found it on the floor, covered with something gooey.
3) Blond Toddler #3 shrieking "Mommy!" in panic every five minutes or so, even though her mother was sitting directly beside her.
The main thing I noticed was how every mother took the chaos in stride. I felt paralyzed, but it seemed perfectly normal to every other woman there. One neighbor mother suddenly hoisted screaming Blonde Toddler #4 over her shoulder, mid-sentence, took her next door to give to Husband, and came back and promptly rejoined the conversation. Ice on coffee table? Coffee on floor? Cream cheese smeared on Kong-bearing dog? Not a problem.
The only other person who seemed slightly dazed was my friend, Erin. But I think that was mainly because she has a nine-week old at home and I think that most women with nine-week olds are dazed.
But I decided to attend this Pampered Chef shindig for my dear friend, Shelley, and even prepared to buy something substantial so she could earn some free stuff.
Again, definitely the wildest. I was the only one there who hasn't been motherized yet, and I spent the majority of the time sitting back and taking in the madness and fearing for my life. (I was already freaking a little from Tigger's post about the trials of motherhood.) The party had four blonde toddlers, a fussy newborn and a large dog named Lucy whose tail is a lethal weapon. The poor soft-spoken "chef" had no chance. We pretty much nodded at her from time to time and then ate all of her food.
Some of the more humorous and/or crazy events of the evening:
1) Sadie (Blonde Toddler #1) suddenly appearing out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear, without a stitch of clothing except her diaper.
2) One friend tiredly informing the group that her daughter (Blonde Toddler #2) had just ran off with someone's cell phone and keys. Ho ho, I thought, until the friend mentioned that it was a pink cell phone. Okay, that would be me. The friend continued calmly sipping her coffee, while I had visions of Chinese telephone numbers appearing on my monthly statement. Finally, I sneaked away and found it on the floor, covered with something gooey.
3) Blond Toddler #3 shrieking "Mommy!" in panic every five minutes or so, even though her mother was sitting directly beside her.
The main thing I noticed was how every mother took the chaos in stride. I felt paralyzed, but it seemed perfectly normal to every other woman there. One neighbor mother suddenly hoisted screaming Blonde Toddler #4 over her shoulder, mid-sentence, took her next door to give to Husband, and came back and promptly rejoined the conversation. Ice on coffee table? Coffee on floor? Cream cheese smeared on Kong-bearing dog? Not a problem.
The only other person who seemed slightly dazed was my friend, Erin. But I think that was mainly because she has a nine-week old at home and I think that most women with nine-week olds are dazed.
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