A. My daughter HATES Chuck E. Cheese! The character, not the restaurant. She could live at the restaurant, so long as she NEVER has to see Chuck E. He freaks her out.
B. It's not an inexpensive undertaking.
C. We'd probably have to invite the whole class because every party we've every gone to there has included the whole class, which, just, well....it's a lot...of people. And I have terrible anxiety about being around large groups of people and then having to talk to them. It's the anti-social in me.
Then I found this really cool blog from a photographer that I follow. She threw her daughter, who, coincidentally is the same age as mine, a Rock Star party. It was soooooo way cool. Soooooo way inspiring.
I showed it to my Girlie. I made three mistakes in doing so:
A. She totally loved it and wanted to do it right away.
B. We'd have to have it at our house.
C. We'd probably have to invite the whole class because every party we've ever been to has included the whole class, which, just, well....it's a lot...of people. And I have terrible anxiety about being around large groups of people and then having to talk to them. It's the uber anti-social in me.
I decided to just go through the motions of planning this thing, figuring that she'd forget about it and we'd wind up blindfolding her and heading to Chuck E. Cheese.
"Are you getting stuff for my Rock Star party today?"
"What about my Rock Star party?"
"Can I invite Nathan to my Rock Star party?"
"I want to play this song at my Rock Star party!"
"What should I wear to my Rock Star party?"
Clearly, she was not going to forget about this. I had not choice but to motor forward. I went to the ultimate party planning machine for help ~ My mother.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do:
A. We're going to move all the furniture out of the house."
What?
"B. Then we're going to rent small tables for people to sit at."
Wait. Why are we moving everything out then bringing in rented tables?
"C. Because we are."
Okay. I understand.
I started telling Prince Charming the plan.
"We're going to move all the furniture out of the house and bring..."
"What? Why are we doing that?"
"Because we are."
"This is a 6-year-old's birthday party. How many people are you thinking are going to be here?"
I have since learned that the proper answer to this question is not "Between 30 and 40, including your skating party friend, Frank.". No. The only thing that answer is good for is inciting a riot with the confines of your relationship that can only be pacified by a three-martini minimum. The proper answer to this question comes in three forms:
A. Zero
B. Just us and my parents.
And sometimes I throw in a D. which is 147, just to watch him freak out. It's kinda' fun.
"Well, we have that broken tile on the kitchen floor. I don't want a bunch of people in here walking all over it. It'll just get worse."
Okay. I can problem solve that one. We can:
A. Ignore it.
B. Well, then fuck this fucking game!
or, and I know this is going to sound radical, but just go with me for a second...
C. We could FIX IT!
I'm no longer sharing any of the party plans with Prince Charming. My mother and I are just doing it. Just....that's just it.
We've:
A. Designed and sent out invitations via my daughters awesome Rock Star Party website, and collected the resulting RSVPs.
B. Laid awake all night worrying about how all of this was going to come together in such a short time and what if no one wants to come or RSVPs and then doesn't show up and how are we going to lay this all out and what if it doesn't all get done in time?
That part was probably just me, though. I don't think my mom did that.
C. Built a floor plan for all the activities
D. Come up with, what I think is, a very parent and kid friendly menu that you wouldn't see at every party.
E. Built a rockin' play list, which now has to include the Throw Down version of "I Wanna' Dance With Somebody".
F. Begun shopping for and organizing all of the supplies, treats, goodies and party doings, which he then saw laid out on the table.
"What's all this?"
"It's the stuff my mom got for the party."
"Oh. It's cute. The kids will really like that."
And then he says,
"You know, we really have to figure out how many people are going to be here so we know how much pizza to get."
Hi. Have we met? I'm in charge here. Yeah. This party? Mine.
"We're not having pizza."
"Oh. We're not? I thought it was a pizza party."
"It was never a pizza party."
"It wasn't? What are we having then?"
My three possible responses to this were:
A. I've decided not to serve food.
B. A pasta salad, a spinach salad, a tray of hi-rollers from Cos...("Oh, is that why you were looking at those the other day?"), a variety of chips and dips, veggie cups, a bunch of popcorn/goldfish/pretzel snack bowls, mini-cupcakes, Cake Pops, and I need to get one those machines, by the way, a small candy bar, party punch and some soda.
Judging from his response of "You think kids are gonna' like that?" ,I think you can probably guess which answer I gave him.
It was the spinach salad and hi-rollers that did it.
Never, ever, EVER give him the details of a party until the last minute when it's all put together and everything looks great and they're wondering how you did all yourself and aren't they lucky to have someone as fabulous as you to plan their 6-year-old's Rock Star birthday parties.
It's going to be great. I've got three days to finish it all up. My daughter is totally excited. Her cousins are totally excited. Her friends are totally excited. Her grandparents are totally excited. And when party time comes, I'm sure that Prince Charming will be totally excited, too.
Especially since everyone is dressing up as Rock Stars, and I'm making him come as Jon Bon Jovi.
Hello, Hot Rock Star? It's me, Madonna Wannabe.
It's gonna' be either:
A. AWESOME!
B. ROCKIN'!
C. The Best Party She's Ever Had
Any, and all of which, will be fine with me.
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