Ragged.

Planning a first birthday party is running me ragged.

Ragged.

I have been plotting this small party for three months now, and the to-do list just keeps getting bigger, not smaller.

I've designed invitations and addressed them all.

I've darkened the doors of Woodlawn's ghetto post office for stamps so I wouldn't have to wait in line for years at the Mountain Brook office.

I've been to Smith's at least 4 times for party supplies (cellophane bags, raffia, wrapping paper, gifts, invitations, etc.).

I've been to Party City.

I've been to Wal-Mart more times than I can count.

I've been to Publix.

I've been to Winn-Dixie.

I've been to K-Mart.

I've been to Target.

I have stocked my basement fridge to the point where I think it might explode.

I've cleaned our entire house and hand polished, yes, I said hand polished, all of our hardwoods.

I've sent Dow on a wild goose chase for red matting board so I can properly frame Liam's invitation to display.

I've ordered a Texas sized cup cake for the birthday boy.

I've ordered cookies with "1" on them.

ARE YOU TIRED, YET?

I've coordinated with my mom on Liam's big cake and strawberry cupcakes. I even drew the cake design on a napkin. I hope it is remotely close to what I wanted.

I (well, Dow) has put new straw, mulch and flowers in the entire yard.

I (well, again, Dow) has reorganized the basement so people don't call Hoarders on me when they see it.

I've bought a proper birthday party outfit for Liam with a birthday onesie for him to sleep in the night before.

I've made party favors.

I've bought new serving pieces.

I've decorated the house.

I've secured a highchair and video camera for use.

I've made sure my mom is picking up guest bathroom napkins.

I've ordered nuggets from Chick-fil-A and called about 10 times to confirm they will be ready Saturday morning.

I've bought a giant frog baby pool and a sprinkler. Dear God, it better not rain.

I've bought extra beach towels and sunscreen so no one is burned or cold.

I AM SO DAMN TIRED YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND.

And, the party is still a week away. I still have to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pick up the fruit (and slice it), and get ice, flowers and balloons. Oh, and set-up outside.

If I'm not actually at the party, it's because I've exploded.

Next year, Chucky Cheese here we come.

Morgan