The First and Only Surprise Party I’ll Ever Throw

In late Spring, I got a great idea, a “flash of brilliance,” really. The idea was to throw a surprise party for my Dad’s 50th birthday party. I figured that living two hours away would present a few minor difficulties but, in the end, it would be okay. My brother lives 20 minutes from my parents and we have various family members in and near the area who could run errands as necessary. I figured it would be a wonderful experience.

And it was. But, oh, surprise parties are difficult.

You see, in order to get my Dad off of The Farm, we had to create a story about his two brothers owing one another a golf game due to some bet that one lost to the other regarding some sports game. We threw FireDad into the golfing mix, making it his first official golf outing with the men in the family. Surprisingly, my Dad didn’t even raise an eyebrow. (To be fair, the party was thrown the weekend before his party so he really wasn’t suspicious.) The problem, however, was that we sent away four very helpful men; four very helpful men who usually put in a lot of work on big family party days. Cue panic!

My Mom had a mini-meltdown with about two and a half hours left. To be fair, I was also kind of worried but I figured that two hosts panicking wouldn’t really result into anything resembling a put-together party. So, I switched into Super Hero mode, kicked her out of the kitchen and took over the coffee, tea and pierogies. (And clean up.) Somehow this worked though I was really just flying by the seat in my pants by assuming that she needed someone to take over the kitchen. Eventually we were ready. And minus a random yellow jacket sting to LittleBrother’s cheek, the party went off without a hitch. My Dad was surprised. My children were well-behaved. And everyone said that they party was lovely.

But I’m still exhausted. I told my mom that we’ll throw her a known-about party so that all people involved are available to help set up. Also, I don’t have many pictures from the party because chasing my almost two year old and almost four year old around while hosting a party is difficult. At best. But we had so much fun. Ate too much food. And celebrated the best Dad on the face of the Earth. And the best Papau to two little boys. (Although only one is pictured because LittleBrother was snuggling his Daddy and being checked out regarding the yellow jacket sting. It’s good to be married to a fire-medic, no?)

I’m so glad that we followed through with this idea. And that I can finally talk about it. I’m not good at secrets or lying or basically anything that a surprise party entails. Did I mention that I’m exhausted?

Happy 50th, Dad! You were worth it all!

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