When I was about twelve years old I told my mom that when I was a grown up, I’d never, ever have people over to my house for a party.
My mom, the friendliest, most gracious hostess in the history of hostessing, asked why I felt that way.
I muttered that I wouldn’t know what to feed people and I wouldn’t know how to get people to talk to each other and I wouldn’t know what to have them do and what if everyone had a horrible time?
She laughed at me kindly and told me that I’d probably feel differently when I was an adult.
At twelve, I thought the equivalent of, “Like hell!”
But you know what?
She was right. I feel differently about hosting parties now as compared to when I was twelve.
And, get this, I’ve hosted more than a few parties in the past few years. And they’ve been fun. Sure, several have been kid birthday parties. Which, duh, how can you go wrong with cake, presents and letting the kids run wild?
But seriously, I was such a tense, uptight little twelve year old. I’m so glad I outgrew that and realized how much fun it can be to have people come to my house to eat and visit and relax.