Thirty- something speaks
Hitting the party circuit

Mike Maddock

This partying lifestyle of mine is just about to wear me out. I went to three parties a couple of weekends ago and another two parties the weekend after that. It's exhausting, and I don't think I can keep up with this frenetic pace. Maybe I could hang back in college, but I'm nearly 40 now, and my body just can't take it anymore.

I need to rest, but the invitations just keep coming. Of course, these invitations aren't exactly to me and the only hangovers are coming from a mixture of heavily iced birthday cake, Capri Suns, ice cream, and blow- up bouncy houses. It turns out my four- year- old son is the real party animal, and usually I'm just tagging along for the ride. If it's not his own party then it's one of his buddies throwing a bash at the Little Gymnast, Leapin Lizards, McDonalds, or any number of favorite four- year- old hang- outs.

I'm ready for the simpler life, and my son is the John Belushi of pre- school. He never met a party he didn't like. He's not screaming "Toga! Toga!" yet, but he will scream if birthday candles are lit on a cake, and he's not there to help blow them out. He can't exactly drive himself to these parties, so I have become his personal party chauffeur. I'm kind of like Bitterman from the Arthur movies that starred Dudley Moore. I drive my son from bouncy house to trampoline to playground while he's either babbling some incomprehensible nonsense brought on by a sugar- induced euphoria, or he's passed out cold drooling on his car seat unable to fight the inevitable sugar crash. Either way it's kind of funny. One minute he's the Tasmanian Devil and the next minute he's Droopy the Dog.

He's having fun though, and that's what counts. He may not remember a single bounce or any cake decorated like a Disney movie, but I'll remember the endless giggles emanating from him and his buddies, plus the fact my son actually preferred to have me around. I don't know how long that will last so I'm going to soak it in, even if I miss an opportunity to lounge on the couch an extra hour or two on a Saturday.

That's about all the partying I can handle though. I am ashamed to admit the pre- school party circuit is enough for me right now as evidenced by this last New Year's Eve. While Dick Clark and the boys were rocking out in Times Square, I was sound asleep stirring only slightly to the sound of an occasional firework blast outside my bedroom window. My wife and I toasted the New Year with a couple of glasses of Minute Maid and some pancakes.

My party circuit won't exactly make the gossip columns and I'm pretty sure the only celebrity I'll run into is Ronald McDonald, but I'm having fun and so is my son. I've just got to find something to do when his parties stop. Maybe I'll get a red wig and some big floppy clown shoes.

Mike@TheColumbiaStar.com