First of all, let me address the party this weekend.

No, no, no, you crazy people. I did not host 20 6 year olds in my HOUSE. I am not that brave or organized. I would have had to, like, do actual party preparations. Jenny don't play that, yo.

Of course, I used to be all about the Martha Stewartesque parties, but that was before I woke one morning to discover I have three wild children with many wild friends, and began to wallow in the myriad excuses that said wild children provided. Also I hate cleaning, but can't use the kids for that excuse. It's not even really an excuse, more of a character flaw. I'm hanging my head in shame right now, Mom.

Anyway, we held the party at Pump It Up which was super-fun, and completely run by their employees. All I did was assemble some goodie bags (which I then stole Pop Rocks from) and pick up a Costco cake. A good time was had by all. I am totally having MY birthday party there. The End.

Anyhoo...

I had nightmares all last night, brought on no doubt by my late evening snack of beer and left over donuts. No, I'm not making that up. I was channeling Homer Simpson while I watched Desperate Housewives. The dreams were horrible, not in a gruesome way, but more in a deepest darkest fear, inability to stop the chain of events, slow motion mouth screaming "noooooooooo" type of thing.

Since my oldest was a tiny infant, I have had a recurring nightmare about somehow driving into a body of water and having to free her from a carseat and get to the surface. I always wake with my lungs bursting from holding my breath, tears of panic in my eyes.

Last night was a new twist - I was sitting in the passenger seat while my oldest drove - she was a young adult in the dream. She sped down a pier toward the water, and when I said "Stop!" she floored it and the car shot off the end of the pier into the water. Dark green water flooded the car and I fought to get free and to drag her from the rapidly sinking car. I shot awake to find that my ears had popped, my face was wet with tears and I was chilled to the bone, gasping to fill my lungs with air. It was terrifying. I contemplated blogging about it to allow my brain to reset before my head hit the pillow, but instead I took a few laps around the house, checking on the sleeping kids and drinking a glass of water.

Dreams are supposedly a mirror of what's going on in our psyche, but I think I can safely blame last night's festival of horrors on the beer and donuts. I'm never going to do THAT again.