The party went so well, in spite of our home being filled to capacity on the hottest day of the year. Our air conditioning unit was not equal to the task of cooling the house, I ran out of food and the crowd was double what I had planned for. It was a recipe for disaster, but it somehow was truly wonderful. For years I have feared masses of Tim’s relatives I am plunged into at weddings and graduation parties and birthdays. Being a WASP in the Moonstruck world that can be his family overwhelms and terrifies me in most cases. Last night though, as the aunts and uncles and grandmother and cousins filed into our steamy home I was so happy that Josie had so many people that think she is as awesome as I do. We have Josie in common now, and I’ve finally become accustomed to the head-grabbing and kissing. My poor sister though, is another story. She braved the long journey and heat and a sick baby and what did she get in return? Approximately three million random Italians kissing her. Poor thing. She was a little shook up about the whole thing.
Towards the end of the party I put Josie in her highchair in the middle of the room, and let all three million guests stare at her, which she thought was about the best idea ever. She preened and waved, and then we all sang to her and gave her cake. She wore her hat without complaint, clapped, obliging smashed the photo-op cake and generally behaved like a sit-com baby the whole night. Really, it generally takes a set of identical twins to portray a child as good-natured as that little girl is. I have no idea what I did to be so unbelievably lucky.
