There are a few wrinkles in my Proverbs 31 apparel, but nothing needs more ironing than my motherly duty to provide birthday parties for the kids. I hate kiddie parties. I know I’ve already mentioned it, but some of you don’t read faithfully.

Not only do I not enjoy hosting them; I really despise attending them. If you’ve ever attended a Sponge Bob birthday party (bonus points if the kid is an only child), you know what I’m talking about.

The last birthday party I hosted was for my five-year-old. We decorated pencil boxes at the park for an hour, ate cake, and everyone went home. That’s my idea of a slam-dunk. So, when we arrived today at something that reminded me of an Annual Catholic Carnival, the guilt police seized my conscience.

There were hot dogs, face painting, a giant moonwalk-jumpy-thing, electronic bubble machines, a trampoline, confetti poppers, a piñata, and 17 game booths where you toss the beanbag and win a Mardi Gras necklace.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the pony rides.

I know I’m a cynic, but I’m a happy-go-lucky kind of cynic. The first hour I could think of nothing else but the contents of this book. I mean, where do we go from here? The kid is only five years old. I don’t want to be the one to tell her, It’s all downhill from here, baby.

But as I always say, when in California Rome, do as the Romans do. That’s why I levied a Mommy Tax on the piñata booty. One hot dog, two Cokes, three gummy worms, and four bites of princess cake later—and I was jumping in the Jumpy Thing.

I don’t make this stuff up.

I even did a cartwheel in the Jumpy Thing, which the kids got a kick out of. They were so over-amused that the only thing that would satisfy their sugar-spiked souls was a 29-year-old stay-at-home-mom doing flip tricks in the Jumpy Thing. And falling on her head.

Yeah, they liked that part.

I felt like I was feeding the appetites of future reality-TV and talk-show consumers: people who get their kicks out of watching the demise of others. But, hey, I’ve got a sense of humor and all. I can deal.

Just be easy on me when I don’t do The Birthday Bash with my kids. I’ve got a sore head. Yeah, that’s my excuse…

I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind.