Tomorrow I’m hosting a play date for anywhere between 3 and 17 kids. I do love an open invitation, but I might regret the idea by tomorrow afternoon. And like all logical people who has a baby who rarely naps, two kids who are now home from school and being creative all over the living room, and a messy house, instead of preparing for this event, I am sitting down with a cup of coffee to write. I may have a problem with prioritizing.

I’m not sure why playdates are not an easier thing to pull off.  I mean, it’s just inviting kids to come over and play with your kids.

Well, there are kids coming over. That means everything that isn’t kid friendly that your kids know not to mess with or are not interested in, has to be removed, hidden, vacuumed, or actually put where it belongs. Also, through the whole thing, you have to deal with kids who aren’t usually in your house. And they might be terrified of your dogs. Or they might terrorize your chickens.

And kids come with moms. This is great if your kids’ friends’ moms are cool like you. Or if they’re your BFFs. Or if you have no shame. Or if you have an immaculate house. Or if they’re blind and also can’t smell. But they will need a place to sit down, and water and maybe a snack.

That means food. With all the food sensitivities, allergies, and fears of GMO, BPA, FDA, FBI, etc., it’s really hard to find something acceptable for your guests. Muffins? Gluten. Cheese sticks? Dairy. Fruit snacks? Red 40. Cupcakes? Sugar. Nope. Nope. Nope. I’ve said, “I’m going to cut up apples and offer water and coffee; bring a sack lunch if you want to eat here, because I’m not fancy.” I’m not sure if that’s simplicity, pragmatism or just rude, but it’s about all I can muster.

Fortunately the pink bathroom in the hall is decent. (We have two bathrooms, the Pink bathroom and the Blue bathroom. The house was built in the 80’s in Dusty Rose’s heyday. I peeled the bathroom wallpaper off years ago, but its octagonal tile is still decidedly pink. The other is tiled in Country Blue. We bought the house with its original Rosy carpet. Oh, it was fabulous.) But at least there is toilet paper in there. The girls are now in charge of cleaning that bathroom, which means they are finally not leaving the hugest globs of toothpaste all over the counter. Rather they’re smeared across it in attempts to wipe it up. I’m so glad I’ve delegated that task. They’re learning.

I’m going to make banana bread because I like it and it will use our browning bananas. And I’ll hide (throw away?) all the thousands of papers that came home from school last week. And I’ve decided I won’t get the mail until after everybody has gone tomorrow, so I have fewer papers to make decisions about. And I’ll make sure we can make a path through the living room into the back yard. And the rest of my energy is going to be focused on having fun and my kids having fun with their friends.

Because play dates are about playing and friends. And honestly, most of my friends are my kids’ friends’ moms, and nobody is coming to see how neat I can keep my house in the first weeks of summer, with a new baby. Why we make the appearance of our living areas about our own self worth, I may never understand, but we do it to ourselves.

We come to visit, to play, to laugh. Play dates are about the moms anyway. We look at each other over our kids’ heads and say, in not so many words, “We’re in this together. You’re not alone. You’re doing a good job.”

In the meantime, the girls are playing with Tinker Toys, making swords and having a Narnian battle. We’re making no progress on the house, but we’re also having fun. It is summer, after all.

Baby is crying. It was a pretty short nap. At least I settled my expectations. And that’s a pretty big deal. I also enjoyed my whole cup of coffee.