So, tonight I was going to make Missy’s Creamy Chicken Bake. Then I realized that we were missing a couple of ingredients. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, except that I had agreed to attend a Princess House party…which I’d completely forgotten until pretty late in the day.

I’d have sworn we had garlic and onion powder, but we didn’t. I’d have had Bill go get the stuff, and I could’ve put it all together and set it to be done by the time the party was over, but Bill came home with just enough time for me to shower and get ready for the party.

Well, theoretically, that’s what I had time to do with that hour. What I did instead was bitch and moan about how I don’t waaaaannnnnnna go to this silly party, but I have to go because it’s Sarah, and she’s done so much for me, and she never asks for anything in return, except my attendance at these kinds of things, and she thinks I’m really funny, and I really like her, but I still don’t waaaaannnnnnnna go. All of this effectively killed my hour of “get ready” time. (Yes, kids, this particular quirk of mine amazes even me.)

So, I head down to Sarah’s house, expecting good times and good eats. ‘Cause that Sarah doesn’t do anything by halves, I’ll tell you. And Pam was co-hosting this shindig, and she’s, like, the head Stepford, and so I knew this was about to be one rollicking good time and that my attempt at Creamy Chicken Bake could wait another night anyway.

I get there, and I see all the familiar faces I know and am coming to love…or at least like a whole lot. Those faces see me and light up a little, and there are many sincere inquiries about my health and the baby and whether or not I miss my oldest little rats. I make similar inquiries about birthday parties and vacations and all the other things I know now about the people with whom I share a neighborhood.

We settle in for what we have come to expect from these parties — a very brief presentation which will be followed by food and chatter and storytelling and jokes and maybe even a few cocktails because we’re grown ups and we can. Oh, poor naive souls that we were.

What we got was a Princess House consultant who took her job Very Seriously and expected us to take her job Very Seriously. Apparently, no one had bothered to mention that a good many people in this neighborhood don’t even take their own jobs Very Seriously and that there are a couple of us who go out of our way to make sure nothing in life ever gets taken too seriously. Poor naive soul that she was.

So, she has an agenda for this party and a schedule that I think would have made Himmler cry a tiny tear of pride. Uh oh. We were expected to sit and behave like good children, and well…this is Stepford, but it’s also the South. Sometimes, you just can’t escape a redneck influence. Plus, she wouldn’t let us get food or even drinks. (Fatal error in one of our parties — if you don’t let us get a least a couple of glasses of wine in us, we’re not going to do anything too dumb with money. Or so I’ve heard.)

Anyway, she introduces us to the concept of Barnyard Bingo. This was actually pretty fun, except that Rob won way too fast. And just when I had everyone ooh’ing and aah’ing over my wicked good chicken impression. Dammit. But I digress.

Then we’re on to the presentation which didn’t involve much presentation of Princess House merchandise, but boy, I can tell you a thing or two about how to be a hostess or a consultant. Okay, I really don’t remember much about that, but I know we heard a lot about it — definitely more about that than about the actual products.

At the end of the presentation, she passes around some Princess House stuff. My “I’m being a good girl and pretending you can take me out in public” tank is now on E. So, when I get handed a very nice (if overpriced) ladle, I exclaim, “Woo! This would sure dress up my Hamburger Helper!” which causes Heather (I love her) to say, “And my Spaghettios.” (I love Heather so much, in fact, that I’m going to have a Mary Kay party because she sells that. And because…well…because no one else is having one, and that’s just silly since we have every other party ever invented.)

And like that, Das Berater has lost all control of this party, much to her chagrin. She tried to rein us back in, but well, we’re not a rein-able lot. To give her credit, she tried her damnedest. The problem wasn’t that we weren’t interested in buying stuff (although that didn’t help); it was the fact that our consultant wasn’t getting our jokes, nor was she trying to get our jokes or even just have a good time.

Now, I get that this is how she makes her living in this old, cold world we live in, and I have to admit I have a lot of respect for people who have the chutzpah to take a leap into such a crazy business as a sales consultant for luxury goods based on nothing more than their faith in their own dream. However, my admiration and respect don’t necessarily lead to me feeling a deep need for a $60 pitcher, hand-blown and -cut or not. You take your chances when you head into a venture like this; I’ve got kids to feed, too.

Also, she made some comments to Sarah that sort of pissed me off. She asked Sarah if the sales were low because of all the “chaos.” Sarah informed her that our Pampered Chef party had been twice as boisterous, and there didn’t seem to be a sales issue there. (As should have been clearly demonstrated by the table full of PC stuff waiting for delivery. Hee.)

So then she tells Sarah and Pam that she’s never had a party that had no sales at all and informs them that this is her livelihood and she only has 45 minutes to accomplish what the rest of us have eight hours to do and God knows what all. Sarah was smart enough to wait until the consultant had left to tell me about any of this. She figured (rightfully so) that I might have had a thing or two to tell the consultant about her lack of sales, and phrases like “overpriced crap” and “humorless windbag” and “be damn glad you only have to work 45 minutes a day” might have come into it.

Anyway, after the party was officially over, we all sat around and had the rollicking good time we’d come for in the first place. I called Bill and told him it was safe to come down. He happily obliged since Tricia was feeling the need for some food and he was feeling the need for some time spent with grown ups who aren’t co-workers or people named Stephanie.

I got some of the neighborhood scuttlebutt (I love that word), and at some point, Bill and Chris decided that Abigail’s old swing was perfect for Tricia. (Abigail is Sarah’s littlest rat, and holy Hannah, is that kid cute! When I finally get around to posting the photos from our Pampered Chef party, y’all will see what I’m saying.)

But none of that was the best part — the best part was finding out that no one was looking at me and my life and judging it harshly. I’m not the only person in our neighborhood who thinks A Man, A Can, A Plan isn’t a half-bad cookbook. Or that while Paula and Ina can cook their asses off, Sandra Lee is probably more realistic to how most of us actually cook every day — showing off for company didn’t count. I found out that I’m not the only one who sometimes wonders if I’m really good enough as a mom or a wife. I found out that we’re not the only ones who have done some pretty dumb stuff with money.

Mostly, I found out that, contrary to all my firmly held beliefs, I’m not alone in looking at appearances and coming to the conclusion that I’m just not as “with it” or “together” as the people around me. (Someone actually said they admired me because I manage to work and raise three kids and have pets and keep a clean house and manage to write a little something every day. I know — crazy, innit?!)

So, I came home from the Princess House party being glad I went but not because I had face-to-face time with actual, live grownups and didn’t say anything stupid (although I’m proud of that — I think three parties in a row makes it a streak), but because I realized that life isn’t a competition. No one’s keeping score here, except me.

All in all, it was a really good night, although I admit a big helping of Creamy Chicken Bake would go down pretty good right about now, I bet.