I'm insane, right?

Or maybe just sort of stoopid. Because the other week I sent out an Evite invitation to my daughter's eighth birthday party to FORTY CHILDREN. And their parents. And any younger siblings who want to come. The festivities are scheduled for this Friday evening ("At night!! At NIGHT!!!! she keeps reminding everyone).

This scheduled disaster is admittedly one largely of my own making. Allow me to explain by reviewing past birthday spectacles.

At five we went to a children's art studio, and I inadvertently made a cake resembling the Oakland Mormon Temple.

For six we went to a children's magic and comedy show (funny only to those under the age of seven or eight, which everyone who mattered was), and I pulled out the requested pirate ship cake.

See those canons firing out of the side of the cake? Skinny candles stuck in Rollos. I know, brilliant.

Last year for seven, Sophie generously agreed to scale things down a bit and invite only the girls in her class and a few other friends. The theme was Fancy Ladies' Tea. The girls decorated straw hats (a steady stream of cosmos convinced my girlfriends to stay and staff the glue guns); played freeze dance to the Scissor Sisters; dined on petit fours, miniature eclairs, and heaven knows what other small fancy things I whipped up; and smacked a pinata around. Partial amnesia has mercifully set in, but I do know that not a single piece of my MIL's Spode china was broken.

My sister claims that as kids get older, the parties get smaller, but we see no sign of this at the House of Figs. This year Sophie insists on inviting not only everyone in her K-1-2 class but everyone in 3-4-5 as well. Plus family friends. As much as I admire her generous little spirit and am happy that she does not want to exclude anyone, I almost threw up as I pulled the trigger on that Evite invitation.

So here's what we've got planned: Noticing how cool the little kids think the 6-7-8 class's dances are, I thought, why not have a dance for little kids? A regular disco inferno. Not at my house, of course. I'm borrowing the school's multipurpose room, I've got one of the dads who is a professional dj doing the music, and my spin teach is loaning me a real disco ball. I'll feed the kids a little pizza, have some dancing, serve some cake, and then they can all go home. 

You would think from my past birthday extravaganzi that this would be a walk in the park. But I'm a believer in what doesn't kill you can drive you slowly insane, and my mental status is clearly on the decline. A few wheels have come off the cart since those previous parties, and I've been slooooooooooooowly losing it a little more each year. By the time Sophie is in college I should be licking walls.

Nevertheless, I'm going to try to pull my ass together enough to crank out this year's cake. Thank goodness she did not request a "theme cake" but asked for "just a birthday cake." A really fancy one, of course. Fine. I let her choose from between these two:

She chose the jellybean cake, which is good because you can sort of imagine the frosting disaster the other one could turn into. Especially with the icing bag in my shaky hands.

Did I mention that I'm sick? Woke up in the middle of the night with a sore throat. Oh, well. Should be easier than the three-year-old party when I had pneumonia. The party will go on, but wish me luck!