An Awkward Hostess*

Last night I had the wee-bean all snug in her bassinet, the kitchen was clean and the Hubster was shooting something or other on the xbox with our little neighbour friend / brother / son.

It was the perfect time to write. So, I did.

I wrote out a big blog post. I edited it, and clicked publish.

Then the WordPress gods decided to rally against me and deleted the entire thing without a trace. No draft saved, no “back button” magic. It was just… gone.

*sigh*

I was much too tired to try and rewrite it last night, so, here I am.

My post was a confession of sorts, all about an irrational fear I’ve harbored for a long time. A fear I’m quite embarrassed to admit. A fear I’ve been working to conquer this summer.

Are you ready for this? I have long been afraid of having people over to my house.

Let me explain: I am not a hoarder, nor do I have any anti-social tendencies. I’m proud of my house and I love love seeing people.

But I am convinced that I am the most awkward hostess… ever. I am terrified that I’ll invite people over and they’ll have a terrible time and it will affect our friendship.

Seriously.

I don’t really know where it came from, but somewhere along the way I began putting a lot of pressure on myself when it came to having people over. I felt like my home needed to be pristine, and that there needed to be witty, awesome conversation all night long.

…and that anything less would be a complete disaster.

And this fear only pops up when people would come here–going out would be no problem.

Ridiculous, right?

So, I decided that enough was enough. I began pushing myself to invite people over on a regular basis, and each time I did it got a little easier. I started to realize that people won’t stop being my friend if there is a smudge on my window or if my floors haven’t been washed in the last 24 hours. That a pause in conversation is sometimes okay. That even if a dish doesn’t turn out quite the way you want it to, it can actually be a bit funny.

That life is not perfect, and I put too much pressure on myself.

This summer has been my summer for hosting. We’ve had people over for visits and dinner, and we’ve hosted several large BBQ parties that I think have been successful. This week alone I had two belated birthday parties that I had a blast at. (It was my champagne birthday. I felt that celebrating for three weeks was justified. ha) Last Monday I had eleven of my girlfriends over, and considering that many of them didn’t know each other when they arrived, I think everyone enjoyed themselves. Everyone brought a fabulous appetizer, salad or dessert, and the Hubster manned the BBQ so we could sit and chat.

Yesterday I invited my family down, and enjoyed a fun day with my parents and three brothers. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little bit of anxiety before each event, but in both cases it was completely unfounded.

And I am discovering that I actually really like having people over–I love when my house is loud and full of people. Each time it’s getting a little easier, and the stress I feel before people come is lightening each time.

So, there you have it. I feel a bit silly for admitting it, but I figure that I can’t be the only person in the world that feels this way.

Wanna come over? :)