Playing and planning

I need to start packing. In less than two days I'm flying home to San Antonio with my three children. I haven't begun to sort out clothes, toiletries, and activities for the flight. Of course, we aren't leaving until an hour after the kids' bedtime, so toys and games may be completely superfluous. I haven't packed up gifts and stuff for my nieces and nephews and little cousins. I haven't really given a thought to what I'll really need for my big visit back home. I just want to be there already.

I have been distracting myself instead with plans for my son's eighth birthday party. More accurately, I have been going completely insane planning a labor-intensive, ridiculously extravagant party that I will never live up to again. The thought occurred to me one day, and then grew like an invasive foreign weed in my head: Brain kudzu.

My son, like everyone between the ages of four and whatever, loves Harry Potter. He's read the first three books, seen the first three movies, and is halfway through with the fourth book. His wicked mommy won't let him watch the movies until he's completed the books.

He somewhat fancies himself a little Harry Potter. He has the messy black hair, the green eyes, and he lives with hopelessly mugglish people. And his best friend is the most brilliant girl in his class. She's on the seventh book already.

My son's brain is actively working out the challenging bits of Happy Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It's not a book written for a seven year old boy, but he's not daunted. "Mom?" he'll ask me out of the blue, "Why is Draco so mean?" Later, when I'm urging him to get dressed he'll ask me, "Mom? How do they make broomsticks?" And when he's supposed to be brushing his teeth, "How did Harry's name get into the goblet?"

My husband has been reading our daughter the first two books. When my children are not needling and nudging each other, the two of them can be found playing an elaborate game of Harry Potter. My son is Harry, and naturally, his little sister is a mountain troll or a goblin. Once in a while, he'll let her be Hermione.

With Pottermania exploding all around us, even the baby has learned to say "Hermione", it's not surprising that Harry was the first thing to pop into my head when I was thinking about birthday party themes. The first inkling of a thought has multiplied, expanded, and exponentially grown into an elaborate scheme: the Hogwart's party.

It started with an invitation, printed on parchment colored paper with the Hogwarts emblem as the letter head, and the invitation written in green ink. I printed up stickers with a picture of an owl and "delivered by owl" typed on them to seal the envelopes. Then I really got out of hand.

I'm planning to turn a park field house into "Harryland" with a small Diagon Alley, complete with Madame Malkin's Shop where the kids will find men's extra-large black t-shirts cut up the front to serve as robes, an "Ollivanders" wand decorating station, and a "Gringott's Bank" station where each kid will receive a bag of Chanukah gelt. Next will be the "sorting hat". I've printed out stickers with the emblems of the four houses on them: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. The kids will stick their hands in the hat and pick out their house.

I have also recruited a couple of my Skokie sistahs to serve as wizardry "professors" to teach potions (I'm looking for a good recipe for fruit juices and candies) and "divination" (tea leaves, palm readings, and some crazy crystal ball action with a Mickey Mouse snow globe!). I'm going to try to talk my mother-in-law, the garden book author, into teaching "herbology". I'm hoping she'll help me find some exotic looking plants, like Venus flytraps, to rename something sinister, invent a magical property for, and help the kids re-pot.

The piece de resistance is the Quidditch game I'm planning with scooter boards instead of broomsticks, and soft foam balls for bludgers, and two big kids bouncing a yellow tennis ball back and forth for the snitch. Oh, yes, and I've recruited three of my four "prefects", older kids who will be leading the groups from station to station.

No, it's not a seemly way for a grown woman to behave, but this is my son's first birthday party in Chicago. He's been here a full year, enough time to make great friends, and more than enough time to make a few enemies. He really relates to the young wizard, a fellow fish out of water in a new environment. Figuring your allegiance to the Cubs or the White Sox can be as daunting to an eight year old, as deciding between Gryffindor and Slytherin was for Harry. Finding the "right sort" of kids to hang out with, and trying not to make a fool as the new student are themes my son identifies with. I want this party to be special for him.

So I'm scheming and conniving: a snitch-decorated cake, kosher chocolate frogs, and a pinata for the "defense against the dark arts" class. I didn't think of all of these ideas myself. Most of the really good ones came from the internet, but I'm doing what I can with a limited budget, and an even more limited imagination, to give my son a birthday he and his friends will remember.

I hope it will be the right start to a new school year for my sweet little guy.

In the meantime, we're trying to make the best of the remaining few weeks of the summer. Camp ended on Friday with an adorable talent show. The kids performed silly dances with big smiles on their faces. My son even did an amazing breakdance! I'm still kicking myself for not getting it on video. My daughter bounced, hopped, and walked like a little Egyptian. And baby sister watched it all with awe.

Camps only been out for a few days now, but I'm already getting desperate for entertainment for the kids. Thank goodness we'll be in San Antonio in a few days.

On Monday I dragged the poor dears around town running errands. Mostly we shopped for the birthday party. I'm still looking for plastic cauldrons...anybody? We were saved by a call from my son's best friend. "Mrs. Price? Can your son come over for a playdate?" Now? You mean right now? We'll be right over!

And it's not just me. I offered to reciprocate today. The answer was , "Yes, please!" But first, I made my kiddos help me out in the kitchen, drying and putting away dishes and silverware. They were surprisingly enthusiastic. Even the baby didn't want to be left out. Each of them had a dish towel, and I passed them one plastic plate or cup, or one teaspoon at a time. They carefully dried it and gingerly put it away. The whole time I kicked myself. Why didn't I think of this sooner? Of course, the excitement for a new chore fades rapidly. Next time they'll pout and moan their way through this onerous task! "Mom!" I can hear them saying, "it's too hard!"

After the dishes were all put away, we picked up my son's friend and got a pizza. After lunch, I took them to the Kohl's children's museum. It was packed, and all I could do to keep track of all four kids. They ran from exhibit to exhibit, exploring trains,

water,

music,

and theatre.

My drama queen put on a real show.

After the museum, I took the kids down the road to the most beautiful park I've seen in Illinois. It had a water play area, a playground, a garden, a giant sand play area, and a shrubbery maze. The kids splashed around in the 100 degree temperature, and even I walked past the cool mist a couple of times.

The kids had a great day, and frankly, so did I. I didn't mind so much running around trying to keep tabs on all four. They played beautifully together and had a silly, happy, insanely fun day.

They even made me giggle.

When it was time to take our little friend home, she hinted more than once, "I wish we could play longer." I know how she felt. If I could, I'd spend my days planning my son's birthday party, playing in sprinklers, dreaming about being Harry (or Professor McGonagall, in my case), and maybe blogging. But I have a curriculum to devise, classes to plan, and bags to pack.

I just wish I could play longer.