Daughter’s surprise party

“Can I give a surprise birthday party Friday?” my daughter asked recently. I thought about it, a surprise party, the week after returning from her brother’s out of town wedding when I would be back to work and two other sons were recuperating from having their wisdom teeth pulled. I took a deep breath and agreed, “Yes, but you have to clean the house before the party.”
I figured that Friday afternoon I would be dashing out to pick up a few party items while she scrambled to shove shoes, papers and dirty dishes out of sight.
Tuesday, I drove into a clean garage. I parked the mini-van without having the avoid the lawn mower and go-cart.
The brown, oversized trash bin had been emptied that morning and was already half-filled. I didn’t bother to check out what former “must keeps” had been thrown away.
I was ready to compliment my husband or sons on their job, when my daughter said, “Hey, Mom, how do you like the way the garage looks?”
“Fantastic! It was so clean I could park and get out with no problem.”
Wednesday I cam home to a house void of clutter including the male types lounging on couches moaning about their sore mouths. Little sister had enlisted their help to vacuum, clean and re-arrange. The skirted table had moved and video storage cabinet was not in sight.
When I walked into my bedroom, I found other odds and ends that had disappeared. They were neatly deposited on my bed. If my daughter kept this up, I would have to clean my room.
Since my college-bound sons were better, I urged them to “clean up your clutter before you leave and have it done before your sister’s party on Friday. You know, sweep behind the doors to your rooms, dust the bookshelves and pack your belongings.”
Then I went into the kitchen. It looked bigger. Clutter leftover from the pre-wedding visit, gift opening and wedding preparations had disappeared. “Looking good,” I said, “but the stove is part of the kitchen.”
I glanced out the window. Our family-sized tent lay on the lawn waiting for dad’s return. As soon as my husband came home, she pulled him outside to help assemble all the pieces.
Thursday afternoon, the guys had begun to pack and the dust bunnies had disappeared. This from offspring who refused to accept dusting as a necessary evil. We spent the evening shopping for party stuff.
Friday morning, she called me at work, “Mom, what about making meatballs for the party?”
That’s OK with me. There is meat in the freezer and a recipe in the cookbook. Do you have the cake started yet?”
“It’s in the oven.”
“Sounds like you are on top of things.”
As she had been all week. That was one party where she did more than wrap a gift, ask me to buy some party foods and clear a path through the house.
The guest of honor and hostess’ mother were both surprised.
I like that kind of surprise.