My son will have his 6th birthday party tomorrow.  I have a shot at being sober for it this year... God willing.

That's not what I'm hear to tell you about tonight. 

When I was 5, I had the best birthday party ever.  My whole extended relation, my friends, neighbors - it really seemed the whole town was there to my happy hazel eyes.  It was an outdoor party at the park in town.  We spit watermelon seeds, bobbed for apples, had sack races... 100's of turns down the big whirly slide that was so special compared to our country parks tiny one.  I had so much fun I believe I was nearly drunk on icing and giggles.

I don't remember all of my birthdays, but I will always remember that... I hope.

I really wanted my son to remember his 5th forever too.  I planned to do some of those "old fashioned" games, added pin the tale on the donkey and made a pinyata from scratch.  Of course as the day went on... like always... things didn't go perfectly.  My first attempt at regaining the knowledge on how to make a pinyata that had been placed there more than 25 yrs ago was a little foggy.  I had to scrap it - google it - and start new with a more simple ugly version. 

The clothespins that I was going to have the children drop into a jar were a little gross from being outside a long time... they were quite old - and not perfect. 

The cake was fairly lopsided.  The donkey was too low to the ground.  My daughter then 2... very clingy due to being unsure of her world with a drunk mom... just a perpetuation in itself.   It seemed, as usual, I was out of control again... unable to live up to my perfectionistic ideals.

I made it until about 2pm.  That was quite good for me at this point in my disease.  I was near bottom here... not really even wanting to live most days... wondering how I could go on like this forever.  I didn't know there would be a way out for another 3 months.

So at 2pm I had my first glass of wine.  By 5 - when the party started, I was pretty smashed. 

My husband got home... by this time used to coming home to find me already half in the bag.  People started to arrive right away, and the house was filled with games and laughter... and I'm sure a few people wondering how I could possibly always be "so happy".  No one said a word.  Even to this day.

I wonder tonight, if they will expect the same this year - or even suspected anything in the first place.  I suppose what others think of me is none of my business ; )

And I wasn't "so happy" of course... and my son didn't enjoy his party.  Because I was drunk.   I was worried about it being perfect - and had every single defect of character in full blown riot happening that night... I blew it.  What it all boiled down to was this:  I was only thinking of myself.  How MY party had to be perfect, for ME to appear perfect, when actually, I was a crumbled sorry mess inside. 

I couldn't appreciate the miricle of his life, or let him feel how special he is to me that night, because I couldn't truly feel anything past my own selfish desires.  It had already been that way for 2 years.  He must have wondered where his real Mama had gone.  I did. 

With God's hand in mine tomorrow, I will be able to try again.  I've been given another chance at everything, and this party will go according to God's will - not mine.

The candles - the cake - the party whistles & balloons... they can bring a smile - but the moment my son and I get to say "that big guy is pretty cool, isn't He" will be the moment I can't wait for... just like it was today.  I dared to deprive my kids from knowing God... but not today.  How could I tell them they're a miricle - without Him?