Ten years of two

I did something the other day I swore I’d never do.

No, I’m not talking about voting Republican or driving through downtown Gainesville. I’m talking about something truly embarrassing and unworthy of a former punk queen who hung out in Ybor City before they installed street lights.

I put together 77 of my children’s photos for a tear-jerking slideshow commemorating their tenth birthday with an Aerosmith song in the background.

In my defense, though, it could have been worse. The pictures could have featured me in curlers or support hose, either kid on the toilet during his first poop or something equally tragic, all while Celine Dion moaned, “…because you loved me.” At least Aerosmith was cool at some point and none of the band members speak French.

Still, I recognize this display of sentiment is nothing to be proud of, and yet I did it anyway. Nice to know I haven’t changed much since the days when I dedicated Careless Whisper every night on Q105 to whichever boy smiled at me in the halls that day.

Where was I? Oh yes, responsible parenting.

Five hours I won’t ever get back spent combing through ten years of pictures, editing, cropping and emailing the chosen “few” to my brother in five picture increments to be put in a slide show and played at their birthday party over the weekend.

It took homeboy seven minutes, tops, to upload the pictures into a program on his Mac, flip a switch and let magic take care of the rest. Nevertheless, he gave himself credit at the end.

Great.

My mother can tell everyone how wonderful her son is while completely overlooking the fact that I’m the one who did all the work.

Junior high all over again.

The birthday party was supposed to be just a few of my sons’ friends at Gameworks, running around like animals until they threw up or got kicked out, whichever came first. We picked a rock-n-roll theme and encouraged everyone who wanted to bring a gift to contribute to the boys’ bourgeoning music collection.

Some people ask for donations to help save the rain forest. I figured out a way to get free AC/DC box sets.

The guest list quickly grew out of control. Family poured in from all over the country to attend my niece’s christening so I made sure they were included in our gathering as well. Friends caught wind of the event and requested invitations. Even childless pals were interested once they heard there was a smoking section and open bar.

We wound up with a roomful of relatives and friends who depleted the joint of Bloody Mary mix before our event even began. The rock-n-roll themed cakes were a hit, but looking through two dozen CDs with parental advisory stickers, like an overanxious Tipper Gore, cemented my reputation as no longer cool.

“Did the boys like our gifts?” a friend asked.

“I need a receipt,” I barked. “These kids repeat everything they hear and Add It Up wouldn’t go over well at their Jewish school.”

Another crisis occurred at the end of the party, when we were told politely to grab our coats and haul ass because the bar was running out of Bud Light. Several parents and children were playing games so different (read: sober) family members grabbed what they could and moved downstairs.

Two coats got misplaced.

I don’t want to start a debate about over-privileged children, but one of the parents panicked because her daughter’s Prada coat held an iPod, cell phone, blackberry and Gameboy. Then my uncle couldn’t find his jacket, but he only had three lottery tickets inside so I had to announce,

“Windbreakers are not a priority!”

My mom found out about the search mission and almost caused a scene.

“The coats will turn up,” Dad told her. “It’s too soon to talk about indicting the wait staff.”

Sure enough, Husband found the coats and everyone cheered him over another round of Bud Light, sending the manager into full-on panic mode. Speaking of indictments…

Later that night, while lying in bed, I made Husband promise to talk me out of any future birthday events. Then my brother called to remind me I didn’t play his video and what the hell, Katie, was all that work for nothing?

His video.

I maintain that birthday parties should really be a celebration of the parents. I could use some new CDs and would enjoy an endless supply of pizza and attention.

I’d want something better than Bud Light, though.