The Party to BEE Seen

This past weekend was obviously a big weekend for shenanigans, tomfoolery, and the like, and who didn't have a Halloween party to attend. Our son, Mr. Popular, was invited to two this year and I had the honor of accompanying him.... then, proceeded to not have any fun. What So EVER!

It's no one's fault, really. My son is just at that tender age where he's too big to just sit contently in my lap, but still too small to be left to wander unsupervised or hold his own in a bounce house full of "big kids".

The first party was just a little get-together put on by our moms' group, but the other one was a huge blowout that our friends throw every year for Halloween. Geared towards the kids and held in the middle of the day, it was the one that I was really looking forward to attending.

Our friends really get into the Halloween spirit. They do things like convert their garage into a haunted maze, rent a bounce house, and make tons of fun treats like "dirt in a cup".

I've always loved "dirt in a cup". There's just something so simple and wonderful about it. Quintessential childhood. Sigh!

Plus, I love seeing all the kids (and some of the adults) get dressed up for the party. Last year, my son was dresses as a lion and was barely crawling. So cute and so immobile, my son was awesome to take along to the party. This year... was something else.

First, my husband asked if he could skip the party to work on a project. Since he hadn't had much time to himself lately with me going on vacation with the girls, I cheerfully obliged and took our son to the party solo.

This year, my son was dressed as a bee and true to his costume, he spent the entire party tirelessly buzzing from place to place and poking his stinger... er, nose where it didn't belong. My job, as "bee keeper", was to follow him with his sippy cup in one hand, his plate of food in another, and his diaper bag slung across my body, only pausing to tell him, "No, don't touch that", to apologize to the people whose photo he just walking into, or to intercept potential disaster...

If you were over two and a half feet tall, I did not make eye contact with you as my undivided (un-multiplied) attention was directed at my son... AT... ALL... TIMES.

I did, however, notice some of the other mommies comfortably sitting in lawn chairs, sipping beers while happily chatting with one another. Occasionally, one of their kids would check in to say they were okay or ask for something, but for the most part, the moms appeared to be partaking in the "social" aspect of the party. I envied them. I REALLY envied them.

My son and I ended up leaving the party early because neither one of us was enjoying ourselves. My son was getting very cranky and, frankly so was I.

So, tell me... When does it get better? When can I talk to people again beyond, "Opps, I'm so sorry. He didn't mean to..."?

I had hoped for a better picture of his costume, but this is all the photographing Mr. Popular would allow. You'll just have to take my word for it when I tell you that he was just a-BZZZ-lutely adorable.