I Am Paranoid

I don't think I'll be able to get away with not writing about Kiyomi's ice skating birthday party this past Sunday. Because knowing Kiyomi, this will be the scene fifteen years from now:

There she'll lay on the couch, head resting on a stack of her unemployment checks, dragging on her third cigarette of the morning while nursing a scotch in her other hand. Her numerous tattoos will be visible beneath her tank top and her belly ring will glisten brightly, as if to mock me. She's waiting for her boyfriend to show up, but, being on the lam, he'll be late again since travel usually involves some form of public transportation and a ride from one of his ex-wives. While she waits, we talk, and this surprising revelation comes to light.

"You know, it's all your fault." She stubs her Marlboro out on my new Ikea Hällskär rug. She really knows how to push my buttons.

"What's my fault? Don't blame me for that infected navel piercing. I told you not to let your father do it."

"No, all this. My life. My angst. Good God! Are you blind, woman? The snub? My seventh birthday? My ice skating party that you were too busy to write about in your blog, when Kira's freakin slumber party got all that ink? I mean, five whole entries about her goody-two-shoes sleepover, and you couldn't write one sentence, ONE DAMN SENTENCE about my special day? That was the beginning of the end for me, I tell ya. I never got over it. Never. Now if you'll excuse me I've got someone outside waiting for me that really cares. Don't wait up - Willy Bob's takin me to meet his parents. And they have real furniture, from Wickes. None of this cheap Swedish crap."

SEE WHAT I MEAN??!!

So, the ice skating party! This was the third of Kiyomi's birthday celebrations. By now most of you are familiar with this family's penchant for over-celebrating every event, be it a birthday or a new coat of paint on the garage. It started with a small celebration with her classmates before school let out, followed by a dinner for seven on the actual day of her birthday. Next up will be our family party, where she will celebrate with Rigel's and my families and be showered with yet more gifts and cash monies.

Rigel and I thanked the righteous birthday gods that Kiyomi had given up the idea of a slumber party in favor of some icy merriment. Of course, while not having the party at our house saved us from all the laborious planning and clean up duties, it did involve the passing of numerous large bags of money and one of my kidneys to the ice skating party committee. (Although I have trashed a mom before for revealing to me the cost per child of her daughter's bowling party, I must say now I feel your pain, sister!) On top of the basic fees they charged for the party room, cake, and skate rentals, they begged us for more money for pizzas, a veggie platter and skating lessons and we obliged, because they guaranteed Kiyomi would hate us if we didn't spring for the total party experience. (Because really, people, what's an ice skating party without a veggie platter? A colder, darker hell I cannot imagine.) It's a blur now, but I think the total came to around $8500. We've decided that next year, to save money we will take Kiyomi and all her friends to the Ritz Carlton for a weekend of catered room service meals and a private in-room performance by Cirque du Soleil. I will buy each child a pony as a party favor.

But there I go, being such a party pooper! And my God, don't we sound cheap! Because really, the party was a huge success and none of her friends wanted to leave, they were having so much fun. We got to hang out with a few of our friends who stayed to watch their kids skate, and we had fun, too, despite the absence of an open bar. And when all was said and done, Kiyomi told us it was the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. Please tell her that you read all about it here, August 5, 2005.


Kiyomi and her peeps taking an ice skating lesson

Archive File: Offspring | Family

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