Life would be so much easier if Boots had just stuck to the plan four years ago.

He wasn’t supposed to be born until early July. I dreamed of a little Yankee Doodle  baby and smiled as I imagined how low-stress his birthday parties would be. Free fireworks, just add cake, ice cream and a few friends and you’re good to go.

Boots screwed that up, though, by showing up almost two weeks early. This year, his lack of foresight has created huge scheduling conflicts because his birthday lands smack in the middle of a week where the calendar’s so dotted with red I want to apply calamine lotion.

It’s also Big Guy’s last week of school, which means that instead of learning they’ll have four days of “fun” activities. Want to increase instructional time? Actually make them work the full 180 days. Kids don’t know the last week is a blow-off until school teaches them that.

And all those fun activities mean extra preparation and extra trips for Mom, particularly when there’s anything related to food.

In addition to the stress of wondering how I’ll survive the week – which is stupid, because we always manage to muddle through – I also have an uncharacteristic case of the dithers. It’s partly induced, I’m sure, from a desire to make everything super-wonderful because Dad won’t be here. As if finding the perfect pinata is going to make up for that.

The party won’t involve a lot of guests – just three little friends, but by the time you add their families and the guys’ mandatory cousins – we’re up to 20 people.

Even that wouldn’t be a challenge – not after planning a wedding reception for hundreds – except I cannot figure out where to throw this bash. It’s a classic case of paralysis by analysis. The more I think, the harder it is to just freaking decide already.

Back yard? The crispy brown look characteristic of this time of year isn’t there thanks to an unusually cool spring, but the back yard is where the pool is, and it’s not big enough for that many kids. Oh, and the patio’s a hazmat scene.

Front yard? Too many NASCAR wannabes flying around the corner, plus Boots’ birthday falls on a day that’s not our watering day, which means sprinkler play is out. It would be out until 6 p.m. under city water conservation rules even if it were our watering day.

In the house? That was workable for a much larger Valentine’s Day party, but the kids played outside part of the time. See previous objection to back-yard party.

Nearby park: Lugging all the party stuff and wrangle two kids? By myself? Forget it. Plus there’s no restroom at the nearest park. Big problem!

All of which is why the over-priced paper goods have been ordered and the invitations are ready except for two vital details: When and where.

If only Boots had stuck to the plan.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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