Hostess with the mostest

There’s a little known fact about me that sometimes rules my entire life – I have extreme hosting anxiety. I mean insane hosting anxiety. I’ll never forget Stealth’s 1st birthday party here at the house. I called in reinforcements to help set up the cake, etc., while I lemon oiled the cabinets and baseboards. I will never forget my mother saying, “It’s good enough,” and me screaming, “GOOD ENOUGH IS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH, MOTHER!!” The first time my father came to visit and meet B, I didn’t sleep at all the night before because I was up cleaning grout with a toothbrush. Don’t even ask me what I’m like when B’s boss drops by…

I have done several things in attempt to get this under control. I make lists – countless lists – detailing what needs to be done, what needs to be bought, what needs to be cleaned, what needs to be thrown away, what needs to be polished, what needs to be hidden, etc. I plan, I organize, and I attack. I realize that folks most likely won’t notice the smudge behind the door that won’t budge or the fact that there are only 8 clean, folded towels in the bathroom when there should be 10 to fill the space evenly, but I also realize that should anyone ever notice these things and comment on it, I might just drop dead on the spot. Anything could happen – you just never know.

I’ve spent the last 5 hours scrubbing my house in anticipation for company that is coming – well, if you call my best friend, JP, company! In the 9 years that we’ve been parents (pregnancy included,) we’ve never spent more than 2 hours together without men or children. INJUSTICE! I have taken the kids to her house multiple times and stayed over night (2 women, 5 kids) while leaving our men to go camping or hiking or plumbing or butt scratching or whatever they do, but we’ve never had time to ourselves. Tomorrow night, it all changes. B is taking my kids to her house, she is coming here. We’ll be having 24 uninterrupted hours of woman time! WOOT!

Pretty damned exciting, eh? Yeah, well, it sparked my anxiety and all I’ve been able to do for the last 3 days is make lists and prepare. Today I have dusted every surface of my house, including vacuuming each and every ceiling fan. I have polished glass, scrubbed toilets and showers, washed shower curtains, cleaned baseboards. I have vacuumed the upholstered furniture (even removing the pads and getting all the gunk out from between the cracks.) I have swept, vac’d, and mopped the entire upstairs with Murphy’s Oil Soap so it’s clean and smells yummy. I’ve obsessed over my cabinets in the kitchen. I have cleaned windows, my microwave, my oven and mud room and the inside of my fridge. I have already packed the kids’ suitcase – needing only to add toothbrushes tomorrow. All that’s left to do tomorrow is to strip my bed and wash each and every layer – from mattress pad to duvet. Makes me wish I had two washing machines.

I don’t know why I’m like this, I only know that I am. I also know that I’m not alone – lots of people have this anxiety that expresses itself differently. I know of one person who copes by obsessing over beverages. At any given point, she will spend $200 on beverages because she’s afraid someone will want something to drink and she won’t have what they want. Ha! At least my compulsion is cheaper. 😉 Regardless of what malfunction in my brain makes me tick like this, it’s how I am, how I’ve been for ages, how I most likely will always be. I suspect there are worse things. I could be a total slob! <<<<Shudder>>>>

I’m going to try to relax and not obsess anymore for this visit. I’m granting myself my own little Independence Day – I hereby declare myself independent from my dust cloth and mop. Sweet Elvis on Velvet, I hope it works. Have a great holiday, folks! Blow some stuff up, be grateful to be free, and never ever comment my baseboards or you might see some real fireworks – I’ve heard a conniption fit bares a striking resemblance.