Thoughts While Attending a 5 Year Old's Birthday Party

It was my turn.

I missed the laser tag party. My husband was stuck with that particular purgatory.

I "lost" the invitation to the Strawberry Shortcake Bake With Your Child party.

But we like this neighborhood friend.

We should go.

This is a Princessy (adjective?) sort of party. With pink tutus. A Princess ballerina party. Not so bad, right?

There's going to be a dance instructor.

Maybe I could just chuck a well wrapped present at the neighbor's door and run away?

I spent an hour and a half helping my daughter find the perfect outfit, allowing her to choose brightly striped leggings that clashed with everything, a weird headband, teal owl socks, and black sparkly shoes to go with her Hello Kitty tutu shirt.

As I look around the Maple Room of the Community Center, you can tell which kids were dressed by their parents.

 Mine sure wasn't.

She wanted curls. I spent forty minutes on a salon style creation for my daughter. She looks fabulous, especially for a kid whose specialty is her brother's old soccer jerseys and a pirate sword.

The Disney music has begun. Courage, my heart. Courage.

I should write Disney a letter. I was promised, by their aggressive marketing, that if I birthed a girl child, I would play tea party and princess with her for four years, (ages 2-6). My world would be ruffles and glitter and costume jewelry.

Disney lied to me.

Not that I mind much. She'll make a great Evil Queen Overlord.

How much is the down payment on a Dark Tower, I wonder?

There's no pinata here. No Pin the Tail on the Donkey. When I was a kid, going to birthday parties meant playing Musical Chairs and then being sent to the backyard while adults smoked on the patio.

Oh, sweet Jesus. The Frozen music has started.

I brought a book. The irony is that it is a book about emotions and learning to - *ahem* - let it go.

My overlarge house dress and sweater have already been complimented. Twice. This means I either a.) Look fabulous or b.) Look like one of those deranged homeless people that you don't want to upset.

Hey, I brushed my teeth and I'm wearing clean, matching socks. I'm winning, today.

Do kids listen to lyrics? Do they understand that Princess Anna needs serious therapy?

All these people know each other. I should make friends.

But what I really want is a nap.

Why do I even allow my kids to have friends? Hermits never get invited to parties.

The dance teacher has called the kids to the center of the floor. She is handing out bright pink tutus. "You can never have too many tutus!"

I'd like to see her cite sources in defense.

My daughter is suddenly shy. She's never shy.

"Go, have fun!"
"No."
"Okay. Stay here and watch me read this book on emotional health."
"No."
"Yeah. It's not all that great."
"No."

I get a water bottle from the table. I didn't sneak a flask into this party. Why didn't I sneak a flask? My purse is enormous. I could have slipped a fifth of vodka in here and no one the wiser.

Huh. Water bottles. Disguising vodka. That's a million dollar idea.

Nope. Gotta drive home.

Also, my kid has stolen my water bottle.

"Go. Have fun."
"No."
"Why are you crying?"
"They have fairy wings!"
"Do you want fairy wings?"
"Yes!"
"Then go get some!"
"YOU HAVE TO COME WITH ME!"

I take my kid to the pile of fairy wings. "Excuse me, we're nervous, but we'd like fairy wings, please."
The dance instructor smiles beautifully. "Of course!"
I select a set that match her green tutu.
"No, Mommy. RED."
"Nothing you are wearing remotely goes - you know what? Red, it is." I help her to put on the wings. Instantly, she brightens.

Then she gives the look.
The look that says, 'Why are you standing here? Go away! You're embarrassing me!'

I go back to my seat.

Favorite overheard conversation topic so far: Mail Order Printer Toner Cartridges.

How long, Oh Lord? How long?

Why does everyone think 'I See the Light' is the best number from 'Tangled'? It's obviously 'Mother Knows Best'.

I used to be smart. I wonder what important piece of information I lost when I was implanting memories of 'Tangled'.

Kid is smiling. Fairy wings cure everything. Relief.

"When You Wish Upon A Star" - now that's really good music. That's the stuff.

The teacher just ordered all the kids, "Run back to your green dots! Find your green dots on the floor!" and they all complied. They're all standing on the green dots.

I need to get me some of those green dots.

Pachelbel's Canon in D? REALLY?

I will not bash my head into the cement block wall. I will not.

"Yeah..." one parent chuckles to another, "he's all about Duke..."

To be clear, sir, your son is four. He seems all about jumping on one foot.

My emotional health book is not helping me achieve enlightenment. Grief, Pain, all that I can handle. It has no guiding principles on how to transcend birthday parties. I dare Buddha to achieve mindfulness during balloon time.

Balloon time! Utter, delightful chaos. I think it could be more interesting with the introduction of spikes or something, but sharp objects don't mix well with preschoolers.

Ah, the Sleeping Beauty waltz. Poor Tchaikovsky. I hope he isn't able to hear the midi files of his music from the beyond.

CAKE TIME. Oh, sweet Jesus, cake time. I'll bet the party ends after this. No one opens presents at parties anymore. It's gauche, apparently.

Maybe some parent just decided it would be socially unacceptable in the interest of time and sanity. I can get behind that idea.

One kid has ditched cake and is trying to amass a balloon fortune. You go, girl. Buy low, sell high.

An hour and forty minutes.

I manage my escape carrying a craft and a balloon and a gift bag and a pinwheel while my Pirate Princess clomps beside me in her "tippy-tap" shoes gripping a second balloon with a fabulous grin.

Fine. It was worth it.

It was worth it for the reconnaissance. After all, I'm going to be expected to host one of these things for her birthday next month. A party for a 6 year old. My baby is turning six?


I will definitely be sneaking a flask to that party.