dinner party for twelve.

 

My husband mentioned to me a week ago that he wanted to get our family together for a dinner party. Within a few short days, our dinner party of six had quickly grown to twelve- my sweet husband kindly inviting a “few” more people.

In the past, this would have thrown me into a tailspin of stress and overwhelm. “I couldn’t cook. The house was a disaster. Yada yada.”

I will not lie to you and tell you that I was calm and wearing pearls as I cooked. No, instead there was definitely a few moments of me freaking out on my husband to help me clean up a bit, as I literally did not have the ingredients for dinner two hours before anyone was going to show up…

…and once that was settled, it was a whole lot of hair dancing (it’s a thing) and shaking my butt around the kitchen to Pitbull. I’m actually shocked we were able to be ready in time.

Something my sweet husband never thinks of when inviting people over for dinner is logistics around space and quantity of utensils (or plates for that matter).

Not to mention, we have six chairs. Twelve people…six chairs…yeah, math isn’t so hard on that one.(Thankfully about 50% of the invite list was our neighbors, and they were able to help with seating.)

As everyone poured into our tiny entryway (nine adults, three teenagers, two toddlers, and two 80-pound dogs), spilling into our tiny dining room and kitchen…I started to panic. “Our house is too small. Where is everyone going to sit? I hope everyone is okay with this!”  I felt overwhelmed with insecurity that we didn’t live in a massive house yet…that I didn’t have fancy dishware, or hell, even enough spoons that were all the same size.

That’s when Dr. Suess popped into my head…

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I realized that the point of the dinner wasn’t to show everyone how cool my house was or how fancy of a meal I could make (I made soup). These people were in my life because I believe that stuff doesn’t matter to them.

We stayed up way too late past our bedtime, playing games and roaring with laughter over the silliest things like recorders and even everyone’s definition of what hygge really meant to them.

The day was crazy and long, and I easily could have lost the moment throughout the night due to making sure everything was perfect…

…instead, with mismatched spoons, we relished in the hygge of the moment…no matter what our definition may be :-p

 

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