Midsummer’s (gri)Eve


Photo credit: People magazine

This is an almost fabulous ensemble for a Midsummer’s Eve fete, which reminds me I say I’m going to host one every year. If you’re ready to send out invites, this year’s summer solstice falls on Friday, June 21st. It’s a perfect holiday to hang twinkly lights and wear all white without feeling cheap.

Sadly this party never makes my calendar because between May 25th and June 25th I’m solely focused on the metric shit-ton of planning necessary to execute the royal birthday celebration for the tiny princess. This always occurs on the Saturday closest to June 25th. Countless dollars and hours are spent organizing, negotiating and managing a once-in-a-lifetime party that happens every year, for a human who couldn’t exist alone for more than 10 hours.

The other obstacle that thwarts my midsummer’s eve party is Father’s Day, which typically falls right between my birthday, and the birthday of the future heir to nothing. This is a significant holiday, but requires less planning. Maybe a half-metric turd-ton?  But we still go to great lengths to celebrate, because Anna’s dad is really awesome even though he didn’t want to have sex with me except for that one time.

Also, thinking of planning a third party, with the Memorial Day party just one day away, made the bile back up in my throat.  So I stopped to ask myself: what would happen if I didn’t make my life tv-ready for the month of June?  What if I wasn’t the busiest person in the county that month?

I would be sad that heroin ate my dad’s liver and he’s not here anymore.

Turns out June is a 30-day emotional volcano I pour freezing water over when no one’s looking. My guts feel like smoldering black rock by July 1st, and I robotically turn my attention to another party-planning extravaganza, lunging at my guests with pork products to honor the half-truths in our nation’s history books for the 4th of July.  Hooray!

Obviously I’ve neatly avoided dealing with my dads’ death.

I’ve fantasized about having that spectacular Steel Magnolias funeral-scene-breakdown, but I think only Sally Field and a crew of 78 people can pull that off.

I just plan more parties, serve too much food, and stand at the sink washing my hands over and over.  It’s my way of politely wringing my hands without anyone noticing I’m collapsing under my smile. Tangerine soap is my favorite. It reminds me to forget the smell of hospital halls and despair.

Being human molten lava isn’t cute. Neither is overcommitting myself every June to outrun the heartbreak monster.

I finally chose to experience my deepest loss rather than face another shitshow June, and I had the full Sally Field experience. With more snot, and no make-up person.

I hated it, but it didn’t kill me.

Now that I don’t have to fill every minute of June fussing over unnecessary details, Anna’s party is going to be the best one yet. We’re getting a grocery store birthday cake and ice cream, and hanging out at the pool with seven little girls. No Eloise gift boxes shipped from The Plaza in New York, no WEDDING cakes with edible pearls (not kidding). Just no.  I’m going to have fun celebrating a milestone with my girl – the last year her age will be a single digit.

I’m also going to host that Midsummers eve’s party – by sprinkling my dad’s ashes under the stars and telling him, “you kicked ASS while you were here. I miss you every day.  And it’s totally okay.”


  1. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh hysterically?

  2. “The future heir to nothing”, and “lunging at my guests with pork products to honor the half-truths in our nation’s history books for the 4th of July” – masterful.

    I adore your blog.

  3. Okay dude, when you need to puke all of your molten everything, I’ll be here. Much love, and I mean it.

  4. It was funny and clever and sort of sad. I’m glad you’re relaxing for your daughter’s birthday and not being one of those people I fucking hate who goes way overboard for a kid’s party, thus making the other parents feel like total dicks for not being more creative (or creative at all for some of us) for our own kids’ parties! Lol.

    • Haha Don! Regrettably I’ve been one of those dicks – sorry. But this is year is going to be totally 1978 style (without the pot) – so laid back I might hurt myself.

  5. Reblogged this on seamanbahari and commented:
    hemb. . .

  6. I loved this. Have nothing smart to say…but loved it.

  7. Caroline Mottinger says:

    Brought tears to my eyes, Molly…..you are so good at expressing yourself!

  8. Of all the vices to turn to in your time of despair, you chose party planning?!

    Anna’s birthday party this year will be the best one yet — simple, joyous, full of love, and being captained by an awesome mom with a clear head and a full heart. You can’t lose with that combination.

    • I know, right? Totally absurd. I’m a list freak – what can I say? But I think this year is going to be MUCH better. Thanks for reading and for your lovely comments.

  9. A good cry is absolutely necessary sometimes. I’m glad you got it out,though I’m sorry for the circumstances. BIG HUGS. xoxoxo

  10. Wow – talk about bittersweet…

  11. funny, sad, sarcastic, entertaining, cathartic. i’m glad you had your cry, that molten lava really just keeps on coming. i hope your daughter has a great party. sounds like a good one.

  12. ErinGoBrawl says:

    You are awesome. Just remarkable. And this piece was amazing.

    If you need a 78 person crew at any time, I am sure that you have that and more around these parts.

  13. AMAZING is right. When my dad passes, sober old coot that he is, I am going to go fucking haywire for months. Then I will repeat that every year. It’s my duty, my birthright and my destiny. I fucking love you.

    • It could happen, and it is indeed your birthright. Believe that shit, yo. And I will be here in the interwebs to squeeze you with words. I fucking love you back so hard it’s dumb. Congratulations on the Best Moment Award! Is it the 178th one you’ve received?

  14. I haven’t followed your blog for long, but I love reading it. I hope those that follow my blog will give yours a visit. I included you in my Best Moment Award, but if you don’t accept awards, that’s okay. If you do, the info is on my page. Keep up the super work, I enjoy your posts so much.

    • Holy crap thanks so much! I’m honored. I’m also happy to see two of my best girls on there: outlaw mama and memoir of a mom who ticks – hooray! Thanks for reading and congratulations on your award!

  15. Mariette says:

    Funny, sad, eloquent & sarcastic. You definitely hit all the right notes 🙂 I’m sorry to hear about your father, but it’s good that you’re taking the time. It’s tough to let it through, but sometimes it can’t be stopped. You’ll be in my thoughts as well!

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