Hello from my kitchen. Hello as I baby wear and sway on my rug in my new Hokas. Feet, is this enough cushion for you?

My daughter’s birthday is coming up, and I have named myself the producer of her birthday. Last year, her obsession was Batman. 10PM on Birthday eve I was hanging up black and silver crepe paper and fixing plastic bats to our walls. 

But, last year, the lead up to her birthday was problematic, and this year, I think it’s going to be even harder. Last year, every day she’d tell me she didn’t want a party. Then she told me she did. Then she told me she didn’t and she wasn’t going to go. Could I cancel the party, she’d ask. But then, minutes later: Mom, we’re still going to have a party, right? 

This year, she has a best friend. But, sometimes when we plan things with this friend, my daughter runs away and won’t let the friend get near her. “I don’t want to be her friend!” my daughter screams as I force a smile at her friend’s mom and hurry after my daughter with my big slow baby wearing self.

So, this year, how do I manage my daughter’s party in a way to insure her birthday is pure bliss? And, what do I get this mystery loving crafter who gets frustrated when her art supplies behave in unexpected ways—who, in an attempt to solve her aesthetic dilemmas calls upon me to fix the problem—me, who’s artwork started getting sent back in Kindergarten with notes from the teacher that read, “You can do better than this Anna.” Me, who’s drawings are reminiscent of something you’d see in the journal of someone who’s been institutionalized, maybe for murder, maybe for something else. A deeply disturbed person who’s never gotten life quite right. 

I try to copy the fairy that my daughter wants me to draw, sweating a little as I hold the pencil.

“MOM! This is all wrong! You’ve ruined it!” 

She runs to her room and slams the door, and it’s the baby and me. This scene has made our dog nervous so she jumps down from her spot on the couch and begins to lick the baby’s face as she gives me the side eye.

You aren’t getting this right, she seems to be saying. Let me help.